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Good Fortune, this whimsical comedy by actor Aziz Ansari, is facing challenges at the box office. Many factors could account for the film's reception: The uninspired name fails to convey its film's unique appeal. Its screenplay is often preachy and heavy-handed with the themes. The acting are uninspired and staged, as if the cast are reciting lines straight from the page. Moreover, the film comes during an era of economic anxiety and disparity, that could make audiences less open to a story that implies wealthy individuals have every advantages while the poor have spirit.

But, this is what the movie excels: It's unique, bold, creative, frequently humorous, and certainly relevant. Plus, it provides a enjoyable the actor hangout experience.

Reeves in the role of Guardian: A Familiar Performance

I have not regarded Reeves a good performer. The actor's flat delivery and consistent look of mild perturbation have consistently felt one-note, despite the broad variety of roles he has played over the last four decades of his career. Astute filmmakers have placed him in roles in which his rigidity works ideally, from My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to the action series. But almost all of those characters required Reeves to seem tough, closed-off, or detached.

In Good Fortune, the actor portrays an angel, one low-level protecting celestial being tasked with looking after people that use their phones while behind the wheel. His whole duty involves remaining in their vehicles and lightly touching the drivers' shoulders as they're about to have an accident, alerting the person in order that they stop before impact. However, when positioned high above his domain, looking down upon humanity like a version of a celestial figure from the director's classic film Wings of Desire, Gabriel gets ambitious. He wants to be an exceptional guardian and rescuer of wayward individuals.

The Surprising Turn: Reeves as a Mortal

So, Gabriel presents his presence to down-and-out handyman Arj (portrayed by the director), who is living out of his car and resenting his situation. Gabriel proceeds to exchanges the man with the life of stupidly rich businessman Jeff (played by the comedian). The idea behind the experiment is for the character would understand the wealthy man's life comes with significant downsides, and gratefully return to his original circumstances, much like the figure in It's a Wonderful Life.

Issue is, the character right away discovers how Jeff's problems (tedious meetings, expensive pool-heater bill) prove negligible and readily solved using wealth. He further sees that being rich provides endless opportunities for pleasurable enjoyment. He shows zero desire in going back to his previous situation, and Gabriel is unable to force him to return. Then, more trouble arrives: For exceeding his duties and messing with the balance of existence, Gabriel loses his position as an celestial role, and transformed to a mortal.

A Discovery: The Actor Smiles

Personally, I remained not convinced by Reeves as an celestial being with big dreams and a burning desire to effect change. Reeves turns in the same somewhat constipated acting he has consistently providing for no less than the last 3 decades. Watching him in the role of celestial being that has recently turned human for the first time, on the other hand, was a blast, due to something which really surprised me initially: This is an element new for the actor. Or to be precise, an aspect old.

Soon into the character's confusing career being a human, clinging to Jeff (whom the angel had swapped into Arj's precarious life and underemployed status), the character begins hesitantly trying out human activities such as chewing and swallowing meals. Then the actor smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously beams. (This is far much believable than his smile on the poster, that looks digitally altered.)

The Reason This Smile Matters

The moment really surprised me to realize just how surprising and refreshing the expression was. When did we last audiences observed the actor grin in a film where he wasn't showing malice, irony, or bitterness? He likely attempts it at some point in the recent ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I'm not going to revisiting that disappointment to find out. The actor has remained typecast with grim, murderous, broody, or just serious roles for such a duration that just seeing him grin felt like seeing an entirely new performer.

While the story goes on, Gabriel finds himself needing to take a kitchen position, which doesn't pay enough to live on, and Gabriel begins smoking heavily out of disappointment. Just the image of the actor in a cheap plastic food-service cap, with his late-career signature long hair tied in a plain bun, slouching on a wall and smoking a smoke, proves worthy of the price of admission. The dishwasher getup completely changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the slim, suited physical powerhouse of his famous films is gawky, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly relatable.

A Joy of Watching Reeves Loosen Up

The film isn't always fun to view, particularly when the director (who additionally authored the script) has to create believable reasons for {Ar