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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the whimsical film from comedian the director, is struggling in theaters. Several factors may account for its reception: The uninspired name doesn't convey the film's distinctive charm. The screenplay is often preachy and obvious regarding the messages. The performances are flat and presentational, as if the actors were reciting dialogue straight from a script. Moreover, the film comes at a time of economic anxiety and inequality, that could render audiences less receptive to a story which implies wealthy people enjoy every benefits while the poor have spirit.

But, this is where Good Fortune excels: It's unique, bold, imaginative, often humorous, and certainly relevant. And, it offers a enjoyable the actor hangout experience.

Reeves as an Guardian: A Familiar Portrayal

I have never regarded Keanu Reeves a good performer. The actor's flat speaking style and persistent look of slight perturbation have consistently seemed one-note, despite the wide variety of roles he's played over the last four decades of his career. Smart directors have often placed him in parts in which that rigidity fits ideally, from My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to the action series. But nearly all of those roles required Reeves to seem hardened, closed-off, or detached.

Throughout the film, the actor plays Gabriel, one low-level protecting angel tasked with looking after people who text while behind the wheel. His entire job involves sitting in his vehicles and lightly making contact with their arms as they are about to have an accident, warning them so they brake in time. However, when positioned overlooking the city, looking down on the mortal world like an alternative interpretation of a celestial figure in Wim Wenders' renowned movie Wings of Desire, Gabriel becomes ambitious. He wants to become a great protector and a savior of wayward souls.

The Unexpected Shift: Reeves Playing a Human

So, he presents himself to struggling handyman Arj (portrayed by Aziz Ansari), who is residing in his car and resenting his life. The angel proceeds to exchanges Arj into the existence of stupidly wealthy tech mogul Jeff (played by Seth Rogen). This point behind the experiment was for Arj to understand Jeff's life comes with significant downsides, and gratefully return to his original life, much like a character in the classic film.

Issue was, the character immediately discovers that Jeff's issues (tedious appointments, expensive heating bill) prove negligible and easily resolved using wealth. Arj further realizes that being affluent provides endless opportunities for pleasurable enjoyment. He has no desire in going back to his previous situation, and the angel can't force him to go back. Then, more trouble comes: Because of exceeding his duties and messing with the order of existence, Gabriel loses his position as an celestial role, and turned into a human being.

The Revelation: Keanu Reeves Smiles

I was never convinced by the actor playing an angel who has big dreams and an intense wish to make a difference. He delivers the same vaguely stiff acting he has been providing for at least the last three ten-year periods. Viewing him as an celestial being who's just become mortal initially, on the other hand, was highly entertaining, for a reason that really surprised me initially: It's something different for Reeves. Or perhaps more accurately, something old.

Soon during the character's confusing career being a human, staying with the wealthy character (whom the angel had swapped with Arj's hand-to-mouth life and jobless situation), Gabriel begins hesitantly experimenting with everyday experiences such as eating and consuming meals. And the actor grins. Genuinely, cautiously, happily beams. (It's far more convincing than his grin shown in the promotional image, that appears digitally altered.)

The Reason That Grin Matters

The moment really took me aback to realize just how surprising and refreshing the smile was. When was the last time audiences observed the actor grin in a film in which he wasn't expressing malice, irony, or bitterness? The actor probably tries it at some point in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, however I'm not going to revisiting that mess to confirm. The actor has remained typecast with serious, violent, broody, or just solemn roles for so long that merely watching Reeves smile felt like observing a completely different actor.

While the story progresses, Gabriel ends up needing to take a kitchen job, which fails to provide enough to live on, and he starts smoking heavily due to frustration. Just the image of Reeves in a disposable plastic restaurant hat, his recent trademark long hair tied in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching on a building and puffing on a cigarette, is worthy of the price of admission. His dishwasher attire totally changes his appearance and body: Suddenly, the lean, suited action star of his famous films becomes gawky, ordinary, and much increasingly human.

The Pleasure of Watching Reeves Loosen Up

Good Fortune isn't always fun to watch, particularly when the director (that additionally authored the screenplay) has to find believable explanations for {Ar