PicoBlog

NEW STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This newsletter aggressively spoils things.

In our ongoing effort to make our profession seem really complex and demanding (instead of just making increasingly silly shit up), writers will often talk about world-building. That essentially means describing and explaining the universe that the story takes place in, everything from the laws of physics (do your winters last for decades?) to magic systems to politics, religion, ethnic and racial concerns—everything.

Some folks make the mistake of assuming that if their story is set in the “real” world (i.e., this here universe you and I are currently occupying) you don’t have to do any world-building, but this is a huge mistake. Even if you’re setting your story in a recognizably realistic, mundane world you still have to put some thought into establishing the rules of that universe, even if they’re just subtle things largely having to do with character interactions and hierarchies. In short, there is no such thing as a fictional story that exists in a totally realistic universe. There’s always at least a sprinkling of pure imagination in there somewhere.

And then you have stories that are set in fantastic versions of this universe. A story like the Netflix adaptation of Bridgerton, for example: Set in the Regency Era in England, yes, but in an alternate universe version of that historical period where the rules of class, race, and politics are very much altered. You could describe stories like that as part of the fantasy genre except the alternative part isn’t really intended that way; it’s this squishy gray area where you’re supposed to imagine just one very specific aspect of the universe is very, very different but everything else is more or less how you learned about it in school.

Even in stories where the writer plays fast and loose with the reality of their universe, though, there’s usually a certain attention to detail in order to achieve verisimilitude. And then there’s a story like They Cloned Tyrone, where the world-building is deliberately vague.

They Cloned Tyrone is a fun little movie that dropped onto Netflix in the way fun little movies do: Quietly and without any fanfare whatsoever. You’d be forgiven for not knowing this movie even existed, but it is actually quite enjoyable. The story starts off simply: Fontaine (John Boyega) is a drug dealer in the impoverished, predominantly Black neighborhood of the Glen. He goes to collect a debt from Slick Charles (Jamie Foxx), who’s fighting with one of his girls, Yo-Yo (Teyonah Parris) and is shot dead in the parking lot of Charles’ motel. Then he wakes up the next day and repeats it all as if nothing happened.

It’s quickly clear this isn’t a Groundhog Day riff, though; Slick Charles and Yo-Yo are terrified to find Fontaine alive and well, and the trio quickly form an ersatz investigating club to find out what’s happening. And what’s happening is some weird, Get Out-style shit involving, yes, clones and a lot of other crazy stuff. It’s fun! And very funny. But what’s really intriguing is the world-building, because you’d be hard pressed to figure out exactly when this story is taking place.

On the one hand, the film is processed to be grainy like classic 1970s stock, and everyone is costumed like they’re in a Blaxploitation movie from 1971. I mean, lord, look at this photo:

When the evil folks who are running the evil stuff show up, they’re dressed more or less contemporarily. On the other hand, all the cars are older, and the televisions are all old CRT models. On the other other hand, there are cell phones, and there’s clearly a modern-style cable news system in effect. If it wasn’t purposeful, it would simply be bad world-building: The Rule of Cool ruining another film because someone wanted to see Jamie Foxx in a slick pimp outfit even if it made no damn sense. But the incoherent look of this universe is purposeful, and not simply because of the ultimate reveal of what’s going on.

So what Fontaine, Charles, and Yo-Yo eventually discover is that their neighborhood is the subject of a massive experiment to keep the Black population docile and quiet while an ambitious genetic experiment is conducted that will slowly transform Black folks into, well, white folks. The idea is that this is the only peaceable outcome of our modern, racially divided times—the only alternative, the evil mastermind of the scheme believes, is violence and bloodshed.

So, the anachronisms make sense on a top level: Life in the Glen is scripted like a video game to keep everyone hustling and going to church and eating fast food while the secret underground labs work towards this lofty, horrifying goal. Simple enough, but there’s something else going on with the universe they’ve built here, one that absolutely feels like a video game level where you play as Youngblood Priest: It’s unsettling.

Stories stories often hide their cards, keeping secrets in order to shock and surprise the audience. Priming your audience for the reveal is an art, and it often starts with hints in the form of tiny details that unsettle. The growing sense that something is wrong is a powerful storytelling tool, and it works to great effect here in They Cloned Tyrone. The more you pay attention, the more you realize that nothing makes sense. From the costuming to the advertisements, the TVs and the cars, and the repetitive NPC nature of the side characters (especially Fontaine’s mother), there’s just something off about the whole universe here, and it pays off nicely when the truth starts to emerge. The fact that much of the world-building was perfunctory and could have been easily debunked (see Fontaine’s mother again) with the tiniest bit of effort is just a nice grace note.

Sometimes you’re uncomfortable watching a movie and you’re not sure why until the story’s over. Of course, I’m still wearing flannel shirts I bought in 1990 as if time stopped moving, so who am I to judge someone’s fashion sense?

NEXT WEEK: Yellowjackets and weaponized uncertainty.

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