Technoboss (João Nicolau, 2019) (Patreon)

Cinema and obsolescence: two great tastes that go great together. Although we are in the midst of "exceptional circumstances" that may hasten the decline of the movies as we have traditionally understood them, we have been bemoaning the death of the medium for as long as anyone has been paying attention to it, and it's worth stopping to take stock every once in awhile. All technologies evolve faster than the human sensorium can process those changes, virtually insuring that most of us will feel we have outlived our usefulness. So unless we find ourselves infirm in our golden years, we pretty much face two choices: try to keep up (with predictably mixed results), or take to the rocking chair and spout tedious anecdotes about "the old days."

Nicolau's quirky road movie / musical is a work of portraiture that depicts a man nearing the end of his professional life. However, he isn't finished living. Technoboss captures a transitional moment in the world of Luis Rovisco (Miguel Lobo Antunes), lead sales rep for a company called SegurVale: Integrated Systems of Access Control. It's a small firm specializing in keycard security, parking gates, motion sensors, and CCTV. There's a certain irony in Luis's chosen line of work, since most of the film observes him driving between jobs, enjoying the freedom of the open road. Motion soothes him, but erecting barriers is his forte.

Luis is irked by a younger company rival, Ricardo (Américo Silva), who is more competent with the newer systems, and he is fully aware that his old friend Peter Vale (Mick Greer, never seen on camera) is planning to put him out to pasture. But he finds a renewed sense of purpose in a complicated job at the Hotel Almadrava, where he has become enchanted by the rather distance desk clerk Lucinda (Luísa Cruz). Whether Luis is intentionally fudging the job to facilitate callbacks to the hotel, or he really can't remember the codes, is rather unclear.

But throughout the film, Luis expresses his feelings of frustration, joy, and wonder through strange little pop songs he sings in the car. He sings about the Portuguese countryside. He sings about studying the new technical manual with his grandson. And eventually, he sings about his love for Lucinda. Both within Luis's own life and the structure of the film, these songs slice through the tedium of a dull, workaday life, infusing it with something charming and heartfelt.

Technoboss is a doggedly minor film. Stylistically it owes quite a lot to Aki Kaurismäki, both in its flat, declarative formalism and its focus on the rich inner life of a perfectly ordinary man. Even at 90 minutes, the film feels baggy, and there's an unnerving feeling that, without meaning to or being aware of it, the film intimates that workplace harassment can actually pay off. Nevertheless, Antunes's crooked smile and choked warble infuse Technoboss with a sincerity that smooths out any archness in Nicolau's conceits. If you're prepared to swipe your card, Technoboss will let you in.