‘Blink Twice’ Review: Nightmare Island
Published: 02:08 PM,Aug 26,2024 | EDITED : 07:08 PM,Aug 26,2024
For a film like “Blink Twice” to land its horror-stained commentary on sexual assault and cancel culture as well as class and race, it would need a director capable of pushing beyond basic social politics. In her debut feature, Zoë Kravitz is not that director.
Rather her film, for which she also wrote the screenplay with E.T. Feigenbaum, exists more as a concept than a complete idea. The same could be said of the film’s protagonist, Frida (Naomi Ackie). She pines for the lifestyle of the disgraced tech mogul Slater King, played by Channing Tatum, Kravitz’s partner.
Frida and her roommate, Jess (Alia Shawkat), work as servers at a gala — which allows the two women to switch into eye-catching dresses to mingle with the rich. When Frida snaps her heel, it’s Slater who helps her up, leading to a night of reverie culminating in an invite to his private island, where he has retreated after issuing a public apology for actions the film leaves relatively unknown.
For the tech mogul’s entourage, Kravitz has assembled an impressive cast: Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Haley Joel Osment and Levon Hawke. These men are meant to elicit dread, with an appetizing drink in hand. But only Slater King’s therapist, Rich (Kyle MacLachlan), knows how to play pleasantness as threatening.
Kravitz crafts an uneasy atmosphere. Days and nights blend into one for an endless summer filled with perfume and parties, producing a double-edged pace that has snap even while it lulls viewers into malaise. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra uses shadows to carve Ackie’s face, foretelling the angst she’ll feel when friends begin to disappear, gaps in her memory occur and an exoticized Indigenous woman calls her by another name.
The same lighting is used for Tatum, who looks more haggard than you’d expect. In a relatively underwritten role, he casts a surprising darkness over his crowd-pleasing romantic persona to a frightening effect. Women like Frida and Sarah (Adria Arjona) compete for Slater’s affections before finding solidarity in each other, a theme that is half-baked in the writing of Slater’s aloof sister Stacy (Geena Davis).
“Blink Twice” is haunted by lost opportunities. As a woman and survivor, Frida feels ignored. But Kravitz leaves the erasure that Black women feel untapped. She renders Frida similarly invisible, using a twist to erase any back story about her. What does it say that Frida looks for self-worth in the wealth of a white man? Ideas about cancel culture are similarly underbaked, reiterating that the public has a short attention span and eats up canned apologies. That collective forgetting is unevenly paralleled with the memory loss that occurs in instances of sexual assault.
After the film’s inevitable blood-soaked scream for revenge, it poses the idea that integrating into the same conniving capitalistic system that rendered its characters victims in the first place offers liberation for Frida. The film projects Black wealth as freedom and personhood, a cocoon that protects from persecution and is the best revenge. Like “Blink Twice,” it’s an idea that requires a double take. — NYT
Rather her film, for which she also wrote the screenplay with E.T. Feigenbaum, exists more as a concept than a complete idea. The same could be said of the film’s protagonist, Frida (Naomi Ackie). She pines for the lifestyle of the disgraced tech mogul Slater King, played by Channing Tatum, Kravitz’s partner.
Frida and her roommate, Jess (Alia Shawkat), work as servers at a gala — which allows the two women to switch into eye-catching dresses to mingle with the rich. When Frida snaps her heel, it’s Slater who helps her up, leading to a night of reverie culminating in an invite to his private island, where he has retreated after issuing a public apology for actions the film leaves relatively unknown.
For the tech mogul’s entourage, Kravitz has assembled an impressive cast: Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Haley Joel Osment and Levon Hawke. These men are meant to elicit dread, with an appetizing drink in hand. But only Slater King’s therapist, Rich (Kyle MacLachlan), knows how to play pleasantness as threatening.
Kravitz crafts an uneasy atmosphere. Days and nights blend into one for an endless summer filled with perfume and parties, producing a double-edged pace that has snap even while it lulls viewers into malaise. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra uses shadows to carve Ackie’s face, foretelling the angst she’ll feel when friends begin to disappear, gaps in her memory occur and an exoticized Indigenous woman calls her by another name.
The same lighting is used for Tatum, who looks more haggard than you’d expect. In a relatively underwritten role, he casts a surprising darkness over his crowd-pleasing romantic persona to a frightening effect. Women like Frida and Sarah (Adria Arjona) compete for Slater’s affections before finding solidarity in each other, a theme that is half-baked in the writing of Slater’s aloof sister Stacy (Geena Davis).
“Blink Twice” is haunted by lost opportunities. As a woman and survivor, Frida feels ignored. But Kravitz leaves the erasure that Black women feel untapped. She renders Frida similarly invisible, using a twist to erase any back story about her. What does it say that Frida looks for self-worth in the wealth of a white man? Ideas about cancel culture are similarly underbaked, reiterating that the public has a short attention span and eats up canned apologies. That collective forgetting is unevenly paralleled with the memory loss that occurs in instances of sexual assault.
After the film’s inevitable blood-soaked scream for revenge, it poses the idea that integrating into the same conniving capitalistic system that rendered its characters victims in the first place offers liberation for Frida. The film projects Black wealth as freedom and personhood, a cocoon that protects from persecution and is the best revenge. Like “Blink Twice,” it’s an idea that requires a double take. — NYT