Indie Series: ‘SHELL’ Makes Its Returns In The Form Of A Subliminal Science Fiction Series

Switching genres is no easy task, but Wesley Chan seems to have it down.

The 2011 release of his short film, SHELL, created a buzz due to that craftiness with which he inserted thought-provoking dialogue into a very simple setting. It featured a man (Chris Dinh) and a woman (Mimi Chao) engaging in a reflective conversation that subsequently turns into a romance. On the surface, there wasn’t anything too complex about this plot, except it planted the seed for nuance by introducing the concept of manipulating memories. Even though the two actors were able to resolve their feelings in under six minutes, the ideas they shared still felt … unexplored.

A decade later, Chan announced that he would once again take on the role of writer and director for the film’s reboot, this time in the form of a miniseries. Earlier this year, Wong Fu Productions put out SHELL: The Series on YouTube in four separate installments. Much like the original, it has generated over a million views and positive reviews.

This sequel is an extension of the hypothesis around which Dinh and Chao sparked their connection in the original film. Due to the current state of technology and evolving sensibilities around the human condition, this deeply existential series tackles the subject of altering one’s memories for the sake of psychological and emotional advancement, leaving no “what if” unproved.

Chan dispels the notion that science and art operate independent of one another by demonstrating that creativity in its most progressive and abstract state is what inspires scientific innovation. He is able to do this by putting forth a simple question that doesn’t have a straightforward answer: Will artificial memories that are curated to a person’s liking be a force for good or bad in the grand scheme of things?

Dinh and Chao scratch the surface of this discussion in the 2011 film:

“What good is it if it didn’t really happen? No one would believe it,” Chao says.
“Well, you’d believe it. It’s about the feeling, that’s what matters,” Dinh responds.

Whereas she prefers her stories based in reality, he prefers the comfort of a fiction where he gets to be in control of his own narrative and decide what happens. As he explains to her the details of a fictional memory that would bring him the intimacy he was craving, she leans in and kisses him.

Just like that, “fiction becomes reality.”

Fast forward ten years and the story picks up from a different, more scientific angle. A cognitive science grad student named Adam (Lawrence Kao) has realized the practice of implanting artificial memories into a range of subjects (one of whom is Dinh) — he refers to these implants as “Shells.” Still in the experimental stages of this process, he tries to find his way around the ethics of a creation that has turned out to be just as harmful as it is helpful. The moral obligations of birthing something that could potentially cause a great deal of damage and distress is central to the revival of SHELL. Similar to how Alfred Novel regretted inventing the dynamite, Adam begins having second thoughts about his well-intentioned endeavor.

This is precisely what makes this transition from short film to miniseries so gripping — not only is it a shift in format but it is also a pivot in genre. It goes from a philosophical conversation to a science-fiction reality built around the same theme. The tone of the SHELL franchise changes entirely, so much so that the final episode is a reversal of the film’s conclusion: “Reality becomes fiction.”

The general concept of the series is eerie because it addresses social alienation, loneliness and unfulfilled desires at a profound level. It gives viewers a glimpse of how technology can help people fill the gaping holes in their souls by tricking themselves. Unlike the film, the four-part show is far darker in that it emphasizes desperation instead of love.

“I can’t believe she’s not real,” Dinh says to Adam as he recovers from a Shell-induced slumber in which he was with the love of his life.
“Trust me, it’s better that way. It’s about the feeling, that’s what matters,” Adam responds, echoing Dinh’s exact words from the prequel.

The focus is now acting on regrets and missed opportunities — bringing alive those fantasies that put us to sleep. The problem, of course, lies in how people who seek Adam’s “treatment” become dependent on it. Aside from helping people stay afloat, the Shell helps them swim.

“There are two realities at war in your mind,” Adam says to a subjects who has become too reliant on the Shell. “The one you’re suppressing is the truth.”

The process of the Shell augments a person’s reality by temporarily implanting false memories in their minds for positive reinforcement, but the truth remains that “no shell can withstand the strength of a real memory.” Though saving people from themselves seems like a noble act, the only way to do that, at least in this world, is to distract those people from the severity of their situations. If you keep certain memories at bay long enough, they eventually come flooding back in, causing more damage than before.

Sheltering people with lies is tantamount to feeding them drugs (to the point where they even have “microdoses” of “soft Shells”) — there will come a time when the person in question will have to face the truth, and the sooner they do so, the better it will be for them.

The high-quality cinematography, introspective script, detail-oriented acting and tasteful casting of Chan’s latest project all combine to make this a high-quality production. This isn’t a series that you want to know too much before watching it, because its hour-and-a-half run time is extraordinarily rewarding.

SHELL: The Series will have you rethink your life, your priorities and the factors that motivate your actions.