“A Clockwork Orange” portrays Alex and his fellow thugs breaking into a wealthy writer's home and assaulting his wife, which would be appalling enough if he wasn't singing “Singin’ in the Rain” at the same time. Half a century later, the scene still seems equally disturbing, given how Stanley Kubrick made such extreme violence appear enjoyable for the deranged kids perpetrating it. Could there be anything more nihilistic than that?

Middle-aged bad boy Harmony Korine certainly thinks so. The latest stunt from his taboo-razing EDGLRD studio, “ Baby Invasion ” blurs the lines between real life and a gnarly video game, so much so that it’s hard to tell what we’re watching for most of the trippy project’s 79-minute running time.

First-person footage of Florida mansions ransacked by screen-addicted misfits? Disturbing face-swap technology transforming armed vandals into baby-faced demons? AI-generated cameos from an elusive digital rabbit? And impromptu dance breaks? It’s all here, woven together in a daringly experimental exploration of the impact of technology on our minds — and its potential to revolutionize cinema.

Certain to alienate most audiences, especially those who experienced its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival , “Baby Invasion” audaciously (and often incoherently) combines ideas from the last decade and a half of Korine’s career, drawing inspiration from “Spring Breakers” (with its excessive crime sprees) and his radically unclassifiable “Trash Humpers.” That project, featuring unsettling footage of Korine’s collaborators engaging in mischievous acts while wearing rubber old-man masks, was intended to feel like a discovered artifact, as if a crude skate video-cum-snuff film had inexplicably gone public.

“Baby Invasion” aspires to a similarly ominous underground atmosphere, but proves even more perplexing to decipher, as Korine wouldn’t dare attach anything as conventional as a message to this enigmatic puzzle, other than the misleading statement:

THIS IS NOT A MOVIE.
THIS IS A GAME.
THIS IS REAL LIFE.
THERE IS ONLY THE PRESENT, THE UNENDING NOW.

So what are we witnessing exactly? “Baby Invasion” presents itself as subjective footage from an illegal game — one in which delinquents team up and break into wealthy individuals’ mansions, concealing their identities behind AI-generated baby-face masks — that was leaked onto the Dark Web, where it “took on a life of its own.” What this means is intentionally unclear, as Spanish-speaking game developers in VR headsets help to weave its backstory. Where certainty is lacking, mythology takes its place.

Like the chilling VHS tape in the classic J-horror film “Ringu,” “Baby Invasion” leaves you questioning reality. The implication is that either susceptible players have begun to perceive life as a game (earning rewards for mundane achievements) or some malevolent entity has manipulated the technology to control people and instigate such crimes in the real world. This interpretation holds true if we consider the home invasions as genuine acts of violence — a more intense version of “Straw Dogs.” On the other hand, it's equally plausible that everything we're witnessing is virtual, a mere fabrication like the film itself, in which case, “Baby Invasion” loses its edge.

Similar to last year's “Aggro Dr1ft,” which attempted to transplant the logic and visual aesthetics of video games onto the cinematic canvas, “Baby Invasion” represents a daring endeavor to jolt a medium that seems to have grown monotonous for Korine since he began experimenting with it as a teenager. Throughout this period, his approach has been remarkably consistent, dating back to “Kids” (which he wrote) and “Gummo” (which he directed). He's like one of those mischievous imps seen tossing scorpions on the anthill at the beginning of “The Wild Bunch,” where provocation appears to be the primary objective.

While other filmmakers have almost universally embraced photorealistic, time-consuming digital effects, Korine opted for high-speed graphics cards and real-time rendering technology, distorting the footage as it was being captured. In both “Baby Invasion” and “Aggro Dr1ft,” the effect is alternately distancing and uniquely immersive — a trick that would almost certainly have blown Brecht's mind — as Korine channels the language of gaming.

For much of “Baby Invasion,” we are presented with either the subjective viewpoint of a character known only as “Yellow” (a familiar perspective for first-person-shooter enthusiasts, disorienting for others) or detached surveillance footage of the actual crime scenes (some staged, the rest captured from on-site security cameras), with pop-up screens and other animated graphics crowding the screen. The missions unfold with color-coded characters meeting up, selecting their weaponry, and then heading towards their target, which in this case is a lengthy, tedious van ride away.

When the players appear on-screen, a green square hovers over their heads, and the real-time gaming engine overlays a CG baby onto their faces. Occasionally, glitches occur, spawning additional baby heads in random locations; at other times, it flickers, revealing the players' real faces for a fleeting moment. Regardless, the effect isn't as subversive as it seems. No one would misinterpret what they're witnessing as genuine baby behavior, and no infants were harmed (or even involved) in the process. Conceptually, the technology is intended to deceive the surveillance cameras. But how could it possibly work? It merely conceals their identities from the other users watching the Twitch-like livestream, whose witty comments constantly scroll across the right side of the screen.

While nothing more than a gimmick, the baby angle provides Korine with a hook for an experiment that is only intermittently engaging for much of its runtime. To compound the issue, Yellow appears ambivalent, more of a passive observer than an active participant, stepping out to use the restroom and straying from the action to pursue side quests. In one such digression, he ventures into the backyard to blast 8-bit kaiju. In another, he participates in a rainbow-skinned bike race through the gardens. If that sounds less than captivating, you're right.

Still, Korine maintains a nervous tension throughout, as we are never sure what he has in store for us. The director's fast-paced editing style doesn't jump around as much as it did in earlier films, resulting in some scenes lingering longer than necessary. However, the underlying horror is clear: Yellow and the other participants are finding pleasure in completely inappropriate behavior, normalized by new technology.

Similar to “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer,” it's disturbing in part because there are no authorities and no consequences. “Baby Invasion” isn't nearly as unsettling, however, as the violence is more suggested than explicitly shown. With the exception of two men seen with their throats slashed, the victims are seen at a distant, abstract level. As Yellow moves through the houses, the worst has already been done, and the corpses' heads have been covered in white sheets — a case where restraint undermines the shock value.

Throughout it all, a low, vaguely Satanic score hums in the background, while a woman's voice narrates about a creature, a demon and a rabbit. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed the music had been generated by AI as well, though it's credited to electronic musician Burial, just one of the adventurous collaborators willing to join Korine on this wild ride (one that seems far more captivating to create than it is to experience). At one point, between missions, the camera glides through Edgefort headquarters, traversing the CG hallways until it encounters a bank of monitors displaying another home-invasion operation to play.

To quote Queen, “Is this the real world? Is this just fantasy?” And who are these mysterious Duck Mobb? Are they another alias for Korine, or are they the skull-masked masterminds who appear at times? The issue with Korine's ambiguous approach — which makes it impossible to differentiate between scripted chaos and computer-generated additions — comes in deciding how and where to invest our energy in attempting to interpret. Meaning may be elusive, if not entirely absent, but there's plenty to provoke us along the way.