WE KEEP GOING BACK TO THE MATRIX
IN 1999, HUMANITY tumbled down the rabbit hole of The Matrix, and the world was never the same. The film followed a group of hackers battling the sentient A.I. who had enslaved the unknowing human race inside a simulation—the titular matrix, a Descartes’ demon for the digital age. There was a smorgasbord of ’90s-era cinematic points, combining Hong Kong–style martial arts action with the geek chic of Hackers and the murderbot apocalypticism of Terminator 2. But despite the familiarity of the elements, it became a cultural event of unparalleled resonance, both long-lasting and widespread.
At the time, the movie’s fandom comprised a motley crew of wildly disparate groups, each finding a slightly different meaning in its message. The nerds of the world went wild for the vision of a revolution fought in a virtual reality where their kind could live like kings. Evangelical Christians saw God in The Matrix enthralled by the best modern-day Jesus narrative since Narnia.
Misfits and punks swooned for its goth-industrial aesthetic, then sneered at the latecoming poseurs who thronged to Hot Topic in its wake. And in the decades since, disillusioned cynics, from men’s rights types to fans of Donald Trump, have adopted the film’s catchall metaphor for self-chosen enlightenment—the decision to either take a blue pill and continue living in ignorance as a slave, or take a red pill and become awakened to the deep truth of the world around you—only to be hip checked by progressive activists pointing to the gender transitions of the movie’s director-siblings, Lana and Lilly Wachowski, as evidence that the film was always actually a transgender parable.
They’re all right—and they’re, which, just like its titular simulation, doesn’t care much about the hearts or minds of the people who are plugged into it. Inside the matrix, you exist as a projection of whoever you believe yourself to be; watching it from the outside, you can project onto it to your heart’s content.
