Behind the Screen: The Virtual Reality of 'Face 2 Face' (2016)

Behind the Screen: The Virtual Reality of 'Face 2 Face' (2016)

'Face 2 Face' (2016) directed by Matthew Toronto is a digital-era film that explores modern friendships and emotional connections through virtual interactions.

KC Fairlight

KC Fairlight

In a world where emotions hide behind screens, 'Face 2 Face' takes us on a digital roller coaster ride we didn't know we needed. Directed by Matthew Toronto, this 2016 film explores the complexities of teenage connections. The story unfolds between Teel James Glenn's character and Daniela Bobadilla's character as they reconnect through video calls. It's set in a modern-day world, just like ours, where expressing vulnerability is easier online than in person. But why does this matter? Because it’s an honest look at how technology shapes and, at times, distorts human relationships.

'Face 2 Face' kicks off with two teens, separated by miles but connected through the omnipresence of technology, hinting at a friendship that runs deeper than a mere Facebook notification. The movie quickly crafts a tapestry of familiar emotions: joy, anxiety, and the struggles of teenage life — authentic by any standard.

The backdrop of this digital narrative is less about physical locations and more about the spaces they mentally inhabit. The United States offers a geographic setting, but the film's pulse lies in the charged emotional ground that characters navigate. It’s a setting that resonates with Gen Z, a generation raised online.

But how does it all play out? The movie is a back-and-forth of video calls, meaning expression has to break through the screen’s barrier. It's riveting and speaks volumes about how digital life has become our reality. Each conversation is a little Venice of verbal gondola rides, sometimes smooth, sometimes rocky, but always moving.

Both protagonists come with their share of doubts and desires, no different from the youth marching into adulthood — sometimes awkwardly, sometimes triumphantly. Yet, what stands out is an emotional pinch that the virtual setting amplifies. They talk about everything under the sun — family dynamics, personal fears, and societal pressures — themes ever so relevant in a teen's life and relatable.

This isn't your run-of-the-mill teenage romance. There's a depth often missing in adolescent narratives. It’s raw, occasionally melodramatic, but that's the very essence of youth. In an age where a Snapchat streak holds sway, such intimacy over messages is anything but trivial. You feel it, you see it: the color of joy, the shades of pain, and the hues of friendship.

From one perspective, the movie is a reminder of human tenacity — the will to connect, despite barriers. But it isn’t exempt from critique. Some may argue it romanticizes digital distances or even overlooks face-to-face interactions in physical spaces. The debates are valid, especially when we're grappling with building communities and connections offline.

Others might see the movie as a modern-day field study of isolation, a commentary on how we've built walls behind glowing screens. Even advocates for less digital interfacing might concede the platform ‘Face 2 Face’ provides for conversations about mental health, inclusivity, and finding your voice.

The performances, notably Bobadilla’s, give the film an emotional weight. It’s like watching a marionette show where you gradually forget you're watching puppets — the emotions feel that real. Both protagonists are flawed, evolving, relatable — they’re us.

Ultimately, ‘Face 2 Face’ offers more than just a peek into teenage life; it mirrors broader societal dialogues on the digital divide. The juxtaposition of openness and anonymity, sincerity and facade, brings a buffet of thoughts on our digital dependency.

‘Face 2 Face’ echoes the universal need for connection, an idea ever so compelling in today's fragmented world. It captures the essence of friendship through the lens of a generation skilled at bouncing between reality and virtuality.

This film serves as a bridge, inviting conversations on how technology intertwines with our emotional fabric. It asks us to reflect on how we present ourselves to the digital world while inviting a closer look at who we are when the mask drops.

As the credits roll, viewers are left not just with a sense of completion but with a question lingering on our minds: In the quest to be often virtually connected, have we begun to lose the art of real connection? It’s a narrative as much about finding hope as it is about acknowledging the screens between us, both literal and metaphorical.