Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Mill’ on Hulu, an Obvious Corporate-Workplace Allegory Elevated by a Strong Lil Rel Howery Performance

The Mill (now streaming on Hulu) features an all-knowing, all-seeing, all-evil corporation with a voice-activated computer “personality,” and now you know why it’s not an Amazon exclusive. Playing a hapless cog in that machine is Lil Rey Howery, who, in case you haven’t noticed, took his scene-stealing debut film role in Get Out and RAN with it; The Mill is one of a whopping seven movie credits he’s racked up in 2023 (note, he had eight in 2021). He eats up 90-odd percent of this high-concept, single-setting workplace satire that grinds away at a thin metaphor but is nevertheless modestly provocative. 

THE MILL: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Joe (Howery) wakes up in the dirt. Barfs. Still wearing a suit and tie. Groomsman party too hard at the reception? Nope. He’s freaking out too much for that. He’s in a roofless concrete bunker with a primitive grist mill in the center. What gives? Let’s start with his employer: Mallard. It’s a megacorp that makes and sells everything from potato chips to life insurance. You can say “Hey Mallard” and a smooth computer voice will respond to commands. Does Mallard offer free shipping on a multitude of items for an annual fee? Does Mallard have a fleet of delivery trucks that drop its products at your doorstep sometimes within hours of ordering them? Did Mallard dump $1 billion into a Lord of the Rings TV series? Dunno, but it sure seems plausible.

There’s a battered vent in one of the walls, and a voice comes out of it – the credits simply call him “neighbor” (Patrick Fischler). The voice says they’re in something called “the hold,” and that “they” dosed poor Joe. Soon enough, the soothing sorta-AI tone of Mallard itself speaks to Joe: He has to work from 6am to 10pm everyday, pushing the mill. His quota is 50 rotations. The facility has multiple “employees” grinding away at mills, and every day, the one with the lowest number of rotations is terminated, and judging by the sounds of tortured screams, the termination is likely very, very permanent. In other words, even if you meet your quota, you might eat shit. But, as Neighbor Guy explains to Joe, do too many and they’ll expect more from you and keep pushing you to do more. This is how Mallard f—s with you. Mercilessly. The company motto is “good enough isn’t good enough.”

So Joe digs in and starts pushing the mill. It’s really tough at first, but once he gets momentum, he can easily accomplish 50 rotations. Notably, all this work accomplishes nothing. Nothing! Round and round, round and round, in the blazing sun. Once a day, a mailslot opens in a door and drops in just enough food and water to keep Joe alive. He gets updates and summaries and “encouragement” from Mallard, while Neighbor Guy feeds him information and admonishment when necessary. We learn in flashbacks that Joe has a pregnant wife (Karen Obilom), and the thought of seeing the birth of his baby son keeps him motivated, even though there seems to be no means of getting out of here. Is this going to end bleak or hopeful? Let’s hope for hope!

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The Mill is going to draw a lot of comparisons to Black Mirror. It also recalls similar high-concept headf—ery like Cube, Escape Room and The Platform.

Performance Worth Watching: Since Howery gets so much screentime, this is pretty much his win by default. But he’s quite good here, locked in with the satirical tone, treading the line between comic exasperation and dramatic, um, exasperation. Is he more than just the guy who can deliver a withering wisecrack? Absolutely (see also: his credible supporting turns in Clouds and Deep Water). 

Memorable Dialogue: Sample maddening Mallard gibberish: “Congratulations, Joe. You’ve surpassed your quota, signifying an auspicious commencement to your journey of self-actualization and professional evolution.” 

Sex and Skin: None. 

Our Take: OK, we get it: Corporate work culture is societal poison. You put your head down and diligently almost-slave away for long hours to service an uncaring, unfeeling entity that’s programmed to be maddeningly passive-aggressive and rakes in the vast majority of the fruits of your labor and – HEY, now we know what all those strikes are about! Minimalist by design, The Mill is as subtle as a cyclone in its criticism of exploitationist practices. Howery’s character is a middle-management drone who’d bought heavily into the Mallard Way before he was rewarded with a great big steaming-hot helping of ironic injustice.  

And that’s the thing with The Mill – it isn’t one for understated suggestion. It’s all there on the screen, the hellish dystopian parable barely a metaphor. And even if we can’t predict precise specifics of what’s about to happen, we fully expect the plot to deliver a ramping-up of the psychological torture tactics, a sliver of hope for escape and at least a diligent stab at a clever twist at the end. Its reveals are only lightly revelatory, and the we-tried-for-years-to-get-pregnant-and-now-I-won’t-be-there emotional hook is rote and simplistic. 

But Howery clearly put some effort into making Joe a character instead of just a pawn of the plot; he finds a way to tread the line between an aw-hell-naw portrait of bewilderment and finding the soul of a man who’s realizing the folly of living to work instead of working to live. His performance is moderately amusing and just as insightful. Director Sean King O’Grady and scripter Jeffrey David Thomas stir up a few darkly comic laughs – Pat Healy stirs up a couple in a small role as a prison guard – and find a way to make the film reasonably dynamic visually without making us feel the grueling repetition their protagonist is suffering. And that’s the sturdy irony the film ultimately hangs its hat on.

Our Call: STREAM IT. The Mill isn’t the mindblowing revelatory allegory it seemingly wants to be, but its core sentiment is sturdy enough to reaffirm any notions we may have about corporate power and control.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.