*Baby Invasion* is a dizzying descent into a screen-within-a-screen-within-a-screen narrative, where reality and virtuality blur beyond recognition. The film begins with an interview in the "Origon Story," where a woman recounts how her first-person shooter game—featuring baby-faced robbers invading homes—was stolen by Romanian hackers and unleashed on the dark web, inspiring real-life imitators. From this meta-narrative, we shift to a computer screen where a masked kid starts playing the very game, pulling us into its chaotic, nightmarish world.

The bulk of *Baby Invasion* is experienced from the perspective of Yellow, the game’s protagonist, whose face is masked by a cooing infant’s through an AI filter—when it’s not glitching or pixelating entirely. The film is shot in the real world but overlaid with video game elements like collectible icons, mission directives, and live-stream comments. As Yellow and his crew, all color-coded and masked, drive to a florida McMansion to commit murder and indulge in its luxuries, the line between game and reality becomes increasingly indistinguishable.

Harmony Korine’s *Edglrd* films aim to disrupt cinematic norms, positioning themselves as part of a "post-cinema" movement. Yet, *Baby Invasion* bears strong ties to his earlier work, with its focus on disreputable outsiders, recreational criminality, and Florida’s stark contrasts of wealth and decay. The film's universe is alluring, especially in its early moments, blending a nihilistic online culture with a nightmarish, apocalyptic aesthetic. Hallucinatory monsters lurk in the shadows, creating a world that’s as beautiful as it is menacing.

However, *Baby Invasion* is more about vibe than substance. It’s an experience drenched in disaffected romance rather than coherent class critique, and it often feels like it's stalling just to stretch itself to feature length. The film’s focus on vibe and merchandise—evidenced by the Duck Mobb’s horns, also featured in the $1500 demon masks sold out on the Edglrd site—suggests that Korine is more interested in brand building than traditional filmmaking. If this is the future of cinema, it’s one that might leave audiences nauseated—both by its content and its potential implications for the art form.

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