No Data Plan

No Data Plan is a thought-provoking movie released in 2019, directed by Miko Revereza. Contrary to what the film's title may suggest, No Data Plan is not a story about struggling with technology or Internet connectivity crisis, but rather a metaphorical take on the life of an undocumented immigrant trying to explore his own transient existence while fighting his insecurities.

At its heart, the movie centers around a three-day train journey across the United States, from Los Angeles to New York. However, the filmmaker brilliantly employs this physical journey as a visual canvas to unearth a metaphorical voyage — one that chronicles the life of individuals living 'in the shadows' in America.

The film’s barren landscapes, long shots of passing scenery, and its discreet yet mesmerizing narrative technique captures the all-pervasive, inescapable feeling of anxiety and fear faced by immigrants who constantly live in the dread of deportation.

The movie, largely shot on an iPhone, adopts an experimental style which shuns traditional narrative techniques. Revereza makes the bold choice to avoid direct character interaction and dialogues with only the occasional voiceover serving as a narrative device. He masterfully leverages visual scenery, ambient sound, and spectral voices to create an immersive landscape that lets the viewer reflect upon the fleeting concepts of home, belonging, and identity.

No Data Plan demands from its viewers a degree of patience and seriousness. Sprinkled with personal anecdotes, memories, and historical references, the film's narrative does not take a linear path. The snippets of memories in quiet, whispered voiceovers are soft-spoken and reflective, emphasizing the internal battle that the protagonist wages with his own identity in a country that views him as an outsider.

The movie relies heavily on atmosphere, making extensive use of natural light to either cast imposing shadows or to bathe everything in a warm, sepia hue. The camera often lingers on things that may initially seem mundane: landscapes rushing past, fellow passengers lost in thought or conversation, the clacking of train wheels which evidences the relentless march of time. Yet, these exact shots seem to string together an introspective narrative which strikes a chord not just with immigrants, but anyone who has grappled with a crisis of identity at any point.

No Data Plan is a challenging, introspective look at the realities of existing 'without data,' in the sense of being unattached, anonymous and illegitimate. It delves into the poignant struggle that comes with the existence of being an invisible entity in a place you yearn to call home.

As the film progresses through the landscape, viewers are drawn into the protagonist’s world, a world filled with persistent anxiety, unresolved tension, and a sense of alienation which is compelling and extremely relatable. It's a brave reflection on personal history, the immigrant experience, and an exploration of what belonging truly means in a world of displaced identities.

Revereza presents an intriguing perspective, offering up personal snippets that provide an intimate understanding of what living 'without data' means. From clothes hangers that carry years of untold stories to muted portrayals of characters with deep-seated fears, the movie successfully echoes with the unaddressed plight of immigrants.

Some moments are surprisingly poetic, such as when the protagonist’s reflection in the window merges with the passing landscape, symbolizing the blurred boundaries of self and surroundings. Moments like these signify the struggle of the protagonist in reconciling his past, present, and uncertain future.

Arguably, No Data Plan may not appeal to viewers seeking an action-packed, mainstream dealership of entertainment. But for those who appreciate art-house cinema, this contemplative, artistic exploration is a moving combination of experiential storytelling and immersive cinematography which stretches the conventional boundaries of cinema. This film is a testament to the power of minimalist filmmaking and it is bound to linger in your memory as you imagine the reality faced by millions of undocumented lives across the globe.

Ultimately, No Data Plan is not just a film but a meditation that invites viewers to reflect upon the state of being an immigrant in a world increasingly marked by borders. It paints a heart-wrenching picture of an immigrant's journey, expressing the silence, the struggle, the sense of estrangement, and the subconscious fear that characterizes the 'undocumented' existence.