By Dwight Brown
NNPA Film Critic
(**1/2) There’s something beautiful and intriguing about what you’re watching. What you’re hearing. Hard to put your finger on it. Hard to ignore the imperfections, too.
Music video? No. Traditional feature film? No. This is a hybrid. Something new. Something fans of The Weeknd, the film’s central character, may eat up. Especially if they stop by the cannabis store on their way to the theater. Others might be confounded.
Sounds are heard. A haunting melody. A musician (Abel Tesfaye) alone in a room plays the piano, sings and bears his soul: “… And I hope that I find what I’m looking for. I hope someone’s watching from up above. Done with the lies, done with the loss. Hope my confession is enough …” After some liquor and cocaine courage and shadowboxing like he’s a boxer, he dons a black hooded robe with gold brocade leaves and heads down a hallway. Shortly, he’s singing to thousands at a concert after his affable manager Lee (Barry Keoghan, The Banshees of Inisherin) has coaxed his temperamental artist, once again. “Stop self-doubtin’. You’re fu—-g invincible.”
Somewhere else in a cold rural area with snow on the ground, a young woman, Anima (Jenny Ortega, Wednesday), storms around a home. She’s nervous, in an angst.
Something’s on her mind. Whatever it is, her destructive thoughts lead her to grabbing a gas can. Pouring petrol around like she’s mad as hell at someone, something or herself. Volatile. Uncontrollable. Dangerous.
Will the two disparate souls, a singer and a psycho, ever meet? Are they predestined? Or do they even know each other? It won’t be easy for audiences to follow what’s going on. At least in any kind of normal cinema going way. But if they can let go of what they think a standard film format should be, and go for the ride, what’s ahead is a psychological drama with some thriller elements that’s more adept at looks and sounds than a plotline that’s coherent or riveting.
Credit all involved for trying something new. Writer/director Trey Edward Shults (Krishna) and co-screenwriters Reza Fahim and Abel Tesfaye are not afraid. Especially Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye, who is loved by his millions of fans worldwide. Yeah him, an Ethiopian/Canadian who’s set music streaming records ablaze and won Grammys. This is his story, one born from an incident he had at a concert as he lost his voice in front of 80K fans at the SoFi Stadium in Inglewood, California. A singer’s worst nightmare. It seems like part of his healing process from that trauma is creating this film and an accompanying album of the same name. That misery haunts most of the movie.
The singer’s storyteller is the director Shults, who has nothing in his filmography like this. He directed The Weeknd: Drive music video, but there’s no story. He deftly captured real family drama in his debut film Krisha, but it was sedentary and not fluid. This vehicle required a meshing of his skills, being fearless and letting the chips fall where they may. Credit him for the courage to be innovative, regardless of the results. In the process he’s shown he can manage a bigger budget film. Of course, it’s easier to direct and set a tone if your production crew is this good and the music is so entrancing.
Cinematographer Chayse Irvin’s (BlacKkKlansman) sense of lighting, composition and framing is consistently mesmerizing. It’s almost like the footage has no bright whites, just cream colors or light grays that contrast with saturated tones like deep vibrant reds. Scenes melt into each other, with swirls of lights. Like bits of perfectly filmed commercials. Skin glistens, especially that of The Weeknd. The camera flatters a young man not necessarily known for his looks. In front of this lens, he seems photogenic. Especially his profile. Concerts, hotel rooms, the back seats of cars—all the interiors (production designer Elliott Hostetter)—are eye-catching. Abel’s robes, Lee’s bulky cardigan sweaters and Anima’s garb are striking (costume designers Erin Benach, Hannah Jacobs), too.
What the visuals can’t carry the music does, thanks to the experimental electronic music producer Dan Lopatin who collaborated with The Weeknd here, and also on the bestselling albums After Hours and Dawn FM. From the reflective opening song to the upbeat “Wake Me Up,” which has guitar licks, drumbeats and bass rhythms like it’s the son of a Michael Jackson song off the Thriller album. In fact, many thought The Weekend was Jackson’s heir apparent, but he’s different. He isn’t a dancer. His music is more ethereal pop than R&Bish. But here, under close scrutiny, the similarities are most apparent when he sings. His soothing soft tenor voice, with its delicate vibrato, echoes the king of Pop’s. No wonder he’s sold billions of music streams on Spotify.
Yes, the singer is out of water as an actor. Yet somehow, he emotes enough as an artist torn by doubt, fear and trauma, to be convincing. Odd to say it, but convincing at playing himself. Which makes you wonder if the film would be more palatable to more people if he was playing a completely fictional character. On the other hand, Keaghan dominates ever scene he’s in. With facial expressions, quirky movements, wearing his emotions on his sleeve and physical contact with other actors. That’s how he stole The Banshees of Inisherin from the rest of the Oscar-nominated cast. Ortega is equally adept at developing her character. She’s only five feet tall, yet she’s pretty creepy in the Netflix’s Wednesday and suitably unnerving here as a stalker.
What if this tepid drama/thriller had been a horror film? That might have added the dimension it’s lacking. Or it might have been a reasonable explanation for why a petite woman could overpower two grown-ass men. Or what if the filmmakers had made a backstage documentary, instead of this? Would some be less inclined to call this a vanity project? An over-extended, 105-minute music video that should have stayed in its own lane.
Even if the filmmakers have stumbled and may take a few punches in the face for breaking genre norms, some may say it’s worth it. That being enigmatic isn’t so bad when you’re featuring something this eye catching, ear pleasing and new.
Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.
