What a load of digital hogwash, ‘American Sweatshop’ tries to pass itself off as some deep dive into the grim realities of the digital age, but it’s more like a slideshow of shock videos with a side of existential ennui. Director Ute Briesewitz must be channelling the spirit of that great film ‘Office Space’ but for a virtual realm, where even the coffee machine is just a pixelated projection. Lili Reinhart, though, plays the part of the overwrought content moderator like she’s in a daydream, barely connecting with the screen that’s supposed to be haunting her soul. The film seems to think it’s edgy by spiraling into some supposed thriller territory, but it’s just a whirlwind of clichés that leaves you more exhausted than any all-night scroll session. This is like a ‘Red Rooms’ that forgot the ‘Red Rooms’ part and just hung out in a generic thriller limbo.