Told via three “transmissions,” The Signal stands as a unique interpretation of the end-of-the-world scenario that informs so many works of speculative fiction. The quasi-anthology of interlocking stories depicts the effects of a synapse-disrupting broadcast that travels through all modes of electronic communication — from television sets to telephones — resulting in mass psychosis.
Stephen King’s 2006 novel Cell explored eerily similar territory, but whereas his book ultimately left me thinking, “Why did I bother reading this?,” The Signal had me asking, “Why didn’t I see this sooner?”
Not so much separate stories as shifts in perspective, the tales of co-writer/directors David Bruckner, Dan Bush and Jacob Gentry largely follow an unfaithful young woman (Anessa Ramsey, Rites of Spring) whose blue-collar hubby (AJ Bowen, The House of the Devil) succumbs; the cuckolding boyfriend (Justin Welborn, The Crazies) who tries to save her; her paranoid neighbor (Sahr Ngaujah, Stomp the Yard) who cobbles together some improvised weaponry; and attendees of the bleakest of New Year’s Eve parties. People haven’t taken this many shots to the head since … well, insert the gang-bang joke of your choice here.
For a good half, the proceedings exhibit a freewheeling style where anything can happen; somewhere around that mark, however, it gets caught in a vortex of repetition. The film crawls out of it for the third and final bit, but it pales in comparison to the strongest segment: the first. So while the scrappy triptych amounts to one of diminishing returns, the exercise is arresting just enough to emerge on the side of positive. —Rod Lott