Eddington

Ari Aster's Eddington is a feverish, kaleidoscopic descent into the American psyche during the COVID-19 pandemic-a film that aspires to be a modern Dr. Strangelove but often resembles a fever dream in a funhouse mirror. Set in a fictional New Mexico town, it follows Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) as he spirals into political and personal chaos, clashing with Mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) amid a backdrop of mask mandates, conspiracy theories, and societal unraveling.

Aster's ambition is palpable, weaving a tapestry of political satire, dark comedy, and surreal horror. The film's visual style, marked by stark contrasts and unsettling imagery, mirrors the disorienting nature of the pandemic era. Phoenix delivers a performance that oscillates between manic energy and tragic vulnerability, capturing the essence of a man undone by his own delusions.

However, Eddington often falters under the weight of its own ambition. The narrative, overstuffed with themes ranging from political polarization to performative activism, lacks the coherence necessary to deliver its message effectively. While Aster critiques both the far-right and the performative left, the film's satire occasionally veers into cynicism, offering little in the way of nuanced commentary.

The film's pacing suffers as well; its 145-minute runtime feels bloated, with sequences that drag and moments that seem indulgent rather than essential. The tonal shifts-from dark comedy to horror to political allegory-can be jarring, leaving the audience disoriented rather than enlightened.

In the end, Eddington is a film that strives for profundity but often settles for spectacle. It is a cinematic reflection of internet outrage, a mirror held up to a society in turmoil, but one that sometimes obscures more than it reveals. While it offers moments of insight and flashes of brilliance, it ultimately falls short of its lofty aspirations.

5/10. Expected a lot more.

I can only tell this is gonna be a very polarising film, people are going to love the ambition from Aster or call it a convoluted mess.

Depending on your views during the 2020s will severely determined your outlook on this film. Are you able to laugh at the insanity or remain serious at the severity of events that transpired.

Eddington is ultimately a satire on the comedic ridiculousness and tumultuous times of the 2020's. Eddington in itself is the main character. It's a macrocosom of events that impacted the US but obviously ramps them up to 11.

I appreciate the craft and the film was at its best when it was reminiscent of the Coen's No Country For Old Men. The 2nd act elevated the implemented satire to a contemporary western crime thriller.

The film is hit or miss in its summary. I understand the message and themes but at some points the execution is lacking. I feel like it tried to juggle a lot of themes and messages. Maybe sticking to one or two would have made the film more tight and succinct.

It's a meticulously crafted powder keg, and Aster lights the fuse with the precision of someone who knows exactly how long the fuse burns. The man doesn't make movies-he engineers experiences. This one? A contemporary western that hums with unease, like a desert wind carrying whispers of something off.

Aster's got a reputation for unsettling audiences, but here he trades pagan rituals and family trauma for the sun-bleached nihilism of New Mexico. The tension isn't in the jump scares-it's in the silence between glances, the way a sheriff's badge catches the light just a little too sharply. His camera lingers like a vulture circling, and the editing? Tight. No wasted movement. You'll feel every minute of its 148 runtime, but not because it drags. Because it grinds.

Joaquin Phoenix as the sheriff? He's all coiled ambition and swallowed rage, a man who's mastered the art of smiling without it touching his eyes. Emma Stone? She's in her element here, shifting from warmth to withering skepticism like a switchblade flicking open. And Pedro Pascal-quiet, calculating, a performance that says more in a raised eyebrow than most do in monologues.

If you're expecting another Midsommar, adjust your sights. This is a different breed-a dark comedy dressed in cowboy boots, where the jokes land like gut punches. The humor's bone-dry, the violence matter-of-fact, and the existential dread? Oh, it's there. Lurking in the background like a bad habit you can't quit.

Is it perfect? No. The third act's ambition occasionally outpaces its grip, and not every metaphor sticks the landing. But perfection's overrated. Eddington's a ride-a nasty, hypnotic, memorable ride. Aster's not asking you to like it. He's daring you to look away.

My advice? Don't.