Blink Twice (2024)

Score: 4 / 5

A surprise from start to finish, Zoë Kravitz's directorial debut appeared on the scene with almost no warning for me (though my life has been a bit chaotic of late, so I may have missed the fanfare). I had no idea what I was in for, and that might have been the best way to enter this sleek, smart film. As such, the rest of this will be spoiler-heavy, so suffice it to say for anyone interested: it's a magnificent puzzle-box of a film, deceptively simple and dangerously devious. As funny as it is troubling, this should appeal to anyone who likes shows like White Lotus and Nine Perfect Strangers, and it features some top-notch performances from Naomi Ackie and Channing Tatum.

Okay, into the meat of it. Slater King (Tatum), a tech billionaire and hunky playboy, apologizes virtually for some manner of offense or indiscretion. No context is given, and it's about as vague as... well, one in real life might be. All that's clear is that it's unmentionable on television, and surely involves his power having been abused and leaked to the public. Soon after, he hosts a gala, and we're brought in by two best friends, Frida (Ackie) and Jess (Alia Shawkat), working as cocktail waiters. Frida has the hots for King -- who wouldn't -- and halfway through the event, they slip into formal wear and ditch their posts, determined to have fun at the swanky soiree. They don't exactly blend in at the exclusive event, and King all but sniffs them out; rather than outing them, he appears to court Frida. By evening's end -- actually, I think it's dawn -- he invites them and a few other friends to his private island for a vacation away from observation and duties. It could be the setup of a romantic comedy, one about class and race and prejudice and being a fish out of water.

It's not.

His entourage of hedonistic and chauvinistic friends (including Simon Rex, Christian Slater, and Haley Joel Osment) have all brought young women as well (including Adria Arjona, Trew Mullen, and Liz Caribel), and their phones are all collected by Slater's neurotic and longsuffering personal assistant and sister (Geena Davis). They are to have the time of their lives, completely disconnected from the outside world as they indulge in all manner of vices on the picturesque, Edenic island. Dressed in oddly similar white gowns, the girls are put up in fancy shacks in a row and encouraged to bond like flower power daughters of the earth. They are fed a constant stream of gourmet food in elaborate meals, bottomless champagne with ripe raspberries to spare, and weed and drugs for all day, every day. The days quickly blend together in masterfully constructed montages that slowly suggest something is terribly, horribly wrong here.

It's a refreshingly straightforward film thematically, and it has a significant bone to pick with rich white men who play nice. What's even more refreshing is Kravitz's mastery of tone, deftly harnessing the lilting romantic fantasy with comedic absurdity even as she sprinkles in dark foreshadowing. There came a point when you are well aware that bad things are happening, but even I wasn't prepared for the depravity this film would showcase. And showcase it does: when the curtain is pulled back, finally -- after many brief shocks and jolts of images as memories come flashing back to our female protagonists -- we're forced to witness one of the most monstrous sequences of violence and cruelty I can remember seeing in a film that isn't at all marketed as a horror film. If The Stepford Wives had a feminist baby still angry about #MeToo with Lord of the Flies, it might look something like this. Nothing prepares you for the brutality in store, but it's not all about the visuals or the plot; thematically, the film's seeming red herrings coalesce into a heady tapestry of symbols -- not unlike what we still discuss about, for example, in Jordan Peele's three (so far) horror films -- that should spark lots of varied conversation afterward. Snakes, flowers, the color red, dirt. Pick your poison.

Exploitation films don't happen much anymore, but this one arguably resurrects the genre, and that, too, would be an interesting conversation. I was reminded more than once of Buoyancy, especially in the film's fiery, violent climax, and the empowerment in this kind of conflict is finally becoming more mainstream both in and out of horror. It's a welcome change from the tired tropes of our heroes not being able or willing to "double tap" or enact their own violence. And then, in case we were getting too down in the dumps -- which is fair, because I'd categorize this as one of the most disturbing films I've seen in some time -- Kravitz leaps forward, in an oddly tacked-on epilogue, to remind us that it is indeed a fantasy comedy. Just in case anyone was worried about their own complicity or culpability. It's all just a movie. Right?

*An additional note: This might be the first movie I've seen theatrically that features a content warning in advance. While ordinarily I personally dislike this (because audiences should do their own homework about triggers before going to see art, which should also not censor itself), here I found it important because the film's marketing in no way prepared me for the horrors in store. It does kind of spoil the revelatory twist, but it should at least warn anyone who, like me, went in expecting a Fantasy Island rom-com with maybe some troubling drama. This is so much more intense than anyone could have anticipated.