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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the fantasy film from comedian the director, is struggling in theaters. Several factors could explain its reception: Its uninspired title fails to express its movie's unique appeal. Its screenplay is often preachy and obvious with its themes. The acting seem flat and presentational, as if the cast were reading lines straight from the page. Moreover, the film comes at a time marked by financial anxiety and disparity, that may make audiences not very receptive to a narrative which suggests wealthy individuals enjoy every benefits while those in need have heart.

However, this is what Good Fortune stands out: It's original, bold, creative, frequently humorous, and certainly relevant. Plus, it provides a great Keanu Reeves character-driven movie.

Reeves as an Guardian: A Familiar Performance

Personally, I've never regarded Reeves a good actor. His monotonal delivery and persistent look of mild perturbation has always seemed limited, despite his wide range of characters he has played during the past four decades years. Astute directors have placed him in roles where that stoic nature works ideally, from his early work to The Matrix to the action series. But almost every one of those characters required him to appear tough, distant, and detached.

In the film, Reeves plays an angel, one low-level protecting angel tasked with watching over people that use their phones when behind the wheel. The character's whole duty involves remaining in his cars and lightly making contact with the drivers' arms as they are about to have an accident, alerting them so they stop before impact. But, when positioned overlooking his domain, gazing on the mortal world like an alternative interpretation of the angel in Wim Wenders' classic movie the angel story, Gabriel gets aspirational. Gabriel desires to be an exceptional protector and rescuer of lost individuals.

A Unexpected Shift: Keanu Playing a Mortal

So, Gabriel presents himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (played by Aziz Ansari), who's living out of a vehicle and resenting his situation. Gabriel then exchanges the man into the life of extremely wealthy tech mogul Jeff (acted by the comedian). The point behind the experiment was that the character would understand Jeff's existence has major drawbacks, and thankfully return to his own life, much like the character from It's a Wonderful Life.

Problem is, Arj right away realizes that Jeff's issues (boring meetings, a pricey heating bill) are negligible and readily resolved using wealth. He also sees how becoming affluent opens up endless chances for pleasurable enjoyment. The character has zero interest in returning to his previous life, and Gabriel is unable to compel Arj to go back. Subsequently, more bad news comes: Because of exceeding his duties and disrupting the balance of the world, the character is fired from his celestial role, and transformed to a human being.

A Revelation: The Actor Smiles

Personally, I remained never persuaded by Reeves as an celestial being with big dreams and an intense desire to effect change. Reeves turns in a familiar somewhat stiff acting he's consistently providing for at least the past 3 ten-year periods. Viewing him as an celestial being who's just become mortal initially, on the other hand, was a blast, due to something that truly astonished me at first: This is an element new for Reeves. Or perhaps to be precise, an aspect old.

Soon during his confusing experience being a mortal, staying with the wealthy character (whom Gabriel exchanged into the handyman's precarious life and jobless status), Gabriel begins tentatively experimenting with human activities like eating and consuming food. Then the actor smiles. Authentically, hesitantly, joyously beams. (This is far much convincing than the grin on the poster, that looks digitally altered.)

The Reason That Smile Matters

The moment truly took me aback to recognize just how unexpected and refreshing that expression felt. When did we last we observed Keanu Reeves grin in a film in which he was not expressing malice, irony, or resentment? The actor likely attempts it at some point in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, however I'm not going to returning to the mess to confirm. The actor has remained stuck with serious, murderous, introspective, or just solemn roles for so long that merely seeing Reeves smile seemed like seeing an entirely different performer.

While the plot progresses, Gabriel finds himself needing to get a dishwashing job, a role that doesn't pay enough to live on, and he starts chain-smoking due to frustration. Just the sight of the actor in a cheap plastic restaurant cap, with his late-career trademark long hair pulled back in a plain bun, leaning against a wall and puffing on a smoke, proves worthy of the price of admission. His dishwasher attire completely alters his appearance and body: Unexpectedly, the slim, well-dressed physical powerhouse of the John Wick films is awkward, unglamorous, and much increasingly relatable.

A Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Loosen Up

Good Fortune isn't consistently enjoyable to view, particularly when the director (who also wrote the script) must create plausible explanations for {Ar