Good Fortune, this fantasy film from comedian the director, is struggling at the box office. Several factors may account for the film's reception: Its generic name doesn't express its film's unique charm. The screenplay can be moralizing and heavy-handed with the messages. Its performances are flat and presentational, like the cast are reciting dialogue straight from a script. Moreover, the film comes at a time of financial uncertainty and disparity, which may render audiences not very open to a story which suggests rich individuals enjoy every advantages while those in need have heart.
However, this is what the movie stands out: The film is original, bold, creative, often funny, and undoubtedly timely. And, it provides a great the actor hangout experience.
I have not considered Reeves a strong actor. His flat delivery and persistent expression of slight perturbation have consistently felt one-note, despite the wide variety of characters he has played over the last 40 years. Astute filmmakers have cast Reeves in roles where that stoic nature fits ideally, including his early work to The Matrix to John Wick. But nearly every one of these characters required him to appear hardened, closed-off, or removed.
In Good Fortune, Reeves plays an angel, a low-level protecting angel assigned with looking after people that text while driving. The character's entire duty involves remaining in their cars and gently touching their arms when they are about to have an accident, alerting them in order that the driver stop in time. But, when positioned high above his domain, gazing upon humanity similar to an alternative interpretation of the angel from the director's classic movie Wings of Desire, Gabriel gets aspirational. He desires to become an exceptional guardian and a savior of lost individuals.
So, Gabriel reveals his presence to struggling handyman a character (played by the director), who's residing out of a vehicle and resenting his situation. Gabriel proceeds to swaps Arj with the existence of extremely rich businessman Jeff (acted by the comedian). The point of the experiment is that the character would realize Jeff's life has major drawbacks, and gratefully return to his own circumstances, similar to a character in the classic film.
Issue is, the character right away discovers that Jeff's issues (tedious meetings, a pricey pool-heater invoice) prove negligible and readily solved using wealth. Arj also sees that becoming affluent provides limitless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. The character has no interest in returning to his previous situation, and the angel can't force him to go back. Then, more trouble arrives: Because of exceeding his mandate and messing with the order of existence, Gabriel is fired as an celestial job, and transformed to a mortal.
I was never convinced by the actor as an angel with grand dreams and an intense desire to make a difference. He delivers the same vaguely constipated acting he has consistently offering for at least the past 3 decades. Viewing him in the role of celestial being who's recently become human initially, on the other hand, proved to be a blast, due to something that truly astonished viewers at first: It's something new for Reeves. Or perhaps more accurately, an aspect old.
Early into the character's confusing career as a human, clinging to the wealthy character (who the angel exchanged into Arj's hand-to-mouth life and underemployed status), Gabriel starts hesitantly experimenting with human experiences like chewing and consuming food. Then the actor smiles. Genuinely, cautiously, happily smiles. (This is far more convincing than the grin on the poster, that looks digitally altered.)
It truly surprised me to recognize how unexpected and welcome the smile was. At what point was the last time audiences observed Keanu Reeves grin in a film in which he wasn't showing ill will, irony, or resentment? He probably tries it somewhere in 2020's ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I'm not revisiting that mess to find out. Reeves has been typecast with serious, violent, introspective, or just serious roles for such a duration that merely seeing Reeves grin seemed like seeing an entirely different performer.
As the plot goes on, the character finds himself needing to take a kitchen position, which fails to provide sufficient to live on, and he begins smoking heavily due to disappointment. Simply the image of the actor in a disposable paper restaurant cap, with his late-career signature long hair tied in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching on a wall and puffing on a cigarette, is worthy of the price of admission. The kitchen worker getup totally changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the slim, suited physical powerhouse of his famous films becomes gawky, ordinary, and a lot more relatable.
The film isn't consistently fun to watch, especially when Ansari (who additionally wrote the screenplay) has to create plausible explanations for {Ar
Elara is a passionate writer and photographer who shares insights on creativity and mindful living through engaging storytelling.
