Creep Box is a genuinely effective sci-fi horror thriller that takes a pensive if methodical look at immortality via technology.  Dr. Caul (Geoffrey Cantor) is the brilliant scientist behind a secret project in development that hopes to allow the living to speak to the dead. Or at least the brain of the dead just before death. Through a rather elaborate method, Caul and his team have developed a way to take a living snapshot of a person via latent brain synapses just after death to construct a sort of AI Chatbot. This would theoretically provide closure for the bereaved. It would also allow several commercial possibilities. Creep Box dives into the myriad dilemmas of virtual, spiritual, commercial, and existential from such a possibility. I liked the film quite a bit, though I have notes.

The story begins as Dr. Caul’s supervisor Mr. Nichols (Dan Cordle) oversees an investor pitch for investors. Caul operates a strange black box that glows a light cyan to indicate all systems go. They are attempting to mine the dead memories of a victim of a violent crime. If the pitch is successful, they can work with the Department of Justice to mine post-mortem recollections for use in a court of law. While Mr. Nichols is focused on funding, Caul’s passion lies elsewhere. The opening pitch doesn’t exactly convince investors and, as a result, Caul takes the hard drive of memories to a tech who solemnly erases the hard drive. These opening moments seem benign but are handled with a certain gravitas.

Caul has just lost his wife Sarah (Annemarie Lawless). Though focused, it is clear that his research has an agenda. Outside of work, Dr. Caul makes a visit to Sylvie (Katie Kuang) who has just lost her husband Adam (Adam David Thompson) to suicide. Sure, Caul has empathy for Sylvie’s loss but there is more at play here. After collecting the information that he needs from Sylvie, Caul uses Adam’s existence via memory to reach into the spirit realm. But really, is it the spirit realm? Writer-director Patrick Biesemanslays down a crossroads that explores mortality and immortality via technology, and a spiritual exploration of physical existence. Is technology alive because of humans or is it the other way around?

Cantor holds the film as Dr. Caul. His almost non-emotive portrayal of a brilliant brain in search of closure is the heart of the film. Everyone around him hopes to move on, yet he clings to the idea that there is reason to hang on for the final goodbye.

Creep Box has a lot going on. Biesemans has a lot that he wants to explore. What is surprising is how well he does it. Theories and ideas abound with just enough force to get the audience to think. The problem is that the film seems to know only one pace; measured. The concepts are a lot to take in. But my goodness, how many slow zooms over a lengthy monologue can an audience take?

In the end, Creep Box is a solid meditation on the gift of mortality through technology. With these dense theories, we cannot wait to see what Patrick Biesemans comes up with next.