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Good Fortune, this whimsical film by actor the director, is struggling in theaters. Many factors could account for the film's reception: Its generic title doesn't convey the movie's unique appeal. Its screenplay is often moralizing and heavy-handed with the messages. Its acting are uninspired and presentational, like the actors are reading dialogue straight from a script. Moreover, it arrives during an era of financial anxiety and inequality, which could make audiences less open to a story which suggests wealthy individuals enjoy all the benefits while those in need have spirit.

But, this is where Good Fortune stands out: The film is original, daring, creative, frequently humorous, and certainly relevant. Plus, it offers an unexpectedly enjoyable Keanu Reeves hangout experience.

Reeves in the role of Angel: A Familiar Portrayal

I have never considered Reeves to be a good performer. His monotonal delivery and persistent expression of mild perturbation has always felt one-note, regardless of the broad variety of characters he's taken on over the last four decades of his career. Astute filmmakers have cast him in roles in which that rigidity works ideally, including My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to the action series. Yet nearly every one of those characters required him to seem tough, distant, and removed.

In Good Fortune, Reeves portrays an angel, one low-level protecting angel assigned with watching over individuals that text while behind the wheel. The character's whole duty is remaining in his vehicles and lightly making contact with their arms when they are about to crash, warning them in order that they stop in time. But, while positioned high above his domain, gazing upon the mortal world like an alternative interpretation of the angel in Wim Wenders' renowned movie Wings of Desire, the character becomes ambitious. Gabriel desires to be an exceptional guardian and a savior of lost individuals.

The Surprising Shift: Keanu as a Human

Therefore, Gabriel reveals himself to struggling odd-jobber Arj (portrayed by the director), who's living in a vehicle and resenting his situation. The angel then exchanges the man with the existence of stupidly wealthy businessman Jeff (played by the comedian). The point of the exercise is for Arj would realize the wealthy man's life has significant drawbacks, and thankfully go back to his own life, similar to the figure from It's a Wonderful Life.

Issue is, Arj immediately discovers how Jeff's problems (boring appointments, a pricey pool-heater bill) are negligible and easily resolved with wealth. Arj further realizes how becoming rich opens up limitless opportunities for self-indulgent enjoyment. He shows zero desire in returning to his previous situation, and the angel can't compel him to return. Subsequently, additional bad news arrives: For exceeding his mandate and disrupting the balance of the world, the character loses his position as an celestial role, and turned to a mortal.

A Discovery: The Actor Smiles

Personally, I remained not persuaded by Reeves as an angel who has grand dreams and an intense desire to effect change. He turns in a familiar somewhat constipated acting he has been providing for no less than the past three decades. Viewing Reeves in the role of angel that has just become human initially, however, proved to be a blast, due to something which really surprised viewers initially: It's something new for the actor. Or perhaps to be precise, something from the past.

Soon during the character's baffling experience being a human, staying with the wealthy character (who the angel had swapped with Arj's precarious existence and underemployed status), Gabriel starts tentatively experimenting with human activities such as chewing and swallowing food. Then the actor smiles. Genuinely, hesitantly, joyously beams. (This is a lot much convincing than the smile shown in the poster, which looks digitally altered.)

Why This Smile Matters

The moment truly took me aback to realize just how surprising and refreshing that expression felt. When did we last audiences saw Keanu Reeves grin in a movie in which he was not expressing malice, irony, or resentment? The actor likely tries it somewhere in 2020's misbegotten Bill & Ted Face the Music, but I am not going to revisiting that disappointment to find out. Reeves has remained stuck with grim, murderous, introspective, or simply serious roles for so long that just seeing Reeves smile felt like observing a completely new performer.

As the plot progresses, the character finds himself having to take a dishwashing job, a role that fails to provide enough for survival, and he begins chain-smoking out of disappointment. Just the image of the actor in a cheap paper restaurant hat, with his recent trademark locks pulled back in a plain bun, leaning against a building and puffing on a smoke, is worthy of watching. His dishwasher attire completely changes his appearance and posture: Suddenly, the lean, well-dressed physical powerhouse of his famous movies is gawky, unglamorous, and a lot increasingly relatable.

A Pleasure of Viewing Keanu Relax

Good Fortune isn't consistently enjoyable to view, particularly when the director (who also authored the script) must find believable explanations for {Ar