Sundance Review: LUZ is a Mood-Driven Work Lacking Emotional Engagement in its Quest for Connection

      Opening with a striking credits sequence as the camera glides through a vibrant landscape of neon signs and lights, one might initially feel they are about to watch the latest Gaspar Noé film. Fortunately, what unfolds in Flora Lau’s second feature, LUZ, is less childish and frustrating than Noé’s work, though it could benefit from a bit more intensity. Primarily a mood piece, this emotionally distant drama follows two loosely connected narratives of alienated individuals navigating a technology-driven world that could potentially offer a path to healing.

      We first meet Wei (Xiao Dong Guo), an ex-convict who works as a muscle for a nightclub owner in the lively, neon-drenched city of Chongqing. His only genuine connection appears to be with cam girl Fa (En Xi Deng), with whom he merely wants to chat. When he discloses that she is his estranged daughter, she promptly blocks him. However, upon discovering her penchant for spending time in a lifelike virtual reality called LUZ, he sets off on a mission to find her. Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, Ren (Sandrine Pinna) learns that her stepmother Sabine (Isabelle Huppert) has little time left, prompting her to travel to Paris in hopes of rekindling their relationship. As Lau alternates between the two narratives, aside from the clear themes of mending a fractured parent-child bond, a more tangible connection emerges through an expressive painting of a deer created by Ren’s deceased father, which hangs prominently in Wei’s workplace, while the mystical depiction of the animal also plays a significant role in the world of LUZ.

      In contrast to the overly elaborate and sterile virtual realms seen in TRON or Ready Player One, LUZ offers an appealing hangout aesthetic. Avatar waiting rooms resemble stylish, neon-lit bars, and for those seeking adventure, they can choose weapons and embark on hunts through forests and other picturesque settings. Shot by cinematographer Benjamin Echazarreta (A Fantastic Woman) with an airy warmth and a subtly pixelated overlay to differentiate from reality, Lau has crafted a fictional universe that feels enticing. Paired with Mimi Xu’s pulsating electronic score, an impressive mise-en-scène emerges throughout the parallel journeys, attempting to compensate for a script that feels stagnant.

      As elements begin to align for these relationships to heal, Lau appears less focused on emotional release and more on the challenges of reconciling after years of separation. When a doctor informs Sabine about experimental treatment options in the United States that may offer healing and her daughter encourages her to consider it, she responds, “Wouldn’t you rather spend money on living life than trying to stay alive?” Although this quest for happiness amid mortality is engaging, the ensemble lacks a strong sense of vitality—most performances resonate with familiar notes of painful predictability.

      Throughout LUZ, I was reminded of Jia Zhang-ke and his expertise in exploring the ever-increasing global and technological progress of the 21st century, framed within deeply moving character studies. Lau’s ambition to achieve similar goals is commendable, weaving a tapestry of moods marked by detachment against a backdrop of urban isolation. However, it’s difficult to ignore the feeling that very little new or complex about our modern existence is being conveyed.

      LUZ premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.

      Grade: C+