Three decades later, The Truman Show seems troubling in a new way — and startlingly prescient film

TThe great Australian director Peter Weir is perhaps underrated as an auteur, simply because his filmography follows no thematic or stylistic principle; Each of his contributions feels like a complete work of art in itself. Although Picnic at Hanging Rock remains his best work, his journey into Hollywood culminated in Jim Carrey’s stunning and intermittently terrifying The Truman Show. Nearly 30 years after its theatrical release, the film has grown in stature and insight.

Ostensibly, The Truman Show was a dark satire on the relentless voyeurism and manipulation of the media, predating the TV series Big Brother by a year, and it’s hard not to see something causal in it. Both are about surveillance and the blurry line between reality and entertainment; Both include hidden cameras that monitor every move of the participants. The main difference – and what gives the film such moral force – is that Truman does not know that he is appearing on television.

The film revolves around Truman Burbank, an insurance salesman whose entire life takes place not on Seahaven Island as he thinks, but on an elaborate film set. His family, including his hilarious wife Meryl (Laura Linney), his best friend Marlon (Noah Emmerich), and even his mother (Holland Taylor), are paid actors desperate to keep the illusion alive and get the show on the air. The strings are pulled by the god-like Kristoff (Ed Harris), who runs the show from “the moon.”

When the film begins, Truman is already longing for a director while pining for Sylvia (Natasha McElhone), the girl who ran away — or rather was shipped off for ruining Kristoff’s casting plans. Seahaven’s antiseptic cleanliness and sunny palette may mask its insidious monocultural grip. But as Truman’s doubts grow, and society conspires to keep him ignorant and imprisoned, things become very dark indeed. It’s the scariest movie in full light that I know of (and yes, I’ve seen Midsommar).

The first sign, in the opening minutes, comes from the sky: a large stage light falls from the sky, hitting the street outside Truman’s house. The interruptions continue from a mixed radio signal to a fake elevator, and we find ourselves cheering on Truman as he forcefully opens the doors of perception. Kristof – who has a fascist tendency to throw his representatives under the bus – tries the soft power of diplomacy first, sending Truman’s wife and mother as compliance agents. When they fail, Kristoff sends in the deadliest weapon in his arsenal: his best friend.

It is in this central scene that Weir shows his metaphorical hand. Marlon placates Truman with an undeniable fraternal lure: “Think about it, Truman. If everyone’s in on it, I’ve got to be in on it, too.” But his lines are fed directly by the obnoxious Christophe. We are in the world of the Stasi, a totalitarian world that infects the domestic sphere, poisoning the very words that come out of our mouths, and Emmerich, as Marlon, brilliantly captures the moral price the conformist pays for maintaining the status quo. All the horrors of political supplication are written on his face.

Carrey is a great guy, and we can be thankful Weir waited an entire year in pre-production to secure him. His cheesy smile and “Good evening, good evening, good night” conjure the optimism of 1950s middle America, and he is so attuned to emulating the world around him that his skepticism and assertiveness once the veil falls seem almost revolutionary. Carrey’s precision as a comedian creates an impeccable armor under which his existential core simmers.

One of the miracles of The Truman Show is the way it trades on the allure and artifice of cinema. It’s like a magician who reveals what’s up his middle trick. The production is designed to be within an inch of his life and emotionally contrived in equal measure, and Seahaven continues to seduce because it plays on our fears as much as it plays on our dreams. It is no coincidence that Christophe has to instill lifelong fears in Truman in order to maintain his “safety.”

Rewatching it now, Ware’s masterpiece is less about voyeurism and the entertainment industry than about the individual and his relationship with the state. We have created a world of pure selfishness, where we are all Truman and Christophe together, endlessly editing and organizing our lives in the hope that someone is watching us. But we are still enslaved to the economic model that holds that everything is for sale; Remember, The Truman Show can only exist because its world is filled with top-to-toe product placement. It is an hermetic wealth-enhancing ecosystem that ignores individual rights. Sound familiar?

• The Truman Show airs on Stan (AU) and is available for rent (US/UK). For more recommendations on what to stream in Australia, click here