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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, this whimsical film from comedian the director, has been struggling at the box office. Many reasons could explain the film's reception: Its uninspired title fails to convey the movie's unique charm. The script can be preachy and obvious with the messages. Its performances are uninspired and staged, like the cast were reading dialogue straight from the page. And, the film comes during an era of financial anxiety and inequality, that may make viewers less open to a story that suggests wealthy individuals enjoy all the benefits while those in need have spirit.

But, here's what the movie excels: It's unique, bold, imaginative, often funny, and undoubtedly timely. And, it offers a enjoyable Keanu Reeves hangout experience.

Reeves in the role of Guardian: A Familiar Portrayal

Personally, I've not considered Reeves a good performer. His monotonal delivery and persistent look of slight perturbation has consistently seemed limited, regardless of his wide range of characters he has taken on over the last four decades years. Smart directors have cast Reeves in parts in which that rigidity fits perfectly, including My Own Private Idaho to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. But nearly every one of these characters required Reeves to seem hardened, closed-off, and removed.

Throughout Good Fortune, Reeves portrays Gabriel, a minor protecting angel tasked with looking after individuals who use their phones while behind the wheel. The character's whole job involves sitting in their vehicles and lightly touching the drivers' arms as they're about to have an accident, warning them in order that they brake in time. But, when positioned high above the city, looking down upon humanity similar to a interpretation of a celestial figure from the director's classic film the angel story, the character becomes ambitious. He wants to become an exceptional protector and rescuer of lost individuals.

The Unexpected Turn: Keanu Playing a Human

So, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (played by Aziz Ansari), who is residing out of his car and resenting his life. Gabriel then swaps the man with the life of stupidly wealthy tech mogul Jeff (acted by Seth Rogen). The point behind the exercise is for Arj would realize Jeff's life comes with significant downsides, and gratefully go back to his own life, similar to the figure in It's a Wonderful Life.

Problem is, the character immediately realizes how the mogul's problems (boring meetings, expensive pool-heater invoice) are minor and readily solved with wealth. He also sees that becoming affluent opens up endless opportunities for pleasurable fun. The character shows zero interest in returning to his previous situation, and Gabriel is unable to force him to return. Then, additional bad news comes: For exceeding his mandate and disrupting the order of the world, Gabriel loses his position as an celestial role, and transformed to a human being.

A Revelation: Keanu Reeves Grins

I was not convinced by Reeves as an celestial being who has big aspirations and a burning wish to effect change. Reeves delivers a familiar somewhat stiff performance he has been offering for no less than the past 3 decades. Viewing Reeves as an angel that has recently turned human initially, however, proved to be a blast, due to something which truly astonished viewers initially: It's an element different for Reeves. Or more accurately, something from the past.

Early into his confusing career as a mortal, clinging to Jeff (who Gabriel exchanged with Arj's precarious life and underemployed situation), the character begins tentatively trying out human experiences such as chewing and consuming food. And the actor grins. Genuinely, cautiously, happily beams. (It's a lot more believable than the smile on the poster, that looks digitally altered.)

The Reason This Smile Matters

It truly took me aback to recognize how unexpected and refreshing the expression was. At what point did we last we saw the actor smile in a movie where he was not showing malice, irony, or resentment? The actor probably attempts a smile somewhere in the recent ill-conceived the sequel, however I'm not revisiting the mess to find out. The actor has remained stuck with serious, violent, introspective, or simply serious characters for such a duration that merely watching Reeves grin felt like seeing an entirely new performer.

As the plot progresses, the character finds himself needing to get a kitchen position, a role that doesn't pay sufficient for survival, and he starts chain-smoking out of frustration. Simply the sight of the actor in a disposable plastic restaurant hat, his late-career signature locks pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching against a building and puffing on a cigarette, proves worth the price of admission. The dishwasher getup totally changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the lean, well-dressed physical powerhouse of his famous films is gawky, ordinary, and much increasingly relatable.

A Pleasure of Watching Reeves Loosen Up

The film is not consistently fun to watch, particularly when the director (who additionally wrote the screenplay) has to find plausible reasons for {Ar