Avis Metacritic

I can’t tell you I bought every last twist and turn in the final act, but thanks to Niccol’s creative direction and the offbeat but effective chemistry between Owen’s emotionally damaged Sal and Seyfried’s is-she-hero-or-villain mystery woman, Anon kept me in its grips throughout.

While the film’s final thesis is a Facebook post with typos at best (delete your accounts, and so on), Niccol is still terrific when he’s breaking down rules, questioning protocol, and testing new ideas.

The story works well enough in its own moodily familiar way, but it’s not only the movie’s palette that’s stylishly leached of color: Its main characters’ backstories feel perfunctory, the dialogue leans heavy on exposition and hard-boiled cliché, and even Owen looks worn down.

A standard-order noir murder mystery with a confused, contrived last act, Anon is more notable for how it sees the future than what it sees going on there.

Part of the thrill in watching Niccol’s movies is in seeing him thoroughly curate dreams of our future that play off like logical possibilities.

There is some freaky fun here. Niccol’s food for thought leaves a lingering taste.

Visually striking, thought-provoking yet emotionally drained, Anon is just too empty to make one care.

Anon lacks identity and arrives at the finish line in a desiccated, cerebral, unsatisfying style.

The premise is smart, the ingredients classy and the overall look stylish. But Niccol’s paranoid anxieties about the totalitarian dangers of cyberspace feel oddly glib and dated, light on thrills or narrative logic.

Even with a strong cast led by Clive Owen and Amanda Seyfried, Netflix's Anon struggles to tell an engaging story.