In Gore Verbinski's absurdist AI sci-fi satire ''Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die,'' a strange unnamed man (Sam Rockwell) steps into a Los Angeles diner and declares that he's from the future. ''All of this is going to go horribly wrong,'' he says.
Norm's diner on La Cienega might not seem like the most likely battleground to decide the fate of the world, but that's exactly what this fellow — bearded, with a wreath of wires around his head and a bomb strapped under a translucent rain coat — contends.
He is there, while customers sip coffee and bite into an omelet, to enlist recruits for the resistance. In the future, he says, people have entirely stopped participating in life. ''It all started with morning phone time,'' he says. In the enjoyably oddball, forebodingly bleak and ridiculously plausible ''Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die,'' a ragtag group fights a coming AI apocalypse across a handful of nondescript West Hollywood blocks.
It's been argued that with the onset of AI, storytellers need to get weirder, more imaginative, more human. The Daniels' ''Everything Everywhere All at Once,'' which likewise married cosmic and mundane, was animated partly in this spirit. ''Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die,'' scripted by Matthew Robinson, isn't that creative, and it grows more wayward the deeper it goes into its too-lengthy runtime. But there's a bonkers charm to how Verbinski tackles contemporary anxieties head on.
This is the first film in a decade from Verbinski, the director of ''Pirates of the Caribbean,'' ''Mouse Hunt'' and one of the better animated features of the century, ''Rango.'' But after a few flops (''The Lone Ranger,'' ''A Cure for Wellness'' ), Verbinski cobbled together a more modest budget for this independent production.
The lack of scale is noticeable in the climatic moments of ''Good Luck,'' but Verbinski's penchant for lush detail and movie-reference onslaught remains. Our central figure is a hobo prophet who looks straight out of Terry Gilliam's ''The Fisher King,'' only more tech-enabled. He has a countdown on his watch, and the imminent attack on the diner means time is extremely short.
He's done this before, he says, 117 times, to be precise. His speech is well-rehearsed, but Rockwell's future man more resembles an actor who's been doing the same play for too long. His ''Groundhog Day''-like time loop has drained him of optimism. He's left to desperately and cavalierly keep trying various combinations of recruits in the hope they survive, escape and do something that will prevent the AI apocalypse. It's a remarkably well-suited role for Rockwell, whose stumbling charm lifts ''Good Luck'' nearly as much as Johnny Depp did in ''Pirates of the Caribbean.''
''Good Luck'' never quite matches the electricity of its diner-scene opening, but as a group forms, the movie ropes in other characters whose backstories make for fablelike flashbacks. They play like mini ''Black Mirror'' episodes.