Let Keanu Reeves Grin More: An Exploration at the Actor's Role in Good Fortune
Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, this whimsical comedy by actor Aziz Ansari, is struggling in theaters. Several factors could explain the film's performance: Its uninspired name fails to express the movie's unique charm. Its screenplay can be moralizing and obvious with its themes. Its performances seem flat and presentational, as if the actors are reciting lines straight from the page. And, the film comes during an era marked by economic uncertainty and disparity, that could make audiences less receptive to a story which implies rich individuals enjoy every advantages while those in need possess heart.
However, here's what Good Fortune excels: It's original, bold, imaginative, frequently funny, and certainly timely. Plus, it provides an unexpectedly enjoyable the actor hangout experience.
Reeves as an Angel: A Familiar Performance
Personally, I've never considered Reeves a good performer. His monotonal delivery and consistent expression of slight concern has consistently seemed one-note, despite the wide variety of roles he's taken on over the past four decades years. Astute directors have cast him in roles in which his stoic nature fits perfectly, from his early work to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. But almost all of these roles called for Reeves to appear hardened, distant, and removed.
Throughout the film, Reeves plays an angel, one minor guardian angel assigned with looking after individuals who use their phones when behind the wheel. His entire job involves remaining in their cars and gently touching their arms when they're close to have an accident, warning them so the driver stop in time. However, while positioned high above his domain, gazing on humanity similar to an alternative version of a celestial figure from the director's classic film Wings of Desire, the character gets ambitious. He desires to become a great guardian and rescuer of wayward souls.
The Surprising Shift: Reeves as a Human
So, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (played by the director), who's residing in a vehicle and cursing his life. The angel then swaps the man into the life of stupidly rich tech mogul Jeff (played by the comedian). This idea of the exercise was that Arj would realize the wealthy man's life comes with significant drawbacks, and gratefully go back to his own circumstances, much like the character in the classic film.
Issue is, the character immediately realizes that the mogul's issues (tedious appointments, expensive pool-heater invoice) prove minor and readily solved with wealth. He also realizes that becoming affluent provides endless opportunities for pleasurable enjoyment. He has no interest in returning to his previous situation, and Gabriel is unable to force him to return. Then, more bad news arrives: Because of overstepping his mandate and disrupting the balance of existence, the character loses his position as an celestial job, and turned to a human being.
The Discovery: The Actor Grins
Personally, I remained never persuaded by the actor playing an angel who has big dreams and a burning desire to make a difference. Reeves turns in a familiar vaguely constipated acting he's been offering for no less than the past three decades. Viewing Reeves in the role of celestial being that has recently turned human for the first time, however, proved to be highly entertaining, for a reason which truly surprised viewers initially: This is something new for Reeves. Or more accurately, an aspect from the past.
Early during his confusing experience being a mortal, clinging to Jeff (whom the angel exchanged into Arj's precarious life and jobless status), the character begins tentatively trying out human activities such as eating and consuming meals. And Reeves grins. Genuinely, cautiously, happily beams. (This is a lot more believable than his smile shown in the promotional image, that appears artificially added.)
Why This Smile Is Significant
It really surprised me to realize just how unexpected and welcome that smile was. At what point did we last we saw the actor smile in a movie in which he wasn't showing ill will, sarcasm, or bitterness? He probably attempts a smile at some point in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, however I'm not going to returning to the mess to find out. Reeves has remained typecast with serious, murderous, broody, or simply solemn characters for such a duration that just seeing Reeves smile seemed like seeing an entirely new actor.
As the story goes on, Gabriel ends up having to get a dishwashing job, a role that fails to provide enough to live on, and he begins chain-smoking out of disappointment. Simply the image of Reeves in a disposable paper food-service cap, with his recent signature long hair pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching against a wall and puffing on a smoke, is worthy of the price of admission. The dishwasher attire totally changes his face and body: Suddenly, the slim, suited physical powerhouse of his famous films is awkward, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly human.
The Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Relax
Good Fortune isn't always enjoyable to watch, especially when the director (that additionally authored the screenplay) must create believable explanations for {Ar