When we were young, we were asked to help save the Earth. If today’s leading scientific voices are any indication, we’ve done a shit job at it. As more and more arguments rage on, presenting more problems than solutions, it’s easy to believe that there is simply no small-step solution to solving the climate crisis. Many say we need radical, drastic change. But few have speculated what this could mean in our time and, dare one suggest, the potential repercussions. It’s not a popular question, nor one you would expect to be considered as we attempt to combat the problem period. And yet, this bold experiment bears remarkable fruit in writer-director Ann Marie Fleming’s long-awaited return to feature filmmaking, Can I Get a Witness?.
Set in a near-future in which humans have abandoned technology following ecological and anthropological collapse, the result of our efforts appear successful. The world is lush with gorgeous natural vistas and healthy farmlife. Folks are biking to work and playing music from gramophones, evoking a sense of nostalgia for ‘60s Americana. All seems well, if somewhat muted. Well, as it turns out, there’s a catch. In order to conserve resources, human beings are not allowed to live past the age of 50. Every individual is granted a custom “end of life” ceremony (EOL for short), in which they decide how they go.
Kiah (newcomer Keira Jang), a talented young artist, has been hired by the government to be an EOL documenter, as they only use physical illustrations – no photos or videos. Naturally, she has reservations about taking the job, but the emotional toll of watching individuals confront their own deaths, some less willing than others, is far greater than even she expects. She especially struggles aside her supervisor, Daniel (Joel Oulette), who is able to compartmentalize the needs of the world versus the sacrifices that must be made to preserve them. Her mother, Ellie (Sandra Oh), is similarly convinced, though she is haunted by the specter of her own mortality.
As Witness continues to build its high-concept world, it shines brightest when it does so through the lens of its characters and their relationships. One particularly heart-wrenching scene is Kiah’s first EOL, in which a spiritual couple recite final vows to each other, hand in hand, before inhaling a noxious gas that instantly kills them. As their bodies lie next to each other, Kiah immediately begins sobbing, for she has never seen a dead body before. In another resonant moment, Ellie comforts Kiah after his first day of work and shows her a quilt of various memories that is hers to keep after her passing, an event they silently acknowledge is coming sooner rather than later. Through sobering scenes such as these, Fleming directly confronts mortality through character while never exploiting your emotions.
Fleming is less successful, however, when she attempts to further world-build by over-explaining. In the film’s second act, Kiah and Daniel join a group therapy session of other young government workers who share their EOL experiences. They are shocked to learn the world once used something called “the internet” to share photos and videos with one another on “social media.” Another says their favorite movie is the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup, which they watched in a literal museum. The film’s main theme is literally the Ink Spots’ classic “I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire.” The references aren’t subtle and, in fact, come off as preachy, sabotaging the film’s air of mystery for what it thinks are clever winks.
Thankfully, the film’s talented ensemble keeps its main dramatic beats anchored as it swings into Act Three, especially Oh in what may be one of her most devastating turns in a career chock-full of them. Her vulnerability and motherly care imbue the screen with effortless warmth. The film also features exceptional flourishes of hand-drawn animation, calling back to Fleming’s previous work, that bring Kiah’s illustrations to life with exceptional polish and detail. Though the film is light on these moments, they are so excellently rendered that they take already gorgeous cinematography and make it shine even brighter.
More importantly, it feels like an extension of Fleming’s soft, guiding directorial hand, which ultimately makes the film feel more like a fable – a label presented in the film’s opening title cards – than a more direct piece of science fiction. By keeping its reflective observations on climate control more sentimental than scary, Fleming probes far deeper into the human condition than space aliens or warring factions. Its conclusions are quietly audacious, even if its incredulously abrupt ending rings hollow, making it one of the most fascinating and surprisingly life-affirming genre experiments in recent memory.
