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Good Fortune, this whimsical comedy by comedian Aziz Ansari, has been facing challenges in theaters. Many factors could explain the film's performance: Its uninspired name doesn't express the film's distinctive appeal. Its screenplay can be moralizing and heavy-handed with the themes. The performances are uninspired and presentational, like the cast were reading dialogue directly from the page. And, the film comes during an era marked by economic anxiety and disparity, that could render viewers less receptive to a story that suggests wealthy people have every advantages while those in need possess heart.

But, this is where the movie excels: The film is original, daring, creative, frequently funny, and certainly timely. Plus, it offers an unexpectedly great Keanu Reeves character-driven movie.

Keanu Reeves as an Guardian: A Familiar Performance

Personally, I've never regarded Keanu Reeves to be a good actor. The actor's monotonal speaking style and persistent expression of slight concern have always felt limited, regardless of his broad variety of roles he's played during the last 40 years. Astute filmmakers have often placed Reeves in parts where his rigidity works perfectly, from his early work to the sci-fi classic to John Wick. But almost every one of these characters required Reeves to seem hardened, closed-off, and detached.

In the film, the actor plays an angel, one low-level protecting angel assigned with looking after individuals who text while behind the wheel. The character's whole duty involves remaining in their cars and gently making contact with their arms when they're about to crash, alerting them in order that they brake before impact. However, while standing high above the city, looking down upon the mortal world like an alternative version of a celestial figure from Wim Wenders' classic movie Wings of Desire, the character gets ambitious. He desires to become a great guardian and rescuer of wayward individuals.

The Surprising Turn: Keanu Playing a Human

So, he presents himself to struggling handyman a character (played by Aziz Ansari), who is living in his car and cursing his life. Gabriel then exchanges Arj into the existence of extremely wealthy tech mogul Jeff (played by Seth Rogen). This idea of the experiment is for the character to understand the wealthy man's life comes with major downsides, and gratefully go back to his own circumstances, similar to the figure from It's a Wonderful Life.

Problem is, Arj immediately realizes how Jeff's issues (boring meetings, expensive heating invoice) prove negligible and easily resolved with money. Arj also sees that being rich provides limitless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. He shows no desire in returning to his previous situation, and the angel is unable to force Arj to go back. Then, more trouble comes: For overstepping his duties and messing with the order of the world, Gabriel is fired from his angel job, and transformed to a mortal.

The Revelation: The Actor Grins

Personally, I remained never convinced by Reeves as an angel with grand aspirations and a burning wish to effect change. He turns in the same somewhat constipated acting he has consistently providing for at least the past 3 decades. Viewing him in the role of celestial being who's just become mortal for the first time, however, was a blast, due to something that really astonished viewers initially: It's an element different for Reeves. Or perhaps to be precise, something from the past.

Early into his confusing career being a mortal, staying with Jeff (who Gabriel exchanged into the handyman's precarious existence and underemployed situation), the character starts hesitantly experimenting with everyday activities such as chewing and consuming food. And Reeves smiles. Authentically, cautiously, joyously beams. (This is a lot much believable than his grin on the poster, which looks digitally altered.)

Why This Smile Is Significant

It really took me aback to recognize just how surprising and welcome the expression was. At what point was the last time we observed the actor grin in a film in which he wasn't showing malice, irony, or bitterness? He likely attempts it at some point in 2020's ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I am not going to returning to the disappointment to find out. Reeves has been stuck with grim, murderous, broody, or simply serious characters for so long that merely seeing him smile seemed like seeing an entirely different performer.

While the plot goes on, the character finds himself having to take a dishwashing job, a role that doesn't pay enough for survival, and he starts chain-smoking out of disappointment. Simply the sight of the actor in a cheap paper restaurant hat, his late-career trademark long hair pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, leaning on a building and smoking a cigarette, is worthy of the price of admission. The kitchen worker getup completely alters his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the slim, suited action star of the John Wick films becomes awkward, unglamorous, and much more relatable.

The Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Relax

The film is not consistently fun to watch, especially when Ansari (who also wrote the screenplay) must find believable reasons for {Ar