With Sequence Break, Graham Skipper delivers a loving ode to ‘80s body horror that is a fun, albeit flawed, mindfuck!
“Go ahead. You can play it. It’s just probably going to ruin your night. Maybe your life.”
It’s easy to have an obsession with the ‘80s. They were an incredibly influential time period, not just in terms of the horror that was made in the era, but also the technology and sensibilities of the decade. There’s a reason that so many filmmakers still pay homage to the influential time period, whether it’s thematically or outright setting their story in the decade. Writer/director Graham Skipper is clearly someone that the ‘80s have left a lasting impression on. His latest film, Sequence Break, is a glowing love letter to the era, both in terms of how it embraces Cronenbergian body horror and its love of retro video games and arcades.
Right from the film’s opening credits it effortlessly plays to its audience. Large close-ups of pixelated Space Invaders-esque graphics consume the screen while the retro sounds of arcade chipset music fill the soundtrack. There are so many glorious green, blue, and red filters placed over the film’s lighting at various moments as wires jut out everywhere and run amok like house millipedes. Sequence Break absolutely delivers on its desired aesthetic. Even the film’s premise where a mysterious arcade cabinet motherboard gets delivered out of nowhere feels deliciously ‘80s. It’s a very manufactured start to things, but it’s better than some random arcade game all of a sudden turning evil.
Curiously, Sequence Break very much feels like an extension and in many ways a spiritual sequel to Beyond the Gates, a horror film that stars Sequence Break’s Graham Skipper. Sequence Break moves the horror from a haunted VHS board game to a haunted arcade machine and it’s a perfect transition. While this movie may share some superficial similarities to Beyond the Gates, this is by far a much crazier, more unhinged, mature film.
Sequence Break centers around Oz (Chase Williamson), who the film portrays as being practically on the spectrum with a tunnel vision aimed specifically at arcade cabinets. They make sense to him when nothing else does and in a few swift strokes the film is able to beautifully demonstrate this quirk. When the news comes that the arcade game shop that Oz works at is finally going under, his universe begins to crash down around him. He’s told to take this opportunity to seize life and do something with his potential, but he doesn’t have any idea what that is. The film makes this point rather explicit, but Oz is forever an antique. He clings to the old fashioned ways of life while the rest of the world moves on.
The equally geeky Tess (Fabianne Therese) soon enters Oz’ orbit and there’s such infinite chemistry between the two of them that it’s not even funny. Oz and Tess are so good together and it’s just fun to watch the two riff off of each other, regardless of the topic. It’s also a delight to watch Oz slowly open up and begin to fall for Tess. In that sense, Sequence Break does an exceptional job at making its cast likable and empathetic. The deaths are all the more crushing accordingly and while this cast isn’t large, you really don’t want to see any of them become fodder. Oz and Tess’ chemistry also isn’t hurt by the fact that all of their nerdy video game banter is deeply authentic and clearly steeped in Skipper’s real love for this stuff. Besides, any horror film that makes reference to King’s Quest is going to get to get points in my book.
When it comes to the mysterious game that invades Oz’ world, the game itself looks very much like Tubeway, Elite, or even Star Fox. It’s that old sort of scaled down, wireframe shooter that grew in popularity during the ‘80s. All of the glimpses of Sequence Break’s actual gameplay feel highly appropriate. After a quick session with the arcade cabinet, Oz seems to get sick almost immediately after he’s exposed to the game. This results in Oz plagued with some particularly insane nightmares that really don’t hold back. These same bonkers effects begin to seep into Oz’ everyday life as well. This arcade game seems to have infected him and the film creatively explores Oz’ side effects and breaks from reality. It’s painful to watch Oz’ relationship with Tess deteriorate as this game takes him over and begins to change him.
Oz’ situation gets progressively more intense and it’s pretty awesome and alarming when the arcade cabinet begins to go all Videodrome on Oz. His fingers start to meld into the game unit’s buttons, but that’s just the start of the lines beginning to blur. It’s not long before Oz is basically making love to the cabinet and throwing up circuitry. It’s beautiful madness but it really plays into the Videodrome angle. After Oz gets wires mixing with his brain and he pushes a microchip into his forehead, I was half expecting him to say, before the arcade cabinet exploded. There are many great visualizations for this synthesis between man and machine like shots of goo mixing with circuit boards as everything is bathed in green light. Oz learns that the game’s nature—a sequence break—is to push code as far as possible to the point of breaking the game. It’s not hard to realize that this is exactly what’s happening to Oz. His very code is breaking apart.
Once Oz learns that the game is a “door to the infinite,” he’s given an impossible responsibility where he needs to beat this game to fix reality and unlock the possibilities behind it. Oz suddenly has a true purpose and cause and when the time comes, he rises to the task.
There’s a moment towards the end of the film where the pixels and graphics from the arcade game are flying out around Oz that ends up feeling pretty silly. For the most part the film’s instincts towards the special effects and horror are pretty spot on, but there are still moments that are less successful. Sequence Break is better off when it’s sticking to the body horror material rather than the mindfuckery.
On that note, there are all sorts of practical effects to love here, but some people may feel that the film sometimes gets a little too trippy for its own good. Oz’ existential breakdown taps into some real Lynchian sequences that are all impressive in their own ways. However, some less patient viewers may be hungry for more actual plot rather than being lost in Oz’ head for so long. These sequences do begin to feel indulgent, especially when they are so plentiful and the film clocks in at under 80 minutes. It’s hard to begrudge these scenes when they’re mostly well handled. Not all of it may necessarily make sense and it sort of feels like Oz “wins” at the end simply because the film is coming to an end. Most of the time these dots end up connecting, but there are other question marks that feel messy.
Sequence Break wants to be a trippy mindfuck movie and it absolutely is, but at times it feels like it’d be better if it weren’t. Much like how Oz loses control throughout the film, it feels like Sequence Break also veers off the road in its final act. There’s a lot to love in this movie, but if it simply tried to do a little less it would feel more complete in the end. In spite of the film playing into Graham Skipper’s weirder sensibilities, Sequence Break still marks an encouraging piece of horror from the burgeoning writer and director.
I’d say that it does for arcades what Psycho did for showers, but when’s the next time you’re going to be in an arcade?
3.5/5
