Holy carp, where do you even begin with Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die? Premiering at Fantastic Fest in August 2025 before its wider release in February 2026, the film immediately establishes itself as something wildly different. Directed by Gore Verbinski (best known for Pirates of the Caribbean) and written by Matthew Robinson, it blends absurd comedy with unsettling sci-fi in a way that feels both chaotic and deeply intentional. The story centers on a man from the future, played by Sam Rockwell, who bursts into a Norms diner claiming the world is about to end. Inside, he gathers a completely random group of people—a pair of struggling teachers, an Uber driver, a grieving mother, and even a woman allergic to Wi-Fi—to stop a nine-year-old from creating a sentient AI that could reshape humanity. It sounds ridiculous, and it is, but that’s exactly the point.
At its core, the film is a commentary on artificial intelligence and our increasingly warped relationship with technology. It pulls directly from real-world anxieties, EX: AI development, algorithm-driven content, and the endless flood of low-effort “slop” online. Whilst exaggerating them just enough to feel uncomfortably real. The idea of a child creating godlike AI isn’t just a sci-fi premise; it’s symbolic of how accessible and unchecked technology has become. Using a child to create this godly AI is a symbol for how new of a technology this is, how it is constantly evolving and changing with the world around us. The film suggests that we’re not just passive users anymore, we’re participants in something we barely understand! There’s a recurring theme of people becoming almost zombie-like through their dependence on screens, constantly consuming without thinking. It’s not subtle, but it doesn’t need to be. The movie holds up a mirror and basically says: “Look at what we’re becoming.”
Where the film really hits hard is in its portrayal of how desensitized we’ve become to violence and tragedy. One of the most shocking scenes involves Mark, a substitute teacher, calmly being told during his first day that a school shooting is happening, and that they should just “wait in the box.” The other teacher treats it like a routine inconvenience, even mentioning it’s the second one that week. Meanwhile, students scroll on their phones, barely reacting. It’s disturbing not because it’s unrealistic, but because it feels like an exaggerated version of reality. Later, the film delivers an emotional gut punch through Susan, a mother who loses her son in that same shooting. Her grief is raw and quiet. (Talk about being gagged in a theater!) until she’s offered an AI-generated replacement of her child! That’s when the film’s message fully clicks: in a world numb to loss, even death becomes monetized. Corporations profit off grief, replacing real human lives with artificial stand-ins, while society barely notices. It’s a brutal critique of how constant exposure to violence (through social media, news, and viral clips) has dulled our ability to truly feel it.
By the time the credits roll, Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die leaves you sitting there in stunned silence, trying to process what you just watched. It’s messy, hilarious, uncomfortable, and painfully relevant all at once. This isn’t just another sci-fi movie, it’s an introspective, chaotic warning about the direction we’re heading in. It challenges how we think about technology, empathy, and what it means to be human in a world that’s increasingly artificial. Whether you walk away loving it or completely shaken by it, one thing’s certain: it sticks with you. And honestly? That’s exactly why you should go watch it. (It just recently went on to streaming, rent it, buy it, stream it, watch it!)
I would like to leave you with a quote from Jerry Seinfeld: “We’re smart enough to invent A.I. — yet dumb enough to need it… and so stupid we can’t even tell if we did the right thing.”
