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Aziz Ansari's directorial debut, the whimsical film from comedian the director, is facing challenges at the box office. Many reasons may explain its performance: The uninspired name doesn't express its movie's unique charm. The screenplay can be preachy and heavy-handed regarding its messages. Its performances seem flat and presentational, like the cast were reading dialogue directly from the page. And, it arrives during an era marked by economic uncertainty and disparity, which may make viewers not very receptive to a narrative that implies wealthy individuals have every benefits while the poor have heart.

However, this is what the movie stands out: It's unique, daring, creative, often humorous, and undoubtedly timely. And, it offers a enjoyable Keanu Reeves character-driven experience.

Keanu Reeves in the role of Angel: His Typical Portrayal

Personally, I've never considered Reeves to be a strong performer. His monotonal delivery and persistent expression of slight perturbation has consistently felt limited, regardless of his broad range of roles he has played over the past 40 years. Astute filmmakers have often cast Reeves in roles in which his rigidity works perfectly, from My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to John Wick. But almost all of those characters called for Reeves to seem tough, distant, and detached.

Throughout Good Fortune, Reeves portrays Gabriel, one minor guardian celestial being assigned with looking after individuals who use their phones while driving. The character's entire duty involves remaining in their cars and gently touching the drivers' shoulders when they're close to have an accident, alerting them so they stop in time. However, while standing overlooking the city, looking down upon humanity like an alternative version of the angel from Wim Wenders' classic film the angel story, Gabriel becomes aspirational. He wants to be a great protector and a savior of wayward souls.

The Unexpected Shift: Reeves Playing a Mortal

So, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling odd-jobber a character (played by the director), who's living out of a vehicle and cursing his life. Gabriel then swaps the man into the existence of extremely wealthy tech mogul Jeff (acted by the comedian). This point behind the exercise is that Arj to realize the wealthy man's existence has major downsides, and gratefully go back to his own life, much like a figure in It's a Wonderful Life.

Issue is, Arj right away realizes that Jeff's issues (tedious appointments, expensive pool-heater invoice) prove minor and easily resolved using wealth. He also realizes that being rich provides limitless chances for pleasurable fun. He has zero interest in returning to his own life, and Gabriel can't force Arj to go back. Then, more trouble comes: Because of exceeding his mandate and disrupting the order of the world, Gabriel loses his position from his angel role, and transformed to a human being.

A Revelation: The Actor Smiles

I was never convinced by the actor playing an celestial being with grand dreams and an intense desire to make a difference. He turns in the same vaguely stiff acting he's been providing for at least the last three decades. Watching Reeves in the role of celestial being who's recently become human initially, however, was highly entertaining, for a reason which truly surprised me at first: It's something different for the actor. Or to be precise, an aspect from the past.

Early during his baffling career as a human, clinging to the wealthy character (who the angel exchanged into the handyman's precarious existence and underemployed status), the character starts tentatively experimenting with human experiences such as chewing and swallowing meals. Then the actor smiles. Authentically, hesitantly, happily smiles. (It's far more believable than the grin on the poster, that looks digitally altered.)

Why That Smile Is Significant

The moment truly surprised me to recognize how surprising and welcome that smile felt. At what point did we last audiences saw the actor smile in a movie where he wasn't showing malice, irony, or resentment? The actor probably attempts it at some point in the recent misbegotten the sequel, however I am not going to revisiting the mess to confirm. Reeves has been stuck with grim, murderous, broody, or simply solemn characters for such a duration that just watching Reeves smile seemed like observing an entirely new actor.

As the story goes on, the character ends up needing to take a kitchen position, which doesn't pay enough for survival, and he begins smoking heavily out of frustration. Simply the image of the actor in a disposable plastic food-service hat, his late-career signature long hair tied in a plain ponytail, leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette, proves worth watching. The dishwasher attire completely changes his appearance and body: Suddenly, the lean, suited physical powerhouse of the John Wick films is awkward, ordinary, and much more relatable.

The Joy of Watching Reeves Relax

Good Fortune is not consistently fun to view, particularly when Ansari (who also wrote the script) has to create plausible explanations for {Ar