Naomi Ackie stars as Frida in director Zoë Kravitz's Blink Twice.Carlos Somonte/Amazon MGM Studios
Blink Twice
Directed by Zoë Kravitz
Written by Zoë Kravitz and E.T. Feigenbaum
Starring Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum and Geena Davis
Classification 14A; 102 minutes
Opens in theatres Aug. 23
As an actor in Big Little Lies and The Batman, Zoë Kravitz comes off as the observant type, the one who hides in a corner quietly studying (and perhaps judging) everyone in the room. Exposed to stardom from a young age as the daughter of Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz, one can only imagine what she’s come away with.
Kravitz’s observational side seems to have come in handy for her directorial debut Blink Twice, a thoughtful post-#MeToo psychological thriller that’s tuned in to how partygoers clamouring around fame and luxury can become prey. The film is a fun and unsettling showcase for Kravitz, who proves herself to be an intentional and provocative filmmaker, putting jarring edits, precise framing and a sensational ensemble cast led by Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum, Adria Arjona and Geena Davis to great use.
Sure, the movie about a dream vacation turned sinister ultimately buckles under the weight of its inspirations, counting Stanley Kubrick, Roman Polanski and Jordan Peele among its unholy medley of influences. And Kravitz, in her eagerness to make an impression as an artful filmmaker, tries to pack in every idea she has and tends to lay it on thick, which is typical for a debut feature. But at least she has ideas. Some nepo-babies are worth rooting for.
Ackie stars in Blink Twice as Frida, a waiter who finds herself invited to a tech billionaire’s private island. The mogul, Slater King, is played with charming menace by Kravitz’s real-life fiancé Channing Tatum. We first see Slater in an Instagram reel that Frida consumes while she’s on the toilet. He’s giving an interview about being “cancelled” for some unspecified “abuse of power,” and accusations that his philanthropic efforts are performative. As Slater talks about finding redemption, Kravitz keeps the audio tinny. It’s trapped in iPhone quality, as though she won’t let his hollow words be anything more than grist for social media.
Naomi Ackie stars as Frida and Channing Tatum as Slater King in director Zoë Kravitz's Blink Twice. Ackie strikes the perfect balance of terror and humour in the film's lead role, while Tatum brings a sense of charming menace to his character.Carlos Somonte/Amazon MGM Studios
But a visit to a secluded island with tech billionaire who looks like Channing Tatum isn’t the kind of thing people say no to. Frida accepts Slater’s invite, and so she’s whisked away, baggage-free (or so she thinks), on a private jet alongside her best friend (Alia Shawkat), a former reality TV star (Adria Arjona) and an assortment of revelers played by Simon Rex, Christian Slater and Haley Joel Osment. On the island, they consume dry-aged steaks and bespoke MDMA while partaking in Slater’s lavish bacchanals. They lose track of the days, and forget who they arrived on the island with, because they’re having too much “fun.”
These moments with the partygoers are terrific because Kravitz is skilled at developing the comically chaotic beats between her actors, making everything from the superficial warmth of the parties to the sudden pangs of dread feel organic. Ackie and Arjona are the MVPs in Blink Twice, striking the perfect balance of terror and humour, but Davis stands out as a veteran handler cleaning up after Slater. With her cadence and workhorse mannerisms, Davis perfectly captures the thick-skinned woman we sometimes see in the misogynistic entertainment industry, whose survival mechanism is to grow hardened to Harvey Weinstein-level abuses while victim-blaming instead of holding perpetrators accountable.
Kravitz is slick for casting Davis because the Thelma and Louise star does not appear to be that type at all in real life. The actor is a staunch advocate for gender equity and inclusion. In her memoir, Dying of Politeness, Davis describes how much she let herself be taken advantage of in the industry because of a crippling fear to offend.
There’s a lot of that going on in Blink Twice. Every time a guest is asked whether they’re “having a good time,” the burden of answering “yes,” so as not to appear ungrateful, grows more insidious. Frida says she’s having a good time when she can’t account for certain lapses in memory, when she can’t figure out how dirt got under her fingernails, or how that dude got a black eye, or where her best friend disappeared to. Having a good time becomes code for subservience.
Unfortunately, the built-up anxieties in Blink Twice give way to an incoherent payoff, where the cathartic violence lands with a thud and a last-minute struggle to marry the film’s premise to conversations about cancel culture just doesn’t come together. It’s still a good time, if you’re asking me – and I’m not blinking.
Special to The Globe and Mail