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Good Fortune, the fantasy comedy by actor the director, is struggling in theaters. Several factors may explain the film's reception: The uninspired title doesn't convey the film's distinctive charm. The screenplay can be moralizing and obvious with its themes. The acting are flat and staged, as if the actors are reciting lines directly from the page. Moreover, it arrives at a time marked by financial uncertainty and disparity, that could make audiences less receptive to a story that suggests rich individuals have every benefits while those in need possess heart.

However, here's what Good Fortune stands out: It's unique, bold, creative, frequently humorous, and certainly relevant. And, it provides an unexpectedly great Keanu Reeves character-driven experience.

Keanu Reeves in the role of Guardian: His Typical Portrayal

I have never regarded Reeves to be a good performer. The actor's flat delivery and persistent look of mild concern has consistently seemed one-note, despite the wide range of characters he's taken on during the past four decades years. Astute filmmakers have placed Reeves in roles where his rigidity fits perfectly, including his early work to The Matrix to the action series. Yet almost all of those roles called for Reeves to seem hardened, distant, and detached.

Throughout Good Fortune, the actor plays Gabriel, one minor guardian celestial being assigned with watching over people that text while behind the wheel. The character's whole duty involves sitting in his vehicles and lightly making contact with their shoulders when they are close to have an accident, warning them in order that the driver brake before impact. But, while standing overlooking the city, gazing upon the mortal world like an alternative interpretation of the angel from the director's renowned film Wings of Desire, Gabriel gets ambitious. Gabriel desires to become an exceptional protector and rescuer of lost individuals.

The Surprising Shift: Reeves as a Mortal

So, he presents himself to down-and-out odd-jobber a character (portrayed by the director), who is residing out of his car and resenting his life. Gabriel then swaps Arj with the existence of extremely wealthy businessman Jeff (acted by the comedian). The idea behind the exercise is that Arj would realize the wealthy man's life has major downsides, and thankfully return to his original circumstances, similar to the character in the classic film.

Issue was, the character immediately realizes that Jeff's problems (tedious appointments, expensive pool-heater invoice) prove minor and readily solved using money. He further sees that becoming rich provides limitless chances for self-indulgent fun. The character has zero interest in returning to his own life, and the angel is unable to compel Arj to return. Subsequently, more bad news comes: For exceeding his mandate and messing with the balance of the world, Gabriel is fired from his celestial role, and turned to a human being.

A Discovery: The Actor Smiles

Personally, I remained not convinced by Reeves as an angel who has grand aspirations and an intense wish to make a difference. Reeves turns in a familiar vaguely constipated acting he's consistently offering for at least the last 3 decades. Viewing him as an celestial being who's just turned human for the first time, on the other hand, proved to be highly entertaining, for a reason which truly surprised viewers at first: This is an element new for the actor. Or more accurately, an aspect from the past.

Soon during his baffling experience as a human, staying with the wealthy character (who the angel had swapped into the handyman's precarious life and jobless situation), the character begins hesitantly experimenting with human experiences such as chewing and consuming meals. Then the actor grins. Genuinely, hesitantly, happily smiles. (This is far much believable than his grin on the poster, that appears artificially added.)

Why This Smile Matters

The moment really took me aback to realize how unexpected and refreshing the smile was. At what point did we last audiences saw the actor grin in a film where he was not expressing ill will, sarcasm, or bitterness? He likely attempts it somewhere in the recent ill-conceived Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I am not going to returning to the mess to find out. The actor has remained stuck with serious, murderous, introspective, or simply solemn roles for such a duration that just watching him grin felt like observing a completely new performer.

While the plot goes on, Gabriel finds himself having to take a kitchen position, a role that doesn't pay sufficient for survival, and Gabriel begins smoking heavily due to disappointment. Simply the sight of the actor in a disposable plastic food-service cap, his late-career signature locks pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, leaning on a wall and smoking a cigarette, is worth watching. The dishwasher attire completely alters his face and posture: Unexpectedly, the lean, well-dressed action star of his famous movies is gawky, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly relatable.

The Pleasure of Viewing Reeves Relax

Good Fortune is not always enjoyable to view, especially when Ansari (who additionally authored the script) must find plausible reasons for {Ar