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Good Fortune, the whimsical comedy by actor the director, has been facing challenges in theaters. Many factors could account for its reception: Its uninspired name fails to express its film's distinctive charm. Its screenplay can be moralizing and heavy-handed with the messages. The performances seem uninspired and presentational, like the cast are reading dialogue straight from a script. And, it arrives during an era of financial uncertainty and inequality, which could make viewers not very open to a story that implies rich people have every benefits while those in need have spirit.

But, here's what Good Fortune stands out: It's original, bold, imaginative, frequently humorous, and certainly relevant. And, it provides an unexpectedly enjoyable the actor character-driven movie.

Reeves as an Angel: A Familiar Performance

Personally, I've never regarded Reeves to be a strong performer. His monotonal speaking style and persistent look of mild concern has consistently seemed one-note, regardless of his broad variety of roles he has taken on over the last four decades of his career. Smart filmmakers have cast him in roles where that rigidity fits ideally, including My Own Private Idaho to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. But nearly all of those roles called for him to appear hardened, closed-off, and detached.

Throughout Good Fortune, Reeves plays an angel, a minor guardian angel tasked with looking after individuals that use their phones while behind the wheel. The character's entire duty is sitting in their cars and gently touching the drivers' shoulders when they're close to have an accident, alerting them so they brake in time. But, while positioned overlooking his domain, gazing on humanity similar to an alternative interpretation of the angel from the director's renowned movie the angel story, the character gets ambitious. He wants to be an exceptional guardian and a savior of lost individuals.

A Surprising Shift: Reeves Playing a Mortal

Therefore, he presents his presence to down-and-out handyman Arj (portrayed by the director), who is residing out of his car and resenting his situation. Gabriel proceeds to exchanges the man with the existence of stupidly rich businessman Jeff (acted by Seth Rogen). This idea behind the experiment is for the character would realize Jeff's life comes with major downsides, and gratefully return to his original life, similar to the figure in the classic film.

Problem was, Arj immediately discovers how the mogul's issues (boring appointments, expensive heating invoice) prove minor and readily resolved using wealth. Arj further sees that becoming rich opens up limitless chances for self-indulgent enjoyment. The character has no interest in going back to his own situation, and Gabriel can't compel him to go back. Subsequently, more bad news arrives: For overstepping his mandate and messing with the order of existence, Gabriel is fired as an angel role, and transformed into a mortal.

A Revelation: The Actor Grins

I was never convinced by the actor as an celestial being with big aspirations and an intense wish to make a difference. Reeves delivers a familiar somewhat constipated performance he's been offering for at least the last 3 ten-year periods. Viewing him as an angel who's just turned human initially, on the other hand, was a blast, due to something that really astonished me at first: This is something new for Reeves. Or to be precise, something old.

Soon into the character's baffling experience as a human, staying with the wealthy character (who Gabriel exchanged with Arj's hand-to-mouth life and jobless situation), Gabriel begins hesitantly experimenting with human activities such as eating and swallowing meals. Then the actor grins. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously beams. (It's a lot more believable than the smile shown in the promotional image, that appears artificially added.)

The Reason That Smile Matters

It truly surprised me to realize how unexpected and refreshing that expression felt. When was the last time we observed Keanu Reeves grin in a film in which he was not showing malice, irony, or resentment? He likely tries a smile at some point in the recent ill-conceived the sequel, but I'm not going to returning to the mess to find out. The actor has remained typecast with serious, violent, broody, or just serious roles for so long that merely watching him grin felt like seeing a completely different performer.

While the story goes on, Gabriel finds himself needing to take a dishwashing position, which fails to provide sufficient for survival, and he starts chain-smoking out of frustration. Just the image of Reeves in a cheap plastic restaurant hat, his late-career trademark long hair tied in a plain ponytail, leaning on a building and puffing on a smoke, proves worthy of the price of admission. The dishwasher getup totally changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the lean, well-dressed action star of the John Wick movies becomes gawky, unglamorous, and much more relatable.

A Pleasure of Watching Reeves Loosen Up

Good Fortune isn't always enjoyable to view, particularly when Ansari (who also authored the script) has to find plausible reasons for {Ar