Military-controlled water supplies. Robotic agricultural laborers. Privatized recollections. In Alex Rivera’s 2008 science fiction film "SleepDealer," everything can be bought as impoverished, replaceable workers from developing nations connect to devices that fuel the global economic system.
Even though 17 years have gone by since the debut of this politically charged Latin American cyberpunk movie at Sundance — where it received both the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award and the Alfred P. Sloan Prize — its significance remains undiminished. Set in "SleepDealer," national boundaries remain sealed off; however, US companies persistently monopolize natural assets and mistreat laborers south of the border in Mexico. Our main character, Memo Cruz—a worker operating robots in Tijuana—embodies these struggles within an America wary of immigrants. heavily relied upon for labor, yet increasingly surveilled, targeted and deported expeditiously without due process The dystopian world depicted in "SleepDealer" seems more closely aligned with our present reality now than ever before.
Rivera notes, "The film endures with a certain melancholy, as itswarnings and profound observations on the peculiarity of techno-capitalism grow increasingly pertinent over time." He adds, "Yet, I am glad that the movie has stood up against the passage of time and continues to be utilized and discussed."
As a Peruvian-American filmmaker hailing from New York City, Rivera drew inspiration for his fictional world-building from his real-life experience recording the distressing accounts of immigrants in the United States. After the 2008 debut of his feature film, Rivera has remained active: he earned a MacArthur Genius Award and nurtured the subsequent wave of Latino filmmakers by launching Borderland Studios At the Sidney Poitier New American Film School. Throughout this time, according to Rivera, the viewership of "SleepDealer" has kept expanding annually. Recently, the film was shown in 35mm format to a full crowd at the theater. Academy Museum of Cinematic Arts In Los Angeles, as part of its "Cyberpunk: Imagining Potential Futures Through Film" series.
During my Zoom conversation with Rivera, it seemed as though we were experiencing our personal apocalyptic scenario right here in Los Angeles. Having recently covered the LA wildfires for my report, I was still reeling from those events when Rivera recounted returning to his residence in Pasadena following the evacuation caused by the Eaton Fire. Our recent discussion delved into how relevant his movie remains and his aspirations regarding viewer inspiration in contemporary times.
This discussion has been refined for brevity and clearness.
I'm not Mexican American, but I felt profoundly moved as somebody connected to a diaspora community. Could you share your motivation for composing this movie mainly in Spanish?
Initially, the aim was to create something reflective of contemporary popular culture intertwined with post-colonial political themes. One key aspect of "SleepDealer" was challenging expectations regarding the future. Often, these expectations assume that the future will predominantly speak English and emerge from an anglophone perspective; however, this notion does not hold up anymore. With each passing year, we observe that the future will indeed be multilingual. Thus, producing sci-fi content in Spanish was exhilarating as it underscores how this language represents much more than just history—it’s integral to shaping our future.
In your movie, individuals no longer perform manual work; instead, they mechanistically control much of what we observe around us. In "Sleep Dealer," the protagonist, Memo Cruz, This individual controls the robot from Tijuana to build a structure in San Diego. In "SleepDealer," how does that additional technological aspect illustrate the dehumanization of migrant workers within today’s economic landscape? Both liberal and conservative perspectives argue for legalizing immigrants due to their contribution as laborers essential to our nation.
I begin with the fundamental concept of labor alienation that permeates our daily lives. The work involved in creating the food we eat, the clothing we wear, and the structures we inhabit often remains unseen.
The concept of having a worker from a different area or nation control machinery locally is an amplified version of this prevalent phenomenon. Current technological networks enable incredibly intense and exaggerated methods of data transfer and execution. Regardless of how corporations may portray their products as transcendent entities, there remains an underlying presence influencing operations within the system.
I'd like to explore the concept of technology acting both as a means of connecting people and separating them. In the narrative, we observe Memo attempting to integrate nodes into his flesh to connect with the worldwide economic system. While embedding tech beneath our skin isn't standard practice just yet, I notice many similarities between Memo’s experience with digital segregation in his society and what occurs in ours today. For instance, individuals without internet access in their communities face exclusion from participating in the broader economic landscape. This highlights how technological advancements can intensify pre-existing disparities.
Memo’s family hails from Oaxaca, a region where an enormous company has taken control of a dam further up the river. Due to climate-driven shortages, all local resources are now under strict surveillance. While crafting this movie, what was your perspective on climate change?
These concepts originated from a straightforward premise: Capitalism lacks morality and will consume whatever it’s permitted to devour. In this scenario, capitalism has spiraled out of control, seizing every resource—including water—and repackaging it for sale back to those who were initially deprived of it. This line of thought extended further to encompass elements such as personal memories; could they too be commercialized similar to bottled water? And what about interpersonal connections, friendships, individual moments—could these also become commodities? Therefore, the underlying principle connecting all aspects of "SleepDealer" revolves around the notion of appropriation, privatization, and market-driven exploitation.
We also observe Rudy Ramirez, a combat drone operator, defying his orders. Being Mexican American himself, he simultaneously becomes an instrument of harm directed at individuals resembling him. In light of this, how does one interpret such scenarios when examining the constraints of contemporary identity politics?
I believe that identity politics is essentially the key to comprehending American history. It’s impossible to grasp both the historical and current state of the U.S. without examining how race has been systematically constructed and utilized within this nation, leading to tensions and rivalries amongst the working class.
Indeed, it holds true that black and brown individuals often find themselves integrated into the heart of the imperial system and end up enforcing the very regime that marginalizes them and maintains inequalities. Rudy is portrayed as an emissary of this empire; however, he has a fissure within him.
In our communities of color, we observe individuals joining law enforcement agencies and military organizations that frequently deploy them to regions plagued by conflict. Consider a Hispanic family forced to flee due to the U.S.-and-CIA-supported civil strife in El Salvador; they relocate here and may bear children who later enlist in the military only to be sent back to countries in the Southern Hemisphere. Such cycles play out within our households regularly. This situation is intricate and layered since identities aren’t theoretical constructs but deeply personal experiences intertwined with historical events.
In the film, you have "coyoteks," a high-tech iteration of coyotes involved in smuggling individuals across borders to work as migrant laborers. ers in the U . These individuals with implanted nodes are also enabling a shift in labor through illegal subdermal insertions. Could you elaborate some more on what inspired this concept?
[Melvin Kranzberg] famously stated, "Technology isn’t inherently good. Technology isn’t inherently bad. And yet, it’s not neutral either."
Technology serves as a framework that facilitates some aspects while hindering others, offering flexibility yet imposing limitations. This concept underpins "SleepDealer." Upon entering capitalist systems, these technological advancements swiftly get utilized for fostering detachment, exploitation, and extreme profit-making, thereby establishing environments where businesses and capital holders can operate effortlessly and expedite their activities.
However, these influences are not the sole factors encompassing these technologies. There are additional motivations at play: the desire for companionship, the wish to listen to a dear person’s voice, and the urge to establish connections with individuals who belong to the same social category and hold similar political views.
While working on "SleepDealer," I paid close attention to the ways in which both the Pentagon and businesses were leveraging technology... yet I couldn’t ignore how groups like the Zapatistas and events such as the World Social Forum utilized these tools. It’s clear from everyday experience too. The portrayal of tech within the movie reflects this dual nature: a battleground marked prominently by isolation and exploitation tendencies.
However, the narrative remains unfinished. There is room to infiltrate, to fight, and to devise new possibilities, stripping these technologies from their origins rooted in capitalism, repurposing them for different ends.
This tale initially surfaced in Los Angeles Times .