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Good Fortune, the whimsical comedy from comedian the director, has been facing challenges in theaters. Many factors could account for the film's reception: Its generic title doesn't express its film's distinctive appeal. The script is often moralizing and heavy-handed with the messages. Its performances seem flat and staged, like the actors are reciting lines directly from a script. Moreover, it arrives at a time of financial uncertainty and inequality, that could make viewers not very receptive to a narrative that suggests wealthy people enjoy every advantages while the poor possess heart.

However, here's what Good Fortune excels: The film is original, bold, imaginative, often humorous, and undoubtedly relevant. Plus, it offers a great the actor character-driven experience.

Reeves in the role of Guardian: A Familiar Portrayal

Personally, I've never considered Reeves to be a good performer. His monotonal speaking style and consistent look of mild concern have always felt limited, regardless of his broad variety of characters he's taken on over the past four decades years. Smart directors have often cast Reeves in roles where that stoic nature fits perfectly, from his early work to The Matrix to the action series. Yet almost all of these roles required him to seem hardened, distant, and detached.

In the film, the actor plays an angel, a minor protecting angel assigned with watching over people that use their phones while behind the wheel. The character's entire duty involves remaining in their vehicles and gently making contact with the drivers' shoulders as they're about to crash, warning them in order that they brake in time. But, while standing overlooking his domain, looking down on humanity similar to an alternative version of a celestial figure in Wim Wenders' renowned movie Wings of Desire, Gabriel gets aspirational. He wants to be a great guardian and a savior of lost individuals.

A Unexpected Shift: Reeves Playing a Mortal

So, Gabriel presents himself to struggling handyman Arj (portrayed by the director), who is living in a vehicle and resenting his situation. The angel proceeds to swaps Arj into the existence of stupidly wealthy businessman Jeff (played by the comedian). The idea of the exercise was for Arj to understand Jeff's existence comes with significant drawbacks, and thankfully go back to his own circumstances, similar to a figure from It's a Wonderful Life.

Issue was, the character immediately discovers that the mogul's problems (boring meetings, expensive pool-heater invoice) prove negligible and readily solved using wealth. Arj also sees how being affluent provides limitless chances for self-indulgent fun. He has no desire in going back to his own life, and Gabriel is unable to force Arj to return. Subsequently, additional trouble comes: Because of overstepping his mandate and messing with the order of existence, Gabriel loses his position as an celestial job, and transformed into a mortal.

The Discovery: Keanu Reeves Grins

I was never persuaded by the actor as an angel who has grand dreams and a burning desire to effect change. Reeves turns in the same vaguely constipated acting he's consistently offering for no less than the past three decades. Watching Reeves in the role of celestial being that has just turned mortal for the first time, on the other hand, was a blast, for a reason which really astonished me at first: It's something new for the actor. Or more accurately, an aspect from the past.

Soon into the character's confusing career as a human, staying with the wealthy character (who Gabriel exchanged into Arj's hand-to-mouth existence and underemployed status), Gabriel starts tentatively trying out human experiences such as eating and consuming meals. And Reeves smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously smiles. (This is far more convincing than the smile on the promotional image, which looks digitally altered.)

The Reason This Grin Matters

It really surprised me to realize just how unexpected and welcome the expression felt. At what point did we last audiences observed the actor grin in a film in which he wasn't expressing ill will, irony, or resentment? The actor likely attempts a smile somewhere in the recent misbegotten Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I am not revisiting that disappointment to find out. Reeves has remained typecast with serious, violent, broody, or just serious roles for such a duration that just seeing Reeves grin felt like seeing a completely different performer.

As the plot goes on, Gabriel ends up needing to get a dishwashing job, which fails to provide sufficient to live on, and Gabriel begins smoking heavily out of frustration. Simply the image of Reeves in a disposable paper restaurant cap, his recent signature locks tied in an unglamorous bun, slouching against a wall and smoking a smoke, proves worth the price of admission. The dishwasher attire totally changes his face and posture: Suddenly, the lean, suited physical powerhouse of the John Wick movies is gawky, unglamorous, and much increasingly human.

A Joy of Watching Keanu Loosen Up

The film isn't consistently fun to view, especially when the director (that additionally authored the screenplay) must create plausible reasons for {Ar