Vice (2015)

Vice has the kind of pulpy, high-concept hook that sci-fi thrillers are built on: a luxury playground where “anything goes,” until one of its too-human artificials starts remembering what she was never supposed to. Brian A. Miller keeps the movie moving with a lean, late-night cable vibe—neon futurism, serviceable sets that sell the idea, and a chase-driven momentum that turns moral unease into action. Ambyr Childers brings a surprisingly grounded spark to the film’s central awakening, while Thomas Jane gives the story a hard-edged, noir-ish pressure as the cop determined to burn the whole place down. It’s not for everyone—its R-rated violence and exploitative premise can feel grim—but if you like scrappy, idea-forward genre movies that flirt with big questions while delivering a brisk ride, it’s an easy watch.

Vice wants to be a slick, cautionary sci-fi thriller about a “anything goes” fantasy resort and the cost of treating humanlike androids as disposable toys, and that’s a premise with real bite. The problem is the movie leans hard on familiar Blade Runner/Westworld ideas without adding much of its own, and it often replaces tension and world-building with blunt exposition and stop-start momentum. If you’re hoping for moody atmosphere, sharp social commentary, or inventive action, this will likely feel flat and a bit cheap. Still, Ambyr Childers brings some conviction to the central escape-and-survival thread, and if you’re in the mood for a straightforward, pulpy late-night watch that doesn’t demand much, you might get enough out of it.