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Good Fortune, this fantasy comedy by actor the director, is struggling at the box office. Several reasons could account for its performance: The uninspired name fails to convey its movie's distinctive appeal. Its script can be moralizing and obvious with the themes. The acting are flat and presentational, like the actors are reading dialogue straight from the page. Moreover, it arrives at a time marked by economic anxiety and inequality, that may render viewers not very receptive to a narrative that implies rich individuals enjoy every advantages while those in need possess spirit.

However, here's what the movie excels: It's original, daring, creative, frequently humorous, and certainly timely. Plus, it offers an unexpectedly enjoyable the actor character-driven experience.

Keanu Reeves as an Angel: A Familiar Portrayal

I have not considered Reeves to be a strong actor. His flat delivery and consistent look of mild concern have always felt one-note, despite his wide variety of characters he's taken on over the last four decades of his career. Smart filmmakers have often placed Reeves in parts where his rigidity fits ideally, including his early work to The Matrix to John Wick. But nearly all of these characters called for Reeves to seem hardened, closed-off, or detached.

In Good Fortune, the actor portrays Gabriel, a low-level protecting angel assigned with looking after people who text when behind the wheel. His whole job involves sitting in their vehicles and gently touching their arms as they're about to crash, alerting them in order that the driver stop before impact. But, when standing high above his domain, gazing on humanity like a interpretation of a celestial figure from Wim Wenders' classic film Wings of Desire, Gabriel becomes ambitious. He desires to become a great guardian and a savior of lost individuals.

A Unexpected Turn: Keanu as a Mortal

Therefore, he presents himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (played by Aziz Ansari), who is living out of a vehicle and resenting his situation. Gabriel then exchanges Arj into the existence of stupidly wealthy tech mogul a character (acted by Seth Rogen). The point of the experiment is that Arj to understand the wealthy man's existence comes with major downsides, and thankfully go back to his original circumstances, similar to the figure in the classic film.

Issue was, the character immediately realizes how the mogul's problems (tedious appointments, expensive heating invoice) prove minor and easily solved with wealth. Arj further realizes how being affluent provides limitless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. The character shows no interest in going back to his own life, and the angel is unable to force him to return. Subsequently, additional bad news arrives: For overstepping his duties and messing with the balance of the world, the character is fired as an angel role, and turned to a human being.

The Revelation: Keanu Reeves Grins

Personally, I remained not persuaded by Reeves playing an celestial being with big aspirations and a burning desire to effect change. He delivers the same vaguely stiff acting he's consistently offering for at least the past 3 ten-year periods. Viewing him in the role of angel who's recently become human initially, however, was a blast, for a reason that really astonished me at first: This is an element different for Reeves. Or perhaps to be precise, something from the past.

Soon into his confusing experience as a human, staying with Jeff (whom the angel had swapped into Arj's hand-to-mouth life and underemployed status), the character starts hesitantly trying out everyday experiences like chewing and consuming meals. And Reeves smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, happily smiles. (It's far much convincing than his smile on the promotional image, which appears digitally altered.)

Why This Grin Matters

The moment truly took me aback to realize just how unexpected and welcome the expression was. At what point did we last we observed the actor smile in a movie where he wasn't expressing ill will, sarcasm, or bitterness? The actor probably tries it at some point in the recent ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, however I'm not revisiting the mess to find out. The actor has been stuck with grim, murderous, broody, or simply solemn characters for so long that merely watching him grin seemed like observing an entirely new performer.

As the plot goes on, the character ends up needing to take a kitchen job, which doesn't pay sufficient for survival, and he starts smoking heavily out of frustration. Just the sight of the actor in a disposable plastic restaurant cap, his recent signature locks tied in a plain ponytail, leaning on a building and puffing on a cigarette, proves worthy of the price of admission. The kitchen worker getup totally alters his face and body: Unexpectedly, the slim, suited action star of the John Wick films becomes awkward, ordinary, and much more relatable.

The Pleasure of Viewing Keanu Loosen Up

The film isn't always enjoyable to view, particularly when the director (that additionally authored the script) has to create believable reasons for {Ar