Every era, as well as the generation that came of age during that time, has something intrinsically tied to that period that becomes an iconic part of the culture, but yet disappears without a trace, being a remnant of the past fondly remembered by those who were present for its invention, while remaining inexplicable to those who grew up afterwards. As someone who grew up in the 2000s, there are few more iconic symbols of this period than the Blackberry, the revolutionary device that was marketed as a “computer within a phone”, and which took the world by storm. Every young person wanted one of these trendy devices, and it managed to infiltrate across generations, becoming one of the most famous items in the world, coveted by nearly everyone who was aware of their existence. It was a cultural coup, and the stranglehold it had on the worldwide culture cannot ever be understated. Yet, as we have seen over the years, there is always a fascinating backstory behind any company and their history, which is what Matt Johnson set out to achieve with Blackberry, in which he takes us on a journey into the decade-long rise and fall of Research in Motion, focusing on a motley crew of dedicated engineers and the volatile CEO who took this business from a small start-up into one of the most successful companies of the 21st century, rising to the very top of the industry before rapidly declining at a pace faster than any of us could imagine possible. One of the year’s more unexpected surprises, and a film that is extraordinarily brilliant in both its chosen subject and its execution, Blackberry is a terrific gem, the kind of project that seems simple in theory, but reveals itself to be extremely ambitious almost immediately. It has bold ideas and a wonderfully dark sense of humour, all of which are perfectly encapsulated throughout this film, which proves to be far more intriguing than it seemed at a cursory glance.

It may seem inexplicable for younger viewers to understand the impact the Blackberry had on the culture for roughly a decade, and both its ascent to being essentially the world’s leading mobile phone brand, to one that currently is responsible for absolutely nothing in terms of global communication (as the film openly mentions in its epilogue), are all consolidated in the history of the era, which was essentially defined by these devices. It may seem strange to have chosen this specific topic as a source of an entire film, since there wasn’t anything particularly compelling about these devices that demanded a story be told about their creation – until we realize that behind the scenes, it was essentially a game of psychological cat-and-mouse, a struggle for power and dominance that is best-described as Shakesperean, both in scope and the sheer dramatic impact. This is likely what drew Johnson to tackle this subject matter, as he clearly understood the impact of the company enough to craft a film that functions essentially as a two-hour examination of the backstage drama around one of the world’s most famous technological inventions. Ultimately, it isn’t the success of the product that makes Blackberry so compelling – it is the long journey towards its success, as well as the rapid decline that creates such a fascinating project, and the director doesn’t waste a single moment in terms of how he constructs this narrative, tackling the cultural impact of this story while adding his own unique flair that proves that he is one of the more interesting voices in contemporary cinema – he has made several terrific films in the past, but Blackberry is the one that feels most authentic to his values, and ultimately proves to be a lot more engaging than it initially seems when we first hear of the story, which does not sound promising in theory, but proves to have many hidden details that make it actively engaging and deeply entertaining, which is not necessarily what we’d expect from such a film.

Tone and intention are the two most important aspects of a film like Blackberry, since the entire premise has to be faithful to a particular idea, but not necessarily the one we would expect at first. The film toggles a very narrow line between comedy and drama, and the mood evoked plays a substantial role in our experience with this film. Johnson is someone whose films often veer towards the more comedic, so it was to be expected that this story would be handled with some degree of humour – and in all honesty, it didn’t even need to look too far to find fertile ground for the comedic aspects, since the rise and fall of Blackberry is certainly hilarious in a very bleak, sardonic way, meaning that he simply had to look for the elements that are most ridiculous and emphasize them alongside the more serious moments, creating a tonal tug-of-war that functions perfectly in the context of this film. It has a terrific sense of humour and an active willingness to go where many similarly-themed films refuse to go, which is what makes it so unique. Ultimately, the film is too funny to take itself too seriously, but also has many sobering ideas embedded throughout, meaning that it was never a work that intended to be too flippant about its ideas, even if there is a thick layer of absurdist humour propelling the entire film. It is difficult to take pity on very wealthy people who earned their riches through manipulation, strong-arming the weak to get their way and simply taking advantage of the people who they not only allowed to be exploited, but actively encouraged. For those of us who tend to experience the delightful schadenfreude of seeing bad people punished for their misdeeds, Blackberry is certainly an exceptional fix, and even if none of these people is necessarily maniacal, it is satisfying to see them face the consequences of their actions, which are simultaneously hilarious and tragic.

While we usually tend to think that a sign of a well-cast film is choosing the obvious choices for certain roles, there are occasions where the best decisions in terms of actors are those that are most unexpected. Perhaps the idea of an intense psychological thriller about the technology industry does not evoke the names of Jay Baruchel and Glenn Howerton, yet they turn in exceptional performances that fit perfectly into this film, proving them both to be excellent dramatic actors, as well as being able to play against type in a way that none of us could have predicted. Baruchel has always done remarkably well in playing socially-awkward young men whose intelligence is often seen as an obstacle in the way of them achieving their ultimate goal, which is usually to fit into society. He makes good use of this persona in the first two-thirds of Blackberry, his distinctive extroverted personality being woven into the role of Mike Lazaridis, the mastermind behind the company. However, it is in the third act when he truly manages to make an impact, showing the sudden and stark transition the character undergoes once he has achieved the wealth he had always envisioned for himself. It’s a detailed, complex performance that somehow works perfectly in the context of what we are seeing on screen. Howerton is the most surprising of them all – he is not a stranger to playing over-emotional, vaguely despicable characters, but this film offers him the chance to do so in a slightly more prestigious way, with his performance as Jim Basillie being an absolute revelation, a moment of extreme brilliance from an actor who has been sorely underrated for years, but has finally emerged as one of the leading talents of his generation. Navigating the narrow boundary between comedy and drama, the cast of Blackberry is brilliant, and brings this story to life with extraordinary dedication, it’s bewildering to imagine no one took the opportunity to cast them in such nuanced roles in the past.

Blackberry is the kind of film that seems to be not only a strange choice of a story to tell, but one that was also deeply unnecessary in theory, since those of us who had never paid attention to the history of the company may not have realized how truly fascinating this story is, which is exactly what Johnson set out to showcase with this film, taking an extremely simple concept and turning it into a precise film with sharp wit and a genuine sense of complexity that we may not have expected at a cursory glance. Naturally, there is a lot more to this film than initially meets the eye, which is why it is so successful – it intends to take us by surprise, and it is impossible to not find value in how this film functions, which is very much about drawing a line between the strange circumstances surrounding the rise and fall of Blackberry, as well as the broader conversations around capitalism. We are seeing a rise in films that present backstage accounts of famous brands, some more interesting than others – but it is difficult to imagine any of them being as compelling as Blackberry, a darkly comedic look at greed, narcissism and the delusions of grandeur that occur when someone is given too much power in too little time. It has many fascinating quirks, and never seems to run out of ideas to explore, which all work together to create this fascinating account of a group of men that worked together to rise to the very top of their industry – but like Icarus, they flew too close to the sun, and their fall was inelegant, tragic and outrageously funny, all of which are elements Johnson employs in his active pursuit of this story, which is an unexpectedly profound work of unquestionable brilliance, and one of the year’s best films.