My dear readers, while I am sure much ink has already been spilled on the wastefulness of contemporary culture, I still believe it is worth relating my fear that people often ignore the satisfaction one might find in taking something society has neglected and undertaking a proper restoration. Why, I still fondly recall the Arctic vacation I took in my youth where I came across a hulking humanoid encased in ice. Certainly, he had more than a little wear on him but after thawing the chap out and dusting him off a bit, he revealed himself to be an ingeniously devised and deeply vengeful manmade specimen. Now, the old version of this particular affront to nature was positively insistent about wreaking bloody vengeance on his creators and even had a few lewd suggestions for the fate of their spouses. But with a little guidance, patience and belief in the power of renovation, its murderous wrath has been directed at more sensible and productive targets.

Oz (Chase Williamson) is a man who can appreciate how rewarding it is to breathe new life into older items, a talented fellow working in the exciting and dynamic field of vintage video game repair. Unfortunately, his timing is a little off and a reduced interest in games that cannot be played on a portable telephone forces his employer to announce that he will be closing up shop. With but a few weeks of gainful employment remaining and fewer prospects on the horizon, Oz suddenly finds himself with ample time on his hands. Luckily, a distraction presents itself in the form of an unfamiliar cabinet game that appears quite suddenly at his workshop.

While other forms of “8-bit” entertainment provide but a few sensory stimuli, this unmarked console is far more immersive, allowing one to literally sink into the experience and even rattling one’s consciousness long after gameplay has concluded. Unfortunately, Oz does not appreciate these innovative attempts at engagement, especially as they seem to be having a detrimental effect on his growing romantic connection to Tess (Fabianne Therese), a young woman who finds his limited socializing and devotion to obsolete technology to be charming qualities. But leaving the game behind proves to be more difficult than just turning the thing off and the process of divorcing himself entirely involves hallucinatory horrors, physical mutation and alarmingly suggestive joystick manipulation. 

With Sequence Break, writer and director Graham Skipper takes sly advantage of the 1980s “retro” design that seems to be so popular nowadays. But this is not just some aesthetic contrivance, cynically employed to capture the attention of people with fond recollections of a bygone era. The film does much more than take the viewer back to a simpler time -- it presents a completely simplified version of technology. The film’s dual refrains, “look beyond the ones and zeroes” and “hit reset,” are the sort of sentiments that I can consider without having to get worked up about the gaps in my education. While more elitist movies are filled with intimidating vocational jargon meant to satisfy a precious few, Sequence Break is a film for the everyman who fancies a reassuringly digestible night out at the cinema.

I suspect even those with the most stubbornly rudimentary understanding of computing will find something to enjoy in this egalitarian production.

Sequence Break runs 80 minutes and does not possess a certified rating in the United States.