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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the fantasy comedy by comedian the director, has been struggling in theaters. Many reasons could account for its reception: The generic name doesn't express the movie's distinctive charm. The screenplay is often moralizing and heavy-handed with the themes. The performances seem uninspired and presentational, as if the actors are reading lines straight from a script. Moreover, it arrives at a time of economic anxiety and disparity, which could make viewers less receptive to a narrative which implies wealthy people enjoy all the benefits while those in need have spirit.

However, this is what Good Fortune stands out: It's unique, daring, imaginative, frequently funny, and certainly timely. Plus, it provides an unexpectedly great Keanu Reeves character-driven movie.

Reeves as an Guardian: A Familiar Performance

I have never considered Keanu Reeves a good performer. His monotonal speaking style and consistent look of slight perturbation has always felt limited, regardless of his broad variety of characters he's taken on during the past 40 years. Astute directors have cast him in roles where his rigidity fits perfectly, from My Own Private Idaho to the sci-fi classic to the action series. But nearly all of those roles called for Reeves to seem hardened, closed-off, or detached.

In the film, Reeves portrays an angel, one low-level protecting angel assigned with looking after people who use their phones while driving. The character's whole duty is remaining in his vehicles and lightly making contact with their shoulders when they are close to have an accident, alerting them in order that the driver brake in time. However, when positioned overlooking his domain, looking down on humanity like an alternative version of the angel in Wim Wenders' renowned film the angel story, the character gets ambitious. He wants to become a great guardian and rescuer of lost individuals.

The Unexpected Shift: Reeves as a Mortal

Therefore, he presents himself to down-and-out handyman a character (portrayed by Aziz Ansari), who is living out of a vehicle and resenting his life. Gabriel then swaps the man into the existence of extremely wealthy tech mogul Jeff (acted by Seth Rogen). This idea of the exercise is for Arj to realize the wealthy man's life has major drawbacks, and gratefully go back to his own circumstances, much like a character from the classic film.

Issue was, Arj right away realizes that Jeff's issues (tedious meetings, a pricey pool-heater bill) prove negligible and easily solved with wealth. Arj further realizes that becoming rich opens up limitless chances for self-indulgent enjoyment. He has no desire in going back to his own situation, and the angel is unable to force him to go back. Then, more trouble arrives: Because of exceeding his mandate and disrupting the order of the world, Gabriel loses his position from his celestial job, and transformed to a mortal.

The Discovery: The Actor Smiles

Personally, I remained not convinced by the actor as an angel with grand aspirations and an intense desire to effect change. He delivers a familiar somewhat constipated performance he has consistently offering for at least the past 3 decades. Viewing Reeves as an angel who's just turned mortal for the first time, however, proved to be highly entertaining, for a reason that truly astonished viewers at first: It's something different for the actor. Or more accurately, something old.

Soon into his confusing experience as a mortal, clinging to the wealthy character (whom the angel had swapped with the handyman's precarious existence and underemployed status), Gabriel begins hesitantly experimenting with everyday activities like eating and consuming meals. And Reeves smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously beams. (It's a lot more believable than his grin on the poster, which appears digitally altered.)

Why This Grin Matters

It truly took me aback to recognize just how unexpected and welcome that expression was. At what point was the last time audiences observed the actor grin in a movie in which he was not showing malice, sarcasm, or resentment? The actor probably tries it somewhere in 2020's ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, however I'm not revisiting that mess to find out. Reeves has remained stuck with grim, violent, introspective, or simply serious roles for such a duration that merely seeing Reeves grin seemed like observing an entirely different actor.

As the plot progresses, the character finds himself having to take a dishwashing position, a role that doesn't pay sufficient to live on, and Gabriel starts smoking heavily out of frustration. Just the image of Reeves in a cheap paper food-service cap, his late-career signature locks pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching on a wall and puffing on a cigarette, proves worthy of watching. His kitchen worker getup completely changes his face and posture: Suddenly, the lean, suited physical powerhouse of the John Wick movies is gawky, ordinary, and much increasingly human.

A Joy of Viewing Keanu Loosen Up

The film isn't always enjoyable to watch, especially when Ansari (who additionally wrote the screenplay) must create believable explanations for {Ar