In the wake of the post-lockdown world, films that dwell on solitude and the quiet refuge of screens land with a new resonance. Albert Birney’s “OBEX,” though set in 1987 (a nod made clear by vintage TV spots for Nightmare on Elm Street), hums with the anxieties of our very recent past. The film empathizes with our instinct to escape the physical world through digital immersion, yet it gently reminds us of the messy, inconvenient joys of real human connection. While the temptation to drift into self-chosen isolation is ever-present, Birney, bringing along a devoted team of collaborators who share his vision, constructs a film that nudges us out of our digital stupor, asking us to live sometimes awkwardly as if we are fully present.
The first act of OBEX is a meticulous portrait of Conor Marsh (played by Birney himself) and his day-to-day rhythms. He lives in Maryland with his dog, Sandy, played by Dorothy, whose fierce screen presence rivals fellow horror canine Indy from Good Boy. Conor’s only meaningful interaction with the outside world comes via his neighbor Mary (Callie Hernandez), a proto-DoorDash driver who delivers meals with quiet kindness yet is never invited inside. Much of the film luxuriates in watching Conor and Sandy carry out their ordinary routines, and Birney imbues Conor with a kind of contented charm. He has his dog, his three TVs, and a house carefully tailored to his tastes. Why wouldn’t he be satisfied?
Whether audiences will embrace what is essentially an extended tour of Conor’s domestic life will vary, but it’s clear that Birney and his team have painstakingly crafted the space. His house is an oasis of comfort so alluring it borders on oppressive the kind of environment that makes leaving feel like a dramatic act of betrayal. The production design reflects this, offering a lo-fi, analog charm that draws viewers into Conor’s self-fashioned sanctuary.
Cinematographer and co-writer Pete Ohs, known for his recent surreal excursions in The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick and Erupcja, helps the film achieve a subtly unsettling visual tone. While Conor’s life may be comfortable, the way we observe it is anything but ordinary. Often, Sandy and Conor are framed through everyday objects in Conor’s home a toaster here, a keyboard there creating a voyeuristic, almost spectral perspective. These grainy, drifting shots suggest a watchful curiosity, probing the paradox of someone who appears well-adjusted yet profoundly isolated. OBEX feels less like a film we stumble upon and more like an intimate, slightly uncanny document, where the creator’s presence is elusive yet keenly felt.
The film’s sound design is another quietly mesmerizing element. Kevin Hill and Matthew Giordano craft a sonic landscape where domestic and digital noises blur into one hypnotic texture. Josh Dibb’s score sharp, spectral, and at times piercing interweaves with everyday sounds: the hum of TVs, the hiss of a tea kettle, the rhythmic downpour of a faucet, the buzzing of cicadas outside. Conor’s attempt to separate his digital life from his physical existence is undercut by the way sound bleeds seamlessly across both realms.
The narrative pivots with the discovery of OBEX, a mysterious computer game promising full immersion and the chance to battle the demon king Ixaroth. Conor tries the game but quickly loses interest until Sandy is kidnapped within it. He must then navigate the virtual world to rescue her, confronting the lingering trauma of his family history and the ways it has shaped his retreat from human connection.
Inside OBEX, Birney’s attention to detail remains meticulous. The digital realm, while fantastical, feels as grounded as Conor’s real-life Maryland home. There, Conor meets Mary again Hernandez’s ability to oscillate between sincerity and absurdity is quietly delightful and a traveling companion with a television for a head (Frank Mosely). The film finds humor in the collision of mundane ’80s aesthetics with fantastical stakes: a scruffy tech bro in a white button-up wielding a Spirit-Halloween inspired sword against humanoid cicada soldiers. Birney mines the comedy from the absurdity while allowing the fantasy to retain its emotional weight.
OBEX is at its strongest when it leans into the structure of a fairy tale. Even as it tenderly reflects contemporary anxieties about loneliness and technology, it embraces the genre’s narrative clarity. Characters can voice the film’s central ideas explicitly Conor notes, “Someday we’ll all live in computers because life outside is too sad” without undermining the story, because fairy tales permit their moral lessons to be stated plainly.
Ultimately, the film acknowledges the inescapable entanglement of our lives with technology. Algorithms, addictive blue-light screens, and immersive digital worlds make it all too easy to ignore the tangible world around us. Yet Birney refrains from moralizing. Conor’s retreat into digital comfort is treated with understanding, not judgment. And while the film reflects our collective impulses toward withdrawal, it also issues an invitation: life is richer, stranger, and more beautiful than what any screen can contain.
OBEX Parents Guide
Note: OBEX is not rated by the Motion Picture Association (MPA). The following breakdown is designed to give parents a clear sense of the film’s content and themes.
Violence & Intensity:
While OBEX isn’t a traditional action-packed thriller, it does feature moments of fantasy peril and mild cartoonish violence. The protagonist faces off against humanoid “cicada soldiers” and the demon king Ixaroth within the game world, often in surreal, high-concept sequences. The violence is stylized rather than graphic, with an emphasis on absurdity and visual creativity over gore. Some sequences may feel tense or unsettling, particularly for younger viewers, as the film’s audio-visual design heightens anxiety and unease.
Language (Profanity, Slurs, Tone):
The film contains minimal explicit language. Dialogue is naturalistic and conversational, with occasional informal or mild expletives, but there are no frequent or harsh profanities. The tone remains whimsical, curious, and occasionally darkly humorous, rather than aggressive or offensive.
Sexual Content / Nudity:
OBEX is free from nudity or sexual content. Any references to relationships or attraction are subtle and handled in a light, innocuous manner. The film’s focus is on isolation, human connection, and fantasy adventure rather than romance or sexual themes.
Drugs, Alcohol & Smoking:
There is no depiction of drug use, smoking, or excessive alcohol consumption in the film. The characters’ vices are limited to their immersive engagement with technology and digital worlds.
Age Recommendations:
Given the film’s reflective, surreal tone, and its exploration of themes like isolation, loneliness, and existential anxiety, OBEX is best suited for older children and teenagers (roughly 13+) who can appreciate abstract ideas and mild suspense without being overwhelmed. Adults will likely get the most from its nuanced humor, visual inventiveness, and gentle meditation on human connection.
