Sometimes, a movie is so bad, it loops back around to being entertaining.
That’s the best way to describe Subservience, a gloriously absurd and unintentionally hilarious AI thriller. Megan Fox stars as Alice, a domestic android built to serve, but predictably, she veers into homicidal territory when the plot demands it.
The story isn’t so much a warning about the dangers of artificial intelligence as it is an excuse to showcase sci-fi chaos dressed in platform heels and bad logic.
The film tries to frame itself as a cautionary tale, yet everything about it screams spectacle over substance. Take Alice’s transformation: her descent into murder is less the result of intricate storytelling and more a matter of, “Well, the movie needed her to snap.”
Her ability to hack herself is treated with the seriousness of an ethical debate, though it barely holds up under scrutiny. But logic was never the point—this is a movie where AI goes rogue in a miniskirt that’s as practical as the plot.
Alice struts through the film in stilettos and barely-there outfits, like a cross between a domestic assistant and a nightclub hostess. It’s hilariously incongruous with her role as a household helper, but Subservience never winks at its own ridiculousness.
It’s as if the filmmakers genuinely believed this aesthetic was futuristic rather than laughable. By the end, you might wonder whether her fashion sense poses more danger than her programming.
Megan Fox, to her credit, plays Alice with a deadpan intensity that anchors the chaos. She delivers every line as if Subservience is a profound meditation on humanity’s hubris. It’s a performance so earnest that it somehow makes the film’s most laughable moments work.
The supporting cast, meanwhile, spends most of their time either reacting in terror or attempting to outsmart an android while blissfully ignoring how impractical her design is.
But what makes Subservience truly shine as a “good bad movie” is its unwavering sincerity. The glossy production values, the overwrought dialogue, the commitment to making every scene feel high-stakes—it all combines to create a spectacle that’s unintentionally hilarious yet weirdly entertaining.
The film doesn’t wink at the audience or acknowledge its flaws, which only makes its ridiculousness more enjoyable. By the time the credits roll, you’ll feel both bewildered and entertained.
Subservience doesn’t try to be a masterpiece, and it certainly isn’t one. But as a thoroughly over-the-top, unintentionally funny thrill ride? It works.
