Blink Twice hits theaters on August 23
“Are you having fun?” That’s 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 peppers the island mystery/morality play about gig economy worker Frida (Naomi Ackie) and tech billionaire Slater King (Channing Tatum) with lush imagery and complex sound design. For the audience (and her characters), it’s more of a muddle. Despite its slick presentation, Blink Twice struggles with a superficial approach to important themes and issues that never get the attention they deserve in this thriller that relies more on mood than substance.
Co-writers Kravitz and ET Feigenbaum originally called their film Pussy Island. The switch to the more poster-friendly Blink Twice not only creates a stronger sense of intrigue – it’s indicative of a film that wants to be more provocative than it actually is. It includes 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, but Kravitz and Feigenbaum’s script is nowhere near bold enough to give that impression. It puts its finger on the current hot topics of income disparity and gender inequality, but never presses hard enough.
Kravitz gets going with a riveting first act in which the restless Frida reveals her quiet obsession with King as she endlessly scrolls through social media for details of his daily life. Rich, handsome and charming, but he’s painfully outclassed her. He’s also a problematic favorite: King recently returned to the public eye after an unspecified scandal prompted him to retreat to his private island for therapy and remorse – the always charismatic Tatum gets a big thumbs up for playing against type. Despite what he’s done, Frida is determined to get into his orbit, setting in motion a pursuit that will change her life. After enticing her best friend and roommate Jess (a feisty Alia Shawkat) into a scheme that involves them working as waiters at a fundraiser for King, protagonist and celebrity crush meet and are invited into the mogul’s inner circle and jetted off to his personal paradise on a dazzlingly decadent, whirlwind evening. They don’t think much of it – but we do, knowing what kind of movie Blink Twice is.
Frida and Jess leave their boring lives behind and immediately surrender to the endless indulgence of incredible food, drug-fueled nights, and hungover days by the pool. The isolated environment gives Kravitz and her collaborators a chance to let loose, establishing the sensory rule-breaking nature of a tropical playground for the elite that’s always a little…off. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra’s ethereal framing is underscored by Jon Flores’s top-notch sound design; in Flores’ hands, ordinary noises are elevated in the mix and twisted into mini-moments of shock that heighten Frida and Jess’s increasing state of unease. These ambient sounds are tailored to the beat of the action like music, and composer Chanda Dancy fills all the empty spaces between them with a score of ominous vibrations. Kravitz and her collaborators weave an aesthetic tapestry that’s impressively experimental and often dissonant, leaving us feeling as uncomfortable as Frida does as things go further awry.
What you’ll notice, though, is that none of this has to do with particularly strong storytelling. The over-repeated depiction of hedonism on King’s island getaway eventually becomes indulgent, and in doing so drags Blink Twice down. Kravitz’s commitment to being extremely indirect about what’s going on means it takes too long for Frida to recognize and respond to the strange, inexplicable effects being inflicted on her body and mind. Any sense of urgency is deferred until the third act, when unexpected clarity opens a flood of memories that come without sufficient context or explanation.
King’s party-boy clique – played by Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Levon Hawke and Haley Joel Osment – is similarly disappointingly stagnant. Each of them represents a specific wealthy, male-boy archetype stuck in perpetual binge mode: The foodie chef, the fresh-faced crypto fanatic, etc. While they all get a few laughs with their cluelessness, all of these actors are capable of so much more. Even veterans Kyle MacLachlan and Geena Davis are underused in roles that amount to extended cameos. Only Ackie and Adria Arjona – the latter playing a beefy reality show champion – give us characters worth caring about. It’s a testament to their individual screen presence and chemistry that they manage to elevate what little material they’re given. Even Tatum’s considerable talents can’t make up for King’s deliberate enigmatic nature – it takes a few last-minute monologues to finally explain his characters’ motivations. As an antagonist, he’s frustratingly half-baked and then clumsily exposed.
But I don’t think clarity is really the goal here. Maintaining the mood seems paramount. But that’s not enough when Kravitz and Feigenbaum’s script asks us to consider some pressing, real-world issues through the lens of this odd premise and characters. And yet the script doesn’t do the job of addressing any of them with intellectual intent. Instead, Kravitz chooses the route of violent retribution, 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, for me it felt hollow, more interested in creating a memorable final image than an ending that makes sense given the cost it took.
