Can Brick Solve My Screen Time Problem?

I tried the app-blocking device that promises to turn your smartphone into something simpler and less engrossing

By Courtney Lindwall
Home & Tech Writer

December 31, 2025

Brick app with illustrated background — The NFC-enabled Brick device allows you to block time-wasters while keeping the phone functionality you need.

Along the bell curve of self-control, I sit somewhere in that far left quadrant. When attempting to change my own behavior, I’m a notoriously lenient boss, always willing to cut myself a little slack. This hasn’t been good for my screen time.

I routinely rack up more than 4 hours per day on my phone. (Given that I cover tech, we’ll write at least a fraction of that off as work-related.) With all that time, I imagine I could’ve done something pretty impressive, like read through the canon of classics or learn to play an instrument. Instead, I’ve watched quite a large number of moderately funny videos. Clearly, things need to change.

Enter: Brick—a gray plastic square that fits in your palm and promises to transform your smartphone into something less riveting.

By tapping your phone to the Brick, which uses near field communication, or NFC, the device blocks your phone from accessing a list of time-sucking apps, while still giving you access to the ones you truly need. So you can choose to ditch Instagram, news apps, and phone games while keeping GPS, texting, and two-factor authentication for your work email. To “unbrick” your phone, you simply tap it again on the gray square.

I bought a Brick a few months ago on a whim. It’s somewhat pricey ($59 to essentially put myself on phone timeout), but I found the premise compelling: a physical device that can simplify my smartphone and, because I can put actual distance between myself and the Brick, is harder to bypass than the app limits in my phone’s settings. I hadn’t used the Brick much after initially buying it, but with my screen time still on the rise—and the hopefulness of my New Year’s resolutions on the horizon—I figured it was worth another try.

To prepare for my trial run, I set up the device using the Brick app on my phone. The Brick allows you to create up to 10 different focus modes, each with its own curated list of accepted and banished apps. I made one strict, allowing only the most crucial apps from my library, and another more lenient, blocking only the worst offenders.

The setup process is a little tedious. For whatever reason, the Brick app crashed a couple of times midway through it, forcing me to start over. And more than once, I realized I’d forgotten to permit some infrequently used but essential tool—like a ride-sharing or banking app—and I’d have to unbrick my device to edit the settings again. (If you decide to block only a few apps, this process is faster.)

But once everything was set up correctly, I was good to go. Thanks to the Brick’s handy magnetic backing, I stuck the square to my fridge, which felt safely removed from my typical scrolling spot on the couch, tapped my phone to the device, and set off to enjoy my day, IRL.

2 screens of the Brick App — The Brick helps you select the apps you're allowed to use in up to 10 custom focus modes.

I was feeling optimistic, as we all do for the first 30 minutes of brightly beginning a new habit.

I placed my phone, now rendered less tempting, display side down on my coffee table and picked up the book I needed to finish for book club. I folded the laundry I’d been avoiding. Later that day, I left the house to run some errands with my phone Bricked. While I typically scroll during transitional moments—riding the train or waiting in line—I managed to pass the time quietly, people-watching. With the offending apps silenced, it became clear how much I’d allowed my phone to occupy my free moments, like water filling every crevice of my day.

Don’t worry: If you suddenly need access to a blocked app while away from the Brick device, there’s an “Emergency Unbrick” option in the app settings that you are permitted to use five times. In a pinch, you can also delete the app, so long as you didn’t toggle on “Strict Mode.”

I resisted those options. However, in less than a day, the familiar itch returned.

I found myself routinely picking up and puttering around on my phone, even though there was less to do on it. I opened banal apps, scrolling through weather updates or the images in my photo library as a stand-in for my preferred vices. The swiping and tapping somehow seemed palliative on their own, regardless of the content.

I confess that, as the days went on, I also unbricked my phone more than a few times, each for an ostensibly valid reason. I’d forgotten to green-light the Brooklyn Public Library app, and I needed to see if a book I’d put on hold was available for pickup. I wanted to share a saved TikTok video of a new restaurant to try. And then I came down with a cold and felt self-pitying and bored. Surely I deserved a little scrolling?

Once I was off the wagon—phone unbricked and self-restraint thrown to the wind—I scrolled more voraciously than ever. One evening, I went down an algorithmically charged rabbit hole, watching video after video on TikTok of women showing off their vintage, handmade Christmas decorations. Another day, I racked up nearly an hour on #crochettok, while my own in-progress scarf sat, neglected, in the corner.

Surely doing those actual things—making Christmas decorations, crocheting—is more enjoyable than watching other people do them on my little screen?

But this is the smartphone paradox: Consuming content somehow feels more pleasurable—frictionless, immediately gratifying, endlessly novel—even though engaging in the offline activity is clearly more creative, fulfilling, and worthwhile. I suppose that’s because the real-life activity is often more challenging and slow-going, forcing me to exist in brief states of discomfort that my phone-addled brain will no longer tolerate.

I’m clearly not alone. The Brick is just one of a growing number of tools designed to save us from our desire for endless distraction on our devices. This includes popular apps like Opal and Freedom that temporarily block apps and websites, as well as literal lockboxes where you stash your phone away, like a dog restrained from accessing its treats.

We’re all clearly in too deep.

Ultimately, the Brick did help me. When using the device more intentionally, I was able to shave a meaningful amount of screen time from my totals. Some days, I logged less than 3 hours, which was encouraging. On others, however, I still ran the clock above 5.

The device clearly didn’t solve my problem outright, though I’ve seen other online reviewers report that it transformed their relationship with their phone. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Maybe some part of me hoped that my Bricked phone would simply become unappealing, the way I always hope processed food will begin to taste like cardboard while I’m trying to eat healthier. Alas, that’s yet to be the case.

I now see more clearly that reducing screen time requires vigilance and an active desire to improve, which is a far more ambitious and inward-looking project. (I don’t beat myself up too much over it: I know that our phones and apps are designed to keep us scrolling.) Perhaps moving to a true dumb phone or permanently deleting social media is what’s needed to kick my habit.

But for now, stopgap solutions will have to do—and frankly, Brick is one of the better ones I’ve seen. I plan to keep Bricking my phone regularly in hopes of slowly but surely chipping away at my screen time. The price of the Brick is a bit steep, but the more human cost of time frittered away on my phone seems steeper.

Courtney Lindwall

Courtney Lindwall is a writer at Consumer Reports. Since joining CR in 2023, she’s covered the latest on cell phones, smartwatches, and fitness trackers as part of the tech team. Previously, Courtney reported on environmental and climate issues for the Natural Resources Defense Council. She lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.