If it keeps on raining the levy’s going to break. As sang by Robert Plant so it goes in Reminiscence, Lisa Joy’s stodgy science fiction noir some untold years into a future devastated by climate change and war. As an increasingly uninhabitable earth grows wetter and hotter with each passing year, oceans eat away at what is left of America. The roaring heat of the daytime turns humanity into nocturnal creatures. Dry lands become the new gold standard but greedy barons snap up what they can and leave little for the masses. With populations displaced and growing civil unrest, humanity turns increasingly to memories of yesteryear.

Miami inventor Nick Bannister (Hugh Jackson) has figured out a way to monetize nostalgia for prewar days, operating a tactile “remember when?” machine that allows patrons to tap into their more agreeable memories of the past. Playing fetch with the pup in green grass or whispered sweet nothings after a romp in the hay. Paying regulars come to relive these pleasantries but Nick’s “reminiscence” machine doubles as a tactical tool for the cops, used to elicit “confessions” from criminals by tapping into their memories to prove their crimes.

Along comes Mae (Rebecca Ferguson), a seductive, mysterious woman who wanders into Nick’s magical memory emporium one day and sets into motion a deceptively dull whodunit involving murder, kidnapping, infidelity, and stolen memories. Writer, director Lisa Joy, showrunner of HBO’s Westworld, initially shapes the world well, creating an alluring sandbox that’s brought to life with dazzling detail. A Miami turned into a Venice-like series of canals is stunning to behold as are the various shots of a country overcome by the hubris of man and his unwillingness to battle climate change. But much like Westworld, even the finest world building set and most stunning VFX can’t make up for a lack of emotional stakes and general feeling of everything being cold to the touch.

If you cut these characters, would you find wiring? Unlike the convincing androids of Westworld, the answer should be no. And yet despite committed turns from leads Jackson and Ferguson as well as supporting players Thandiwe Newton and Cliff Curtis, Reminiscence feels robotic. Cold. I stopped watching Westworld somewhere in the midst of the second season because I felt out to sea emotionally, untethered to the razzle-dazzle because there was no beating heart beneath the animatronics. Reminiscence suffers that same fate.

For all the intricacy that’s poured into building this world, it still feels hollow. Lip service complexity. We’re told the day-time surface temperatures are too extreme for humans to operate in and yet Mae and Nick are often found lounging on rooftop beds or swooning on a skyscraper bannister without a bed of sweat adorning their perfect brows.

For a project with the potential to combine the likes of Inception and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Reminiscence instead offers joyless forgettable nonsense. A meet-cute Tenet without all the diagrams.

When Mae abruptly disappears, Nick disappears into his memories to try and figure out her fate. Joy’s script leans heavily into angsty, gritty narration here, the dialogue reminiscent of smoky 1940’s noirs, but like the overstory, it tends to be overwritten and corny. Much of the angst of the story to come is spent chasing down explanations whose logic disintegrates like dust the instant they’re put under a microscope. It kinda adds up if you squint but there’s nothing satisfying here. Little that makes the watch worthwhile. We’re told that the world of Reminiscence has been ravaged by water and war but the plot holes and nagging indifference prove just as mighty an adversary. For a movie built on memories, Joy’s joyless creation sure comes up short on actually creating any.

CONCLUSION: ‘Reminiscence’ has all the elements of a successful sci-fi noir – strong world building, solid performances, impressive visual effects – but nothing really clicks in Lisa Joy’s mopey dystopian vision of a mysterious woman and her beau with a memory machine.