'Y2K' is a Buggy Love Letter to the 90s [Review]

​Whether you were born afterwards or too young to remember, believe it or not, people really were worried about the Y2K bug in 1999. There was even a terrible made for TV movie concerning the oncoming computer apocalypse that released that year called, you guessed it, Y2K. Those fears turned out to be just that. Nothing happened. What was already kind of a joke became a bigger joke. And now, more than twenty years after the fact, ex-SNL cast member turned director, Kyle Mooney, makes his feature debut with Y2K, a horror comedy that (smartly) looks back at the non-event with the pointed laughter it deserves. Yet, for as effectively as it tugs at the nostalgia of millennials, Mooney’s first outing feels about as half-baked as his white guy with dreads stoner character, Garrett.
 
It's New Year’s Eve with the dreaded Y2K fast approaching. Teen outcasts/best friends Eli (Jaeden Martell) and Danny (Julian Dennison) plan on spending the night alone. That is, until Eli learns his crush/computer whiz, Laura (Rachel Zegler), has just broken up with her boyfriend and will be at a party later that night. Danny convinces Eli it’s the perfect opportunity to kiss Laura, and they’re off. But once midnight strikes, every electronic goes haywire and embarks on a killing spree. Connected by a mastermind AI and hellbent on turning humans into slaves, Eli and friends set out to unplug the machines once and for all.
 
A blend of Superbad meets Maximum Overdrive, Y2K is, for better or worse, a film made specifically for us millennials. Unlike recent blasts from the pasts—cough, Time Cut, cough—Mooney (a 90s kid himself), does well in capturing the aesthetic of the era. It recalls those memories of blowing on video game cartridges. Of photos downloading one pixel at a time. Of the obsession with making CD mixes. And my god, the horror I felt hearing that AOL dial tone again. Those of you who also grew up back then will recognize the clothes and remember jamming to the banging soundtrack of music that was popular when you were a teen. You’ll likely squeal at a few cameos while Gen-Z scratches their heads in confusion. Hell, there’s even a 90s-style hacker scene, because films from back then would have you believe every teenage group had a hacker in their midst. Top to bottom, this is Mooney’s love letter to the late 90s, and for that, I respect it.

The fact that Y2K is powered by millennial nostalgia isn’t the major malfunction. The bug in this effort is that most of the script powers down outside of the references. At just over ninety-minutes, Mooney’s film has the odd issue of both rushing yet also feeling as if it overstays its welcome. It’s like an extended SNL skit that drags the joke out for as long as it can and stops being funny at a certain point. Some audiences may find themselves unplugging halfway through, if not because of the awkward pacing or undercooked premise, then because these characters just aren’t that engaging. It feels like it would be giving too much credit to say they’re one-dimensional, since their personality is driven by the plot and molded to fit the moment, not the character. For example, Laura is at one point confronted as being the popular girl who doesn’t talk to the other kids…even though at no point beforehand is she referenced as being the ultra-popular girl, never mind a shallow person who ignores others. The film wants The Breakfast Club drama for a little extra conflict, but that’s ineffective with characterizations so thin you can see right through these people.
 
Considering where we are in society and with more than twenty years to reflect on an era where technology was just beginning to plant roots in our minds, Mooney and Winter’s script comes off as weak on the delivery of its message as well. There’s the obvious commentary on the idea of enslavement through tech, but to be frank, that idea isn’t as relevant to the 90s, nor is it applied much in the film. Obsession with tech hadn’t become an issue yet. Most kids didn’t even have cellphones at that time. All you could really do with them was play Snake anyway. Outside of two minutes spent chatting on AOL, Y2K hardly even demonstrates the relationship with tech during the first act. The idea that we bow down to our computer overlords should work for a modern audience, but the half-hearted attempt to make that point in the film doesn’t. Add in a zero to ten escalation with what the machines are capable of—the script quickly skips the Maximum Overdrive style of mayhem and goes right to giant robots with computers for heads mere moments after midnight—and Y2K is an in-cohesive sprint to the finish line more focused on references than telling a compelling story.
 
If you grew up in the 90s, there are plenty of nods to the era to enjoy. And though they may be lacking in variety, the design of the murder bots roaming the screen is impressive to say the least. But fun references and neat monsters aren’t quite enough to carry this half-downloaded concept, especially if you’re anyone besides a millennial. Like other recent time capsule films, Y2K is just that; yet another injection of nostalgia in a culture that has become obsessed with mining every last drop of the past as we reminisce about a time where life hadn’t become a bland hellscape run by tech bros.
 
*In the AOL guy voice*: Goodbye.

Y2K boots up in theaters December 6th from A24. 

By Matt Konopka