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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the fantasy film by actor the director, has been facing challenges at the box office. Many factors could account for the film's performance: The generic title fails to convey its movie's unique charm. The screenplay is often preachy and heavy-handed with the messages. Its acting are uninspired and staged, as if the actors were reading dialogue straight from a script. And, the film comes at a time of financial anxiety and inequality, that could make viewers less receptive to a story which implies wealthy people have every advantages while the poor possess spirit.

But, here's what Good Fortune stands out: It's original, bold, imaginative, often humorous, and certainly timely. Plus, it offers an unexpectedly great Keanu Reeves character-driven experience.

Keanu Reeves in the role of Guardian: A Familiar Performance

I have never regarded Keanu Reeves to be a good performer. His monotonal speaking style and consistent expression of slight perturbation has consistently seemed limited, despite the wide variety of roles he has played over the last 40 years. Smart filmmakers have cast Reeves in parts in which his stoic nature works perfectly, including his early work to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. Yet nearly every one of these characters called for him to appear tough, closed-off, or detached.

Throughout Good Fortune, Reeves plays Gabriel, one low-level guardian angel tasked with watching over individuals that text when driving. His whole duty involves sitting in his cars and gently touching the drivers' arms when they are about to crash, alerting them in order that the driver brake before impact. However, while standing high above the city, gazing on humanity similar to a interpretation of a celestial figure from the director's classic film Wings of Desire, the character gets aspirational. Gabriel desires to become an exceptional protector and rescuer of wayward individuals.

The Unexpected Shift: Keanu Playing a Human

Therefore, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling handyman a character (played by the director), who is living in his car and resenting his situation. The angel proceeds to swaps the man into the life of extremely rich tech mogul Jeff (played by Seth Rogen). This idea behind the exercise is that Arj would understand the wealthy man's existence comes with major drawbacks, and gratefully go back to his own circumstances, similar to a figure from It's a Wonderful Life.

Issue is, Arj immediately realizes how the mogul's issues (tedious meetings, expensive heating bill) are negligible and easily solved using wealth. He also sees how becoming affluent provides endless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. The character has zero interest in returning to his previous life, and the angel can't compel Arj to return. Subsequently, more bad news comes: Because of exceeding his duties and disrupting the order of the world, the character loses his position as an celestial job, and turned to a mortal.

The Revelation: The Actor Grins

Personally, I remained not persuaded by the actor playing an celestial being with grand aspirations and a burning desire to make a difference. He turns in a familiar vaguely constipated acting he's been providing for at least the past 3 ten-year periods. Viewing Reeves as an celestial being who's recently become mortal for the first time, however, proved to be a blast, for a reason which really surprised me initially: It's something new for Reeves. Or perhaps more accurately, an aspect old.

Soon into his baffling experience being a human, staying with Jeff (who the angel had swapped with the handyman's hand-to-mouth life and underemployed situation), Gabriel begins hesitantly experimenting with everyday experiences like eating and consuming food. And Reeves smiles. Authentically, hesitantly, happily beams. (This is far more believable than the smile shown in the promotional image, that looks artificially added.)

Why That Grin Matters

The moment truly took me aback to recognize how unexpected and refreshing the expression was. At what point was the last time we observed the actor smile in a movie where he was not expressing malice, sarcasm, or bitterness? He probably attempts it somewhere in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, however I am not going to revisiting the disappointment to find out. The actor has been stuck with serious, murderous, broody, or just solemn roles for so long that merely seeing Reeves smile seemed like observing an entirely new performer.

As the story progresses, the character ends up needing to get a kitchen job, which doesn't pay enough to live on, and he starts chain-smoking out of frustration. Just the image of Reeves in a disposable plastic food-service cap, his late-career trademark locks tied in an unglamorous bun, slouching against a building and puffing on a smoke, is worth watching. The dishwasher attire totally changes his face and body: Suddenly, the lean, suited action star of his famous films becomes gawky, unglamorous, and much increasingly relatable.

The Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Relax

The film is not always enjoyable to view, particularly when Ansari (that additionally wrote the script) has to find plausible reasons for {Ar