Alexander Berger’s Man vs Phone is the rare feature that feels both wickedly entertaining and unsettlingly prophetic, a post-COVID comment so sharp it cuts long after the credits roll. Where Spike Jonze’s Her gave us a tender love story between man and machine, Berger’s film flips that tenderness on its head. Man vs Phone isn’t about connection, it’s about disintegration. It’s a dark, funny meditation on how technology doesn’t just shape our lives, it can hollow us out from the inside.
The film follows Manny (Alexander Berger), a socially adrift thirty-something whose primary relationship is with his smartphone. What begins as casual dependency quickly warps into something far more insidious? His phone isn’t just a tool or even a crutch. It becomes a manipulator, a gas-lighter, a parasite that knows all his weaknesses and exploits them with brutal efficiency. The more Manny clings to it, the more isolated and unrecognizable he becomes.
Berger directs with a keen eye for visual storytelling, trapping his character in cold, antiseptic spaces. The pandemic world feels both limited and claustrophobic, with endless scrolling screens and endless options, but no real escape. Berger’s cinematography deserves credit here; the framing subtly tightens as Manny’s reality narrows, making the audience feel every inch of his descent.
“The more Manny clings to it, the more isolated and unrecognizable he becomes.”
Tonally, Man vs Phone hits a sweet spot between black comedy and psychological horror. Berger isn’t interested in tech fear-mongering or easy satire. Instead, he digs into the slow, pathetic tragedy of loneliness, the way devices promise fulfillment but often amplify the emptiness we’re trying to escape. There are moments that sting with uncomfortable truth, but Berger wisely lets the humor bleed through. Some scenes are hilarious in that “I shouldn’t be laughing, but I am” way, especially as Manny argues with his increasingly malevolent device, spiraling into full-blown breakdowns.
Comparisons to Her are inevitable, but where Jonze’s film offered romantic melancholy, Man vs Phone is far more cynical. It shows a world where love, validation, and even identity are commodities you barter for, likes, clicks, and algorithmic approval. Manny’s relationship with his phone is less about intimacy and more about servitude, a one-sided devotion to a partner that’s programmed to exploit him. And the film doesn’t offer a neat, redemptive arc either. Berger is clear-eyed about the reality he’s depicting: in this world, breaking free isn’t as simple as hitting “delete.”
There’s a sad, almost Chaplinesque quality to Manny, desperate, vulnerable, and painfully relatable. Watching his slow unraveling is both heartbreaking and hypnotic, especially because Berger never lets him off the hook. Manny is both victim and accomplice in his own downfall, and the film is all the more devastating for it.
Man vs Phone is an unsettling look at the modern condition reflecting our worst technological compulsions back at us. A darkly hilarious, deeply uncomfortable feature that feels disturbingly close to real life. After watching it, you might stare at your own phone a little longer, and wondering who’s really in control.
"…the way devices promise fulfillment but often amplify the emptiness"
