The “old world” is a wasteland. People still live there, but not for very long. Those in the “new world” live hundreds of years thanks to a drug that slows aging. It’s groundbreaking technology that comes at a price: the combination of scarce real estate on which to live safely and figurative immortality means less to go around for a populace that never decreases. The compromise was thus to take China’s now-defunct “one-child policy” to the nth degree and render the conception of all children illegal. Unless you’re granted a waiver by the government, but that permission is understandably not easily won. You must prove yourselves worthy as a couple via a seven-day evaluation.
This is the sci-fi backdrop to Fleur Fortune’s The Assessment. Originally written by Mrs and Mr Thomas (Nell Garfath Cox and Dave Thomas), the script ultimately passed through John Donnelly’s hands to ensure the first-time screenwriters’ work was ready for production. It stars Elizabeth Olsen and Himesh Patel as Mia and Aaryan, a successful couple who’ve made crucial breakthroughs in their fields (botany and computer science) to benefit humanity. As such, they feel they’re perfect candidates to raise a child. They know people in high places, live comfortably, and perhaps “deserve” the distinction as a reward for a job well done. Unfortunately, the decision lies solely with their assessor.
Enter Virginia (Alicia Vikander). We meet her as a woman devoid of humor. She’s here to complete her task; no amount of charm her subjects may possess will sway her extremely pragmatic judgment. Virginia’s questions are intrusive. She provokes Mia and Aaryan in ways that force them to confront their emotions and attempt to keep them in check whenever a nerve is touched. An adversarial dynamic is built with intent on Virginia’s part––she must ensure the behavior she’s studying is authentic. So it should come as no surprise when she enters the kitchen the following morning acting like a four-year-old child in desperate need of attention, discipline, and love.
You hope Virginia will give them at least a day’s grace period to get used to the idea that they must treat her like a toddler––springing it upon them is like adding gasoline to a fire. Mia and Aaryan already think this assessment has gone too far, and with good reason: all privacy is rendered nonexistent by her unfettered access to everything. Having to deal with the fallout of this new performative wrinkle is crazy, but that’s the job. If they both decide to leave the room to take care of something else, Virginia isn’t going to adhere to some tacit timeout. She’s going to take advantage of the situation and wreak absolute havoc.
The test is about more than mere supervision––though that’s pretty important when you consider the myriad ways a young child could get themselves killed in and around a home that’s never heard the word “childproof.” It’s also about patience. Empathy. Responsibility. Mia and Aaryan are very career-oriented and living in a world where children aren’t allowed renders it difficult to flip the switch that shifts work into second place. So Virginia pushes them. And pushes some more until the fact that she is very much not a child begins to taint the results. At some point you wonder how this became the process––it seems more like setting them up to fail than preparing them to succeed.
I wish Fortune and Donnelly focused on that aspect without the other noise. Rather than let the reasons for the test be the spark, the script tries elaborating on its mythology by introducing new characters and backstories that do more to take us away from the central intrigue than augment it. The scenes themselves are entertaining (a dinner party with Minnie Driver, Indira Varma, and others is an unmitigated disaster in the best way), but the threads they introduce mostly go unanswered. Did the filmmakers not pare down a bloated original manuscript enough or are they banking on sequel potential to dig deeper? There’s simply not enough room to supply it all with adequate investment.
And while the inevitable devolution of Mia and Aaryan’s union under the stress of this assessment and their respective truths hidden beneath their ideal of love is dramatic, it’s Virginia who steals the show. Not because she’s an absurdly insane character that Vikander knocks out of the park, but because there’s a reason for her intensity. We just don’t discover it until the end. That’s fine for what occurs next, but everything prior comes across as an elaborate gag without that context. It’s a case where I’ll probably like the film more on second viewing than the first––it holds back too much integral information to orchestrate a narrative twist.
Regardless of whether The Assessment bit off more than it could chew, I did still enjoy it. The themes are sound, if also somewhat overt (Aaryan seeing parenthood as an achievement whereas Mia sees it as a reward). The production design is amazing. And performances engage throughout. The tone can get too jokey for its own good regarding subject matter, but I didn’t necessarily hate it. That’s what happens when the utopia you thought you helped build reveals itself to be a dystopian hellscape devoid of freedom. Because death is so much more than just an ending. Remove it from the equation and life quickly loses its point.
The Assessment premiered at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival.