Let Keanu Reeves Grin More: An Exploration at His Role in the New Film
Good Fortune, the fantasy film from comedian the director, has been struggling in theaters. Many factors may explain its reception: Its uninspired name doesn't express its movie's unique appeal. Its script is often moralizing and obvious regarding the messages. Its acting seem flat and staged, as if the actors were reciting lines straight from the page. Moreover, it arrives at a time of financial anxiety and inequality, which could render viewers less receptive to a story which suggests wealthy individuals enjoy every advantages while the poor have spirit.
However, this is what the movie stands out: The film is original, bold, creative, often funny, and certainly relevant. And, it provides an unexpectedly enjoyable the actor hangout movie.
Keanu Reeves as an Angel: His Typical Performance
Personally, I've never considered Reeves to be a good actor. His flat speaking style and persistent expression of mild perturbation have always felt limited, despite the wide range of roles he has taken on during the last 40 years. Smart directors have cast him in parts in which his rigidity fits ideally, including his early work to The Matrix to the action series. Yet almost all of those characters called for Reeves to seem hardened, distant, and removed.
In Good Fortune, Reeves portrays Gabriel, a minor protecting angel tasked with watching over individuals who text while driving. His whole duty involves sitting in his cars and gently touching their arms when they're close to have an accident, alerting the person so they stop before impact. But, while positioned high above his domain, looking down upon humanity like an alternative version of the angel from the director's renowned film the angel story, the character gets aspirational. Gabriel desires to become an exceptional guardian and rescuer of wayward individuals.
The Unexpected Shift: Reeves Playing a Mortal
Therefore, Gabriel presents himself to down-and-out odd-jobber Arj (portrayed by Aziz Ansari), who's living in his car and resenting his situation. The angel proceeds to exchanges Arj with the life of extremely rich tech mogul Jeff (acted by the comedian). This idea behind the exercise was for the character would understand Jeff's existence has major downsides, and thankfully return to his original life, much like a character in the classic film.
Issue was, the character immediately discovers that the mogul's problems (tedious meetings, expensive pool-heater invoice) prove negligible and easily solved using money. He further sees that becoming rich provides limitless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. The character has no desire in returning to his previous life, and Gabriel is unable to compel him to return. Subsequently, more bad news comes: Because of overstepping his mandate and messing with the order of existence, Gabriel is fired as an angel role, and turned into a human being.
A Revelation: The Actor Smiles
I was not convinced by Reeves as an celestial being with grand aspirations and an intense wish to effect change. Reeves turns in a familiar somewhat stiff acting he has been providing for at least the past 3 ten-year periods. Watching Reeves as an angel who's recently turned human for the first time, however, proved to be highly entertaining, for a reason that really surprised me at first: This is something different for the actor. Or more accurately, something old.
Early during the character's baffling experience being a mortal, staying with the wealthy character (whom Gabriel exchanged with the handyman's hand-to-mouth life and jobless status), Gabriel begins tentatively trying out human activities like eating and swallowing food. Then Reeves grins. Authentically, cautiously, joyously beams. (This is a lot much believable than his smile on the promotional image, which looks artificially added.)
Why This Smile Matters
It truly surprised me to realize just how surprising and welcome the smile was. At what point did we last audiences observed the actor smile in a movie in which he was not expressing malice, sarcasm, or bitterness? He probably attempts it somewhere in the recent misbegotten the sequel, however I am not revisiting the disappointment to find out. Reeves has remained stuck with grim, murderous, broody, or simply solemn characters for such a duration that merely seeing Reeves smile seemed like seeing an entirely new actor.
As the plot progresses, the character ends up having to take a kitchen position, which fails to provide sufficient for survival, and Gabriel begins chain-smoking due to frustration. Simply the image of the actor in a cheap paper food-service cap, his late-career trademark long hair pulled back in a plain bun, slouching against a wall and smoking a smoke, is worthy of the price of admission. The kitchen worker getup completely alters his face and body: Suddenly, the lean, suited physical powerhouse of his famous movies becomes awkward, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly human.
The Pleasure of Watching Reeves Loosen Up
Good Fortune is not always fun to view, particularly when Ansari (who additionally wrote the screenplay) must create believable reasons for {Ar