None of the female stars of Zoë Kravitz’s raucous, razor-sharp directorial debut “Blink Twice” (FKA “Pussy Island”) are ever directly told to smile, but as they’re increasingly battered with queries about how much fun they’re having — the phrase “are you having a good time?” is essentially weaponized here — the implication is clear. They better be having a good time. They better smile. And they better never forget where they are. As Kravitz’s stars, including an exceptional Naomi Ackie and a revelatory Adria Arjona, are forced to flicker through various kinds of self-presentation-as-self-preservation, Kravitz’s film kaleidoscopically changes shape. And you won’t want to miss a single frame of it.
Simply described as something of a #MeToo thriller (or, perhaps a bit more cattily speaking, a sterling example of if “Don’t Worry, Darling” was twice as smart and three times as entertaining), Kravitz’s film doesn’t just interrogate the possibilities of the sub-genre, but utterly redefines it with class and style. Mostly, Kravitz (who co-wrote the script with her “High Fidelity” compatriot E.T. Feigenbaum) delights in working double-time: “Blink Twice” is cunningly funny and high-spirited, but not at the expense of having plenty to say about what it means to be a woman in a distinctly man’s world. Especially if that man is embattled business genius Slater King (Channing Tatum), and his world is a lush tropical island populated entirely to his specifications (drugs, Christian Slater, sushi-grade fish).
Frida’s (Ackie) fixation on Slater King doesn’t seem to jibe with the other things we learn about her as Kravitz’s film opens in her dingy NYC apartment. One moment, she’s eagerly scrolling her Instagram feed for videos of the formerly canceled tycoon (we never learn exactly what Slater did, just that he’s apologized a lot for his apparent “abuses of power” and vows he’s a changed man now, helped by his love for therapy and the big, fat checks he writes to his philanthropic foundation), the next, she’s trying her damndest to pull her best pal Jess (Alia Shawkat) away from a scummy ex. Frida’s apparent obsession with Slater doesn’t square with her otherwise pragmatic bent, but she wouldn’t be the first woman to lose her mind over a sexy, rich man who vows he’s, really, one of the good ones now.
But the duality at play in Ackie’s performance is a feature, not a bug, as is the case with the rest of the big swings Kravitz pulls out of her stacked cast. When cater waiter Frida runs into Slater at his annual gala — where, it’s intimated, they may have met-cute last year — he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who needed to go on an international apology tour. Tatum’s Slater initially scans as a humbled dude who mostly wants to spend time with his pals, doing drugs “with intention” and chatting about the benefits of excavating his early childhood traumas, which, dammitall, he just can’t seem to fully remember. (Arjona’s Sarah also first reads as jealous chick who doesn’t like all the other ladies pulling at Slater’s attention; that too will be marvelously unpacked over the course of the film).
As Slater and his pals (including a dizzying supporting cast that also includes Simon Rex, Haley Joel Osment, Levon Hawke, Liz Caribel, Trew Mullen, and a peripheral Kyle MacLachlan) ready to depart the gala for one of their seemingly regular trips to the island, he pauses. Cue the Cinderella fantasy, brought to life: would Frida (and Jess, too, sure) want to come along? Would they ever!
Everyone in Slater’s orbit is so nice, so when his scattered assistant Stacy (Geena Davis, a total delight) requests they chuck their phones into a bright pink bag before they even step foot inside the ripped-from-a-magazine villa, Frida and Jess can’t say no. Who wouldn’t want to blot out the rest of the big, bad world and spend this time fully engaged with all these welcoming strangers? As the champagne starts flowing, always delivered by a faceless staff member, always topped with a fresh raspberry, their days start to bleed into one. What day is it? Why can they never remember their nights? Why does everything start bleeding into one dizzying, destabilizing party montage? And why are the guys constantly asking the girls if they are having a good time?
Weird omens stack up, from the omnipresent maid (María Elena Olivares) who seemingly taunts Frida with a two-word phrase (“red rabbit, red rabbit, red rabbit“) while spending her days plucking evil-looking snakes from the grounds, to endless knives, clicking cameras, and shiny red gift bags that pop up here, there, everywhere. The gals are given matching outfits — all of them white, white bathing suits, white sarongs, white gowns — in a move that Jess initially terms “weird” before Frida laughingly re-christens it “rich.” It’s a question that will linger: Is this weird, or is it just something rich people do? (Hell, why not both?)
Kravitz — assisted by both cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra and editor Kathryn J. Schubert — packs a playful, sophisticated visual sense into every frame of the film. There’s always plenty to look at in “Blink Twice,” much of it important in the moment and even more meaningful as the story unfolds. Kravitz gives us all the clues, but doles them out in such a way that we still feel genuinely shocked by what’s actually happening on Slater’s so-called Pussy Island, while also — and this is crucial — never feeling as if Kravitz and Feigenbaum are toying with us.
They’re also not trying to coddle us.
When Kravitz finally reveals what’s actually happening to Frida on her so-called vacation, the filmmaker doesn’t balk at flipping “Blink Twice” into truly terrifying territory. Audiences will be startled, but Kravitz sticks the implications and tone of her twist by cleverly building to it in every moment that came before. It’s not surprising, but it is shocking. It is also, by virtue of Kravitz and Feigenbaum’s pin-point precise plotting, earned. (And that’s long before Kravitz drives toward a final 15 minutes that, without dipping too far into spoilers, utterly sticks her ambitious landing.)
Despite the heavier implications of Kravitz’s film, the first-time filmmaker maintains an enviable buzz throughout, twinning humor and rage into one biting package. You’ll laugh, you’ll gasp, you’ll have, yes, a very good time. You’ll also marvel at the introduction of a newly-minted filmmaker with a crystal-clear vision of both what the world is and what it could be, at least if the women were in charge.
Grade: A-
Amazon/MGM Studios will release “Blink Twice” in theaters on Friday, August 23.
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