When a young black man, Keith Walker (Pascal Arquimedes), and an older white man, Billy McBride (Dan Berkey), join a virtual reality study, the two individuals who appear to have nothing in common will find that they have a unique connection. I.C.U. sees the two men struggling to understand one another and their values, but the film aims to teach a valuable lesson. Through the experiment the two men must face their own demons and come to terms with who and what the other man is.
I.C.U. quickly becomes a political drama that divides viewers. However, while the majority of the film aims to educate, the final blow at complete political division comes after the credits. As the film comes to a close, any questions that viewers may have had regarding the writers’ and Director Prentiss L. Thompson’s political stances are answered–and depending which side of the political divide you fall on, you’re either thrilled with the decisions made or you're horrified.
Regardless of your political views, however, the film itself is wonderfully done. Viewers see both the actual characters and their VR versions in a back-and-forth fashion throughout the course of I.C.U.. There is a nice juxtaposition between the real and the fake that exists throughout the film, and in the virtual reality world, as the two characters sit around a campfire and discuss their beliefs, Billy’s head (when he’s speaking) is often the only part of his body that viewers can see. Everything around him is dark, as if he’s being consumed by something–some force that won’t allow him to break free. The cinematography in these moments of I.C.U. are perfect, and it effectively expresses to viewers the tone of the film and the essence of the film as a whole.
The narrative is deep and harrowing, and as I.C.U.'s two main characters navigate the rocky terrain of racism, hatred, and the hardships of their lives, viewers are pulled to the center of these difficult situations, and they are forced to face them head on. There is no escaping the harsh realities of Keith and Billy’s lives, and what they discuss is a reflection of some of the things that are occurring in the real world–making I.C.U. more realistic, and ultimately more effective.
Both Berkey and Arquimedes are powerful actors who are capable of holding their own through the tense scenarios that arise throughout the film–and they do just that. They feed off of one another, and as their momentum builds and the intensity rises, the two actors peak at just the right time, just as the film begins to climax. I.C.U., while intense throughout, crashes down on viewers when the climax arrives–and it ultimately occurs in just one line. Berkey–as he stands up and begins to shout, viewers are deafened by his pernicious anger, the ability of the actor shines through the darkness once more.
Again, I.C.U. is politically divisive, most prominently at the very end of the film. The film provides viewers with a clear narrative, a unique twist, stellar acting, and beautiful cinematography–but the alienating nature of the film can be a turnoff. If you can overlook the political agenda that appears to exist throughout the film then you’re likely to find a wonderfully written story about hardship that mirrors the real world. I.C.U. will likely frustrate you as a result of the politics that exist throughout, but, again, the cinematic beauty that exists throughout the entirety of I.C.U. is enough to keep viewers engaged.
Directed by Prentiss L. Thompson.
Written by Danny Michael Bellini, Sekuleo Gathers, & Roger Greene Jr.
Starring Dan Berkey, Pascal Arquimedes, Tim McKierman, Sita Sarkar, Edward Manley, & Wendy Lazar.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐½/10
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