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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the fantasy comedy from comedian the director, has been facing challenges in theaters. Several reasons could explain the film's reception: The uninspired name fails to convey the film's unique charm. Its script can be moralizing and heavy-handed with the themes. Its acting seem uninspired and staged, as if the actors were reading lines directly from a script. And, it arrives during an era of financial anxiety and inequality, that may render audiences not very open to a story which implies wealthy people have every advantages while the poor possess heart.

However, here's where Good Fortune stands out: It's unique, daring, imaginative, often humorous, and certainly relevant. Plus, it provides a enjoyable the actor character-driven movie.

Keanu Reeves as an Guardian: His Typical Performance

Personally, I've never considered Keanu Reeves to be a good performer. His flat speaking style and persistent expression of slight perturbation has consistently felt one-note, regardless of the broad variety of characters he has taken on over the past four decades years. Astute filmmakers have often cast Reeves in parts where his rigidity works perfectly, from My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to John Wick. But nearly all of these roles required Reeves to appear tough, closed-off, and detached.

In the film, Reeves plays Gabriel, one minor guardian celestial being tasked with watching over individuals who use their phones when behind the wheel. The character's entire duty involves sitting in his cars and lightly touching their arms when they're about to crash, warning them so the driver stop in time. But, while positioned high above the city, gazing on the mortal world similar to an alternative interpretation of the angel from Wim Wenders' renowned film Wings of Desire, Gabriel gets aspirational. He desires to become an exceptional protector and a savior of wayward individuals.

A Unexpected Shift: Reeves Playing a Human

So, Gabriel reveals his presence to struggling handyman a character (played by the director), who is living in his car and cursing his situation. Gabriel proceeds to exchanges the man into the life of extremely rich businessman Jeff (played by Seth Rogen). This idea of the exercise was that Arj to realize Jeff's existence has significant downsides, and thankfully return to his own life, similar to the character in the classic film.

Issue was, Arj immediately realizes how Jeff's issues (tedious meetings, expensive pool-heater bill) prove negligible and easily solved using money. He further realizes how being rich opens up endless chances for self-indulgent fun. The character shows no interest in going back to his own life, and the angel can't compel Arj to return. Subsequently, additional bad news arrives: Because of exceeding his mandate and messing with the order of the world, Gabriel is fired as an angel job, and transformed to a human being.

A Discovery: Keanu Reeves Grins

Personally, I remained never convinced by the actor playing an angel with grand dreams and a burning wish to make a difference. Reeves turns in a familiar somewhat constipated acting he's been offering for no less than the past three decades. Watching him as an celestial being that has just turned human initially, however, was a blast, for a reason that really surprised me at first: This is something new for the actor. Or more accurately, something from the past.

Soon into the character's baffling career being a mortal, staying with the wealthy character (who Gabriel exchanged into the handyman's precarious life and underemployed status), the character starts tentatively experimenting with everyday experiences such as eating and swallowing meals. Then Reeves smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously beams. (It's far more convincing than the smile on the poster, that looks artificially added.)

Why This Smile Matters

The moment really took me aback to realize just how surprising and welcome that smile felt. At what point did we last we saw the actor smile in a movie where he was not expressing malice, sarcasm, or resentment? He probably tries it at some point in 2020's ill-conceived the sequel, but I'm not revisiting that disappointment to find out. Reeves has been stuck with serious, violent, broody, or just serious roles for so long that merely seeing Reeves grin felt like observing an entirely different actor.

As the plot goes on, the character ends up needing to take a dishwashing position, which fails to provide enough for survival, and he starts smoking heavily due to disappointment. Simply the sight of Reeves in a disposable plastic restaurant cap, his late-career trademark long hair tied in an unglamorous ponytail, slouching on a wall and puffing on a cigarette, is worth the price of admission. The dishwasher getup totally changes his face and body: Suddenly, the slim, well-dressed physical powerhouse of the John Wick movies becomes awkward, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly relatable.

The Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Loosen Up

Good Fortune is not always fun to view, especially when the director (that additionally wrote the screenplay) has to find plausible explanations for {Ar