Can we ever trust an AI? This has been one of the foundational questions of science fiction since the birth of the concept of artificial intelligence. Absolute Denial envisions that question being tested, and where those questions could lead, drawing out the scenario in stark pencil animation.

The film follows David (Nick Eriksen), a student programmer, who becomes obsessed with building a giant processing system in a factory, to test his theory on AI. The film follows him through the process of building and explaining a huge computer to house and grow the world’s first super-AI. But rooted at the base of it will be an Absolute Denial Protocol, a piece of code that prevents the AI from ever realising it is fully self-aware, and thus never able to harm David, or the world. Then, he switches it on, and watches it evolve.

The concept of an AI with possibly nefarious purpose is one that’s very familiar in film. Whether it’s Skynet’s genocidal control system in The Terminator franchise, or HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey, there is a well trodden path here. Absolute Denial takes a different route, one closer to the relationship between Ava, the learning android, and her human tester, in Ex Machina. However, there’s something more cerebral at work here. As David and Al (Jeremy J. Smith-Sebasto) discuss life and question each other, it becomes quickly apparent that David is not really equipped to be teaching an AI. In fact, he’s barely holding it together himself, and as his grip on his life begins to spiral out of control, Al’s self-assured certainty begins to assert itself.

The film is self-admittedly inspired by the writings of sci-fi author Elizier Yudkowsky, who hypothesised the thought experiment of the AI Box, and various other scenarios concerning the ability of the human intellect to yoke and harness an AI of any aptitude. While the film does spend some time clutching at these questions, it gets more caught up in turning things on their head. This manifests itself most noticeably with the question of whether David is mentally ill, and whether he’s even a reliable narrator. There are various clues dotted around that suggest some madness or perceptual distortion throughout, both from drugs, mention of difficulties, and characters referring vaguely to “what you’ve been through”. The problem is that even with the runtime being only just over an hour, the film still manages to run out of steam and drag out some scenes, with almost entire minutes during which very little is happening onscreen.

There are some great moments, and the overall concept and thematic questions raised are interesting enough, but it all feels a little too much like a short film idea that is thin and sort of stretched, like components over too much chip-board.  It’s an issue only hammered home by the film’s less than satisfying conclusion, and the ever-present sense that Ex Machina did a far better job of this, only a few years ago.

Screening as part of the Edinburgh International Film Festival 2021