Blink Twice opens in theaters August 23
“Are you having a good time?” So asks the tagline for Zoë Kravitz’s directorial debut, Blink Twice. If the “you” in question is the director, then the answer is yes: This was clearly a blast for Kravitz, who injects the island mystery/morality play centered on gig-economy worker Frida (Naomi Ackie) and tech billionaire Slater King (Channing Tatum) with lush visuals and complex sound design. For the audience (and her characters), it’s more muddled. Despite its slick presentation, Blink Twice struggles with a superficial approach to significant themes and topics that never get the attention they deserve within this vibes-over-substance thriller.
Co-writers Kravitz and E.T. Feigenbaum originally called their movie Pussy Island. The swap to the more poster-friendly Blink Twice doesn’t just create a stronger sense of intrigue – it’s indicative of a film’s that wants to be more provocative than it really is. It has controversial films like the Trump-era “The Most Dangerous Game” riff The Hunt or the rape-revenge shocker I Spit on Your Grave in its DNA, yet Kravitz and Feigenbaum’s script is nowhere near audacious enough to make that kind of impression. It hovers its fingers over the contemporary hot buttons of the income gap and gender inequality, but never presses hard enough.
Kravitz comes out strong with an absorbing first act that has the restless Frida revealing her quiet obsession with King as she endlessly scrolls social media for tidbits about his daily life. Rich, handsome, and charming, he’s painfully out of her league. He’s also a problematic fave: King has recently returned to the public eye after an unspecified scandal prompted him to retreat to his private island for therapy and contrition – the ever-charismatic Tatum gets a big thumbs up for playing against type. Regardless of what he’s done, Frida is determined to enter his orbit and sets in motion a pursuit that will change her life. After conscripting her best friend/roommate Jess (a bubbly Alia Shawkat) into a scheme that has them cater-waitering a King fundraiser, protagonist and celebrity crush meet cute, and within one dazzlingly decadent whirlwind evening, Frida and Jess are invited into the mogul’s inner circle and onto a flight to his personal paradise. They don’t give it a second thought – though we do, knowing what type of movie Blink Twice is.
Leaving their stale lives behind, Frida and Jess immediately give themselves over to the endless indulgence of incredible food, drug-fueled nights, and hungover days lounging by the pool. The isolated setting gives Kravitz and her collaborators the opportunity to go to town establishing the sensory rule-breaking of a tropical playground for the elite that is always just a little… off. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra’s ethereal framing is underscored by the top-notch sound design of Jon Flores; in Flores’ hands, ordinary sounds are raised in the mix and twisted into mini-jump scares that ratchets up Frida and Jess’ escalating state of discomfort. Those ambient sounds are edited to the beat of the action, like music, and composer Chanda Dancy fills any empty spaces between them with a score of ominous vibrations. Kravitz and her collaborators weave an aesthetic tapestry that’s impressively experimental and often discordant, leaving us feeling just as uncomfortable as Frida as things go increasingly wrong.
Blink Twice wants to be more provocative than it really is.
What you’ll notice, however, is that none of that has to do with particularly strong storytelling. The rinse/repeat depiction of the hedonism on King’s island getaway eventually grows indulgent, and drags Blink Twice down as a result. Kravitz’s commitment to being extremely oblique with what’s going on means it takes too long for Frida to acknowledge and act on the strange, inexplicable toll that’s being taken on her body and her mind. Any sense of urgency is pushed off until the third act, when unexpected clarity opens a floodgate of memories that come without enough context or explanation.
King’s posse of party boys – played by Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Levon Hawke, and Haley Joel Osment – are similarly, disappointingly stagnant. Each one represents a particular affluent, man-boy archetype stuck in permanent-rager mode: The foodie cook, the fresh-faced crypto stan, etc. While they each land a few laughs with their cluelessness, all of these actors are capable of so much more. Even veterans Kyle MacLachlan and Geena Davis are underserved in roles that amount to extended cameo appearances. Only Ackie and Adria Arjona – the latter playing a salty reality-show champ – give us characters worth caring about. It’s a testament to their individual screen presences and their chemistry together that they manage to elevate what little material they’re provided. Even Tatum’s considerable talents can’t compensate for King being so purposefully enigmatic – it takes some last- minute monologues to finally explain his characters’ motivations. As an antagonist, he’s frustratingly undercooked and then clumsily revealed.
But I don’t think clarity is really the goal here. Maintaining the vibe seems to be paramount. But that’s not enough when Kravitz and Feigenbaum’s script is begging us to examine some pressing, real-life problems through the lens of this curious premise and cast of characters. Yet the script doesn’t do the work to address any one of them with intellectual purpose. Instead, Kravitz takes the path of violent reprisal, which is more fitting for a horror film than a thriller like Blink Twice. While fans of chaotic retribution might find the final act cathartic, to me it was hollow, more interested in pulling off a memorable final image than an ending that makes sense for what it cost to get there.
