BlackBerry

There is a specific, tactile anxiety in the click-clack of a 2005-era keyboard that today’s glass-slab smartphones just can’t replicate. It’s the sound of productivity, of self-importance, and—in the case of Matt Johnson’s BlackBerry—the sound of a multi-billion-dollar empire slowly vibrating itself off a table. I watched this movie while wearing a pair of fuzzy wool socks with a massive hole in the left toe, and somehow that felt like the perfect attire for a story about brilliant people who were too busy conquering the world to notice their own foundation was fraying.

The Shark and the Engineering Room

Most "product biopics" in this current streaming-heavy era feel like long-form commercials or vanity projects. We’ve been inundated with movies about sneakers, cell phones, and even pop-tarts lately. But BlackBerry avoids the corporate hagiography trap by being a sweaty, frantic, and hilariously mean-spirited autopsy of success. It centers on the unholy alliance between Mike Lazaridis (Jay Baruchel) and Jim Balsillie (Glenn Howerton).

Mike is the archetypal engineering "egghead"—brilliant, obsessive, and morally anchored to the quality of his signal. Jay Baruchel plays him with a halting, soft-spoken intensity that makes his eventual transformation feel like a slow-motion car crash. Then there’s Jim. If you know Glenn Howerton from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you know he does "unhinged rage" better than anyone currently working. Here, he turns that dial to eleven. Jim Balsillie is basically Dennis Reynolds if he traded the D.E.N.N.I.S. system for a hostile takeover and a private jet. He is the predatory force of nature that the quiet nerds at Research In Motion (RIM) needed to survive the 90s, but he’s also the shark that eventually eats the boat.

A Documentary of a Disaster

Director Matt Johnson (who also plays Doug Fregin, the movie-loving, headband-wearing heart of the company) shoots the film with a kinetic, handheld camera style that feels like we’re watching a high-stakes heist from inside the air vents. It doesn’t have the polished, chilly aesthetic of David Fincher’s The Social Network. Instead, it looks like a mid-2000s office documentary that’s been found in a dumpster. This lo-fi approach makes the drama feel immediate and grounded. When Michael Ironside shows up as the terrifying "cleaner" Charles Purdy, the movie shifts from a nerdy comedy into something resembling a corporate horror film.

The chemistry between the leads is what keeps the engine humming. While Jay Baruchel and Matt Johnson provide the warmth—hosting movie nights and arguing over the integrity of a prototype—Glenn Howerton provides the lightning. His Jim Balsillie is a man who treats every conversation like a war of attrition. There is a scene involving a botched pitch at a major telecom office that left me holding my breath; it’s a masterclass in tension, highlighting how the "BlackBerry" was built on equal parts genius and pure, unadulterated bluffing.

The Tragedy of the "Next Big Thing"

What makes BlackBerry so relevant to us right now is how it captures the terrifying speed of technological obsolescence. In an era where we’re constantly told the "next AI revolution" is five minutes away, watching the king of the 2000s get decapitated by the arrival of the iPhone is a sobering experience. The film captures that specific moment of arrogance when a market leader decides they don't need to innovate because they've already won.

Despite being one of the best-reviewed films of 2023, BlackBerry suffered at the box office, earning just $2.6 million against a $5 million budget. It’s a classic victim of the "wait for streaming" mentality that has plagued mid-budget adult dramas lately. It was eventually expanded into a three-part miniseries for television, which is a testament to how much rich, character-driven material Matt Johnson and Matthew Miller squeezed out of the source book, Losing the Signal.

The trivia behind the scenes is just as scrappy as the company itself. To save money and maintain authenticity, they filmed in Hamilton and Waterloo, Ontario, often in real tech environments. They also made the bold choice to give Jay Baruchel a wig that looks increasingly like a dead silver fox as the movie progresses—the wigs in this movie deserve their own horror spin-off, but they effectively communicate the soul-sucking passage of time and the stress of maintaining a global monopoly.

BlackBerry is a rare bird in contemporary cinema: a smart, funny, and deeply cynical tragedy that doesn't ask you to like its protagonists, only to understand their obsession. It avoids the "girlboss/tech-bro" glorification we see too often today, opting instead to show how the very things that make a company great—perfectionism and ruthless ambition—are the exact things that will eventually burn it to the ground. If you missed this in theaters (and statistically, you did), go find it. It’s the most fun you’ll have watching a company die.