Let the actor Smile More Often: A Look at His Performance in the New Film
Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, this whimsical comedy by actor the director, has been facing challenges at the box office. Many reasons may account for the film's reception: The uninspired name fails to convey its film's unique appeal. Its screenplay is often preachy and obvious regarding its themes. The performances seem flat and staged, as if the actors were reciting lines directly from the page. Moreover, the film comes at a time of economic anxiety and disparity, that may render viewers not very receptive to a story that implies rich people have every benefits while the poor have heart.
But, this is what Good Fortune excels: It's original, bold, imaginative, often humorous, and undoubtedly timely. And, it provides an unexpectedly enjoyable Keanu Reeves character-driven movie.
Reeves as an Guardian: His Typical Performance
I have not regarded Reeves a good performer. His flat delivery and persistent expression of mild perturbation has consistently seemed one-note, regardless of the wide range of characters he's played over the last 40 years. Smart directors have often cast him in parts in which that stoic nature fits ideally, including his early work to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. Yet nearly all of those roles called for Reeves to seem tough, closed-off, or removed.
Throughout Good Fortune, the actor plays an angel, a low-level guardian celestial being assigned with looking after people who text while behind the wheel. His entire job is sitting in their cars and lightly touching the drivers' shoulders when they're about to have an accident, warning the person in order that they brake before impact. However, when standing high above the city, gazing on humanity like a version of a celestial figure in Wim Wenders' renowned film Wings of Desire, the character gets ambitious. He desires to become a great guardian and rescuer of lost individuals.
The Unexpected Shift: Keanu as a Mortal
Therefore, Gabriel reveals his presence to struggling handyman Arj (played by the director), who is living in a vehicle and cursing his situation. The angel proceeds to swaps Arj into the life of extremely wealthy tech mogul Jeff (acted by Seth Rogen). This idea of the exercise is for the character would understand Jeff's existence comes with significant downsides, and gratefully go back to his own life, much like the character in It's a Wonderful Life.
Problem was, Arj right away realizes how the mogul's issues (boring meetings, expensive pool-heater bill) are minor and readily resolved using wealth. He further sees that becoming affluent opens up limitless chances for pleasurable enjoyment. The character shows zero desire in returning to his own life, and the angel can't compel him to return. Then, more bad news comes: Because of exceeding his duties and messing with the order of the world, Gabriel loses his position as an angel role, and turned to a mortal.
A Revelation: The Actor Smiles
I was not persuaded by Reeves playing an angel with big aspirations and a burning desire to make a difference. He turns in the same vaguely constipated acting he's been offering for at least the last 3 decades. Watching Reeves as an angel that has just become human for the first time, however, was a blast, due to something that truly astonished me initially: It's an element new for Reeves. Or perhaps more accurately, something from the past.
Soon during the character's baffling career being a human, clinging to Jeff (who the angel had swapped with Arj's precarious life and underemployed situation), Gabriel begins tentatively trying out everyday experiences such as eating and consuming food. Then the actor smiles. Authentically, hesitantly, joyously beams. (It's far more believable than the smile on the promotional image, that appears digitally altered.)
Why That Grin Matters
It really surprised me to realize how unexpected and welcome the expression was. At what point was the last time audiences saw Keanu Reeves smile in a movie in which he was not showing ill will, sarcasm, or bitterness? He probably tries a smile at some point in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, however I am not revisiting the mess to find out. The actor has remained typecast with serious, violent, broody, or simply serious characters for such a duration that just watching Reeves smile felt like observing a completely new performer.
As the plot goes on, the character finds himself having to take a dishwashing job, a role that doesn't pay sufficient to live on, and he begins smoking heavily due to disappointment. Just the sight of the actor in a disposable paper restaurant hat, his recent trademark locks tied in an unglamorous bun, leaning on a building and puffing on a cigarette, is worthy of the price of admission. His kitchen worker getup completely changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the slim, suited action star of his famous films becomes awkward, unglamorous, and a lot more human.
The Joy of Viewing Reeves Loosen Up
The film isn't always fun to view, especially when the director (that also wrote the script) has to create believable explanations for {Ar
