The Platform 2 review – Netflix's dystopian horror sequel drops | Horror films

SYes, that applies to The Platform 2: it gets straight to the point. Without a detailed recap of its predecessor — a sci-fi horror parable that became a Netflix hit a few years ago — the characters discuss legal and economic philosophies within 10 minutes. By the 40 minute mark, one main character has already burned himself. For a film set in a series of austere rooms that form a vast vertical prison, the pacing is remarkable.

The workings of this prison were described in detail in the first film and are easy to understand this time around, even without much beginner-friendly exposition: prisoners who can choose to be sent to the structure called the “Pit” or in other ways for punishment are exchanged every month randomly assigned to a different level, usually shared with another prisoner. Once a day, a mobile platform travels from above (Level 0) down (somewhere in the 300s, one suspects), packed with a succulent selection of foods, lingering on each floor for a few minutes. (Each prisoner gets to choose a favorite item to include.) Inmates at the top can, if they wish, selfishly afford anything they want within the time limit. When they do, greed breeds more greed and inevitably leaves little to nothing for the poor, desperate souls below. Of course, everyone's fate can change every month; Someone from above could easily be pushed down and vice versa. These constant changes should inspire empathy; Most of the time they trigger panic and more practical egoism. In other words, eat up now because who knows where you'll be next month.

At the beginning of the sequel, the prisoners have organized themselves and established their own unofficial but strict rules: each prisoner is only allowed to eat the food they specifically requested and nothing else, unless someone else agrees to a trade. If everyone sticks to this, theoretically no one will go hungry. Easier said than done, of course; All it takes is one person eating someone else's pizza, bad roommate style, to throw everything out of whack. This is exactly the situation Zamiatin (Hovik Keuchkerian) encounters on his first day in the pit. Zamiatin is a grim-looking man who walks around shirtless and shaves every part of his body he can reach, presenting himself as a tough, vulgar guy. He demands swift justice. Meanwhile, his roommate Perempuan (Milena Smit) urges caution. Surprisingly, she reaches out to him and they become real friends, even if there are further arguments on different levels. Soon the pair find themselves caught in a conflict between a self-proclaimed “anointed one” who insists on fundamentalist enforcement of the rules (e.g. dictating that a prisoner's food must be thrown away rather than redistributed when he dies), and those, who do this advocate for more “freedom” (even though none of them are truly free).

Their place in this conflict changes so quickly that the film could give you whiplash. Even the film's central metaphor is constantly changing; Sometimes it targets, among other things, the questionable economics of capitalism, the questionable feasibility of true social or economic equality, the fervor of religious true believers, and the abhorrent violence that can be inherent in human nature. Returning director Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia walks through all of these worthwhile themes in a chaotic, bloody scrum that includes armed cannibalism, shockingly nonsensical backstories, and other forms of visual and narrative grotesquerie.

The grindhouse thought experiments can be compelling, and a sign that the film is more interested in speculative fiction than preaching on any single specific topic. But the film rages too quickly and sloppily to really engage with any of its characters; Perempuan takes on the lead role, and although Smit does well in the role, the ground beneath her keeps shifting. Finally, the film jumps to something newer: an eerie, green scene that brings both science fiction and slowly building tension back into play. (Even the ever-present blood splatters become more poetic.) Then things move forward, into a head-scratching final section that doesn't gain clarity until the end credits. Gaztelu-Urrutia seems to take its own concept from Level 0 and see it as a hectic all-you-can-eat buffet that can be ripped away at any moment.