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Good Fortune, the fantasy film by comedian the director, is struggling at the box office. Many reasons could account for the film's performance: Its generic title fails to express the movie's distinctive charm. The screenplay can be preachy and obvious regarding its messages. The acting are uninspired and staged, as if the actors were reading dialogue straight from the page. And, it arrives during an era marked by economic anxiety and disparity, that could make viewers less receptive to a story which implies wealthy people enjoy all the advantages while the poor have spirit.

But, here's where Good Fortune stands out: It's original, daring, creative, often funny, and certainly timely. And, it offers an unexpectedly enjoyable the actor character-driven movie.

Keanu Reeves as an Angel: His Typical Portrayal

I have not regarded Reeves a good actor. The actor's monotonal speaking style and consistent look of mild concern have always felt one-note, regardless of the broad variety of roles he's played during the last 40 of his career. Astute filmmakers have placed Reeves in roles in which that rigidity fits perfectly, from his early work to The Matrix to the action series. Yet almost all of these roles called for him to seem hardened, distant, or detached.

Throughout the film, Reeves plays Gabriel, a low-level protecting celestial being assigned with watching over people that text when driving. The character's whole duty is sitting in his vehicles and gently touching the drivers' shoulders when they are close to crash, alerting the person in order that the driver stop in time. However, while standing overlooking the city, gazing on the mortal world like a version of a celestial figure in the director's renowned film Wings of Desire, Gabriel becomes aspirational. He desires to be an exceptional protector and a savior of wayward individuals.

A Unexpected Turn: Keanu as a Mortal

Therefore, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (portrayed by the director), who is residing out of a vehicle and resenting his situation. Gabriel proceeds to exchanges the man with the existence of extremely rich tech mogul Jeff (played by the comedian). The point of the exercise was for the character to understand Jeff's existence has major downsides, and gratefully return to his original life, much like a character in It's a Wonderful Life.

Problem is, the character right away realizes that the mogul's problems (boring meetings, a pricey heating invoice) are negligible and readily solved using wealth. Arj also realizes that being rich provides limitless chances for pleasurable fun. He shows zero desire in returning to his own life, and the angel can't compel him to return. Subsequently, more bad news arrives: Because of overstepping his mandate and messing with the balance of existence, Gabriel loses his position from his celestial job, and transformed to a human being.

A Discovery: The Actor Grins

I was not convinced by Reeves as an angel who has grand aspirations and an intense desire to effect change. He turns in the same somewhat constipated acting he's consistently offering for at least the past three ten-year periods. Watching him in the role of celestial being that has just become mortal for the first time, however, proved to be a blast, for a reason which really astonished me initially: It's something different for the actor. Or perhaps more accurately, something old.

Early during his confusing experience as a human, staying with Jeff (whom Gabriel exchanged into the handyman's hand-to-mouth life and underemployed status), the character starts tentatively experimenting with human experiences such as chewing and swallowing food. Then the actor smiles. Genuinely, cautiously, happily smiles. (It's a lot more convincing than his grin shown in the promotional image, that looks digitally altered.)

Why That Grin Is Significant

The moment really surprised me to recognize just how unexpected and welcome the smile was. At what point did we last we observed the actor grin in a film where he was not showing malice, sarcasm, or resentment? He probably attempts a smile somewhere in the recent ill-conceived the sequel, but I am not going to revisiting the disappointment to confirm. The actor has remained typecast with grim, violent, introspective, or just solemn characters for so long that merely watching him smile felt like observing an entirely new performer.

While the story progresses, the character ends up needing to get a dishwashing position, a role that fails to provide enough to live on, and Gabriel begins chain-smoking out of disappointment. Just the image of Reeves in a disposable plastic food-service hat, with his late-career signature long hair tied in an unglamorous bun, leaning against a building and puffing on a cigarette, is worth the price of admission. His dishwasher attire completely changes his face and posture: Unexpectedly, the slim, suited physical powerhouse of the John Wick films becomes gawky, ordinary, and much more relatable.

The Joy of Viewing Reeves Loosen Up

The film is not consistently fun to view, particularly when the director (that also wrote the screenplay) has to create plausible explanations for {Ar