Comedy is tragedy plus time. There may be a day when critics look back on Ari Aster’s COVID-19 comedy Eddington with kinder eyes. However, just five years after this virus threw the world into lockdown, we are still living in the brutal realities created not only by the pandemic that killed millions but also further polarized American politics to horrifying results. So, watching movie stars crack wise about face masks, conspiracy theories, and political rivalries? Right now, it’s not funny. It’s mostly irritating.
Props to Aster for his continued fearlessness. The writer/director broke through with his daring debut feature Hereditary, then cemented his reputation as an American filmmaker to watch with its chilling follow-up Midsommar, which in turn helped launch Florence Pugh to stardom. Then, he threw his fans (and critics) for a loop with Beau Is Afraid, which starred Academy Award–winner Joaquin Phoenix in a prolonged anxiety attack of a movie that skewed genre and concluded with the epic revelation of a giant penis monster.
For Eddington, Aster reteams with Phoenix, who once more plays an anti-hero gripped by his failings instead of his virtues. But this time, the punchline isn’t one of mommy issues or social anxiety. Instead, the New Mexico-set Eddington pokes fun of both sides of the political divide. But far from being even-handed or even all that funny, the result is a movie that might be seen as a wild ride if it nailed the landing. Instead, it’s a wonky head-scratcher that feels more smug than sharp.
Joaquin Phoenix is a right-wing clown in Eddington.
Joaquin Phoenix plays Sheriff Joe Cross in “Eddington.”
Credit: A24
At a glance, Joe Cross (Phoenix) is a familiar American archetype, with his white hat, cowboy boots, and sheriff’s badge. He’s a lawman who fights against the injustices of a wild world that knows no decency. In Westerns, he’d be the good guy, except Aster steadily undercuts this American icon, both visually and contextually in this Western/thriller/comedy. For instance, Joe is introduced patrolling an area that’s outside his jurisdiction on tribal ground, sparking a confrontation with the Native American police, who chastise Joe for trespassing and for breaking the mandate by not wearing a face mask (both tribal officers are masked).
On one hand, Joe’s sitting alone in a car. So, yeah, wearing a face mask is unnecessary, even absurd. But Joe will continue to push the masking issue, knowingly making his neighbors uncomfortable as he strides into a grocery store where everyone is masked and keeping a six-foot distance from each other. His frustration over what he sees as an attack on his freedom even sparks him to begin a haphazard campaign against the beloved Eddington mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal). But the more Aster reveals about Joe, the more it’s clear the mask is not about freedom, but about Joe asserting dominance wherever he can, so he can feel like a man.
At home, Joe is emasculated by his vicious mother-in-law (Deirdre O’Connell) and barely acknowledged by his depressed wife, Louise (Emma Stone). At work, he cowers in the shadow of the admired sheriff who came before, who happens to have been his late father-in-law. Unable to live up to the ghost of the man who haunts him figuratively in his personal and professional life, Joe picks another target for his wrath: Ted Garcia.
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Joe chooses Ted not only because the mayor is more well-liked than he, but also because Ted is Louise’s ex. Joe burns with jealousy over their shared past, which he imagines as scandalous. All of this leads Joe down a path that feels vaguely Coen Bros.-esque in its rancid Americana and self-destruction. But whether he makes hasty campaign posters with embarrassing misspellings or dives into the violent fantasy of being an American action hero through bonkers and abrupt battle scenes, Joe is unquestionably a clown.
Though the protagonists of Hereditary, Midsommar, and Beau Is Afraid were deeply flawed, Aster also found room for us to relate to their heartache and anxieties. We were as scared as they were, or even more scared for them than they could be for themselves. Joe, however, is not richly developed or relatable. He’s a vexing sketch of the anti-masker movement and all its toxic masculinity and privilege. Pushing this symbolism past its breaking point, Aster also wedges in subplots where Joe must deal with the online conspiracy theories about child exploitation and a flurry of Black Lives Matters protests organized by a local white girl (Amélie Hoeferle), who is often on the verge of tears.
The criticism is uneven and shallow in Eddington.
Emma Stone and Deirdre O’Connell play daughter and mother in “Eddington.”
Credit: A24
In a Q&A for press following a screening of Eddington, Aster expressed his hope that the film would speak to both sides of the political divide. He further noted the final act — which features a prolonged shootout — could read totally differently depending on what side of the divide you’re on. But frankly, he misreads his audience. The film is not that textured. The climax, chaotic and grisly, is shocking, but not awing.
Joe and his family offers plenty of opportunities to mock the right for their anti-masking attitudes, Pizzagate conspiracies, and general “fuck your feelings” MAGA attitude — though Aster tries to have it both ways by not using such explicit buzzwords. By contrast, Mayor Garcia is a gentle lampoon of liberal politicians. Where Joe is stern, speaking like he’s spitting, Ted is determinedly soft-spoken, and listens to Katy Perry while entertaining. (“Firework,” naturally.) In a promotional video for his campaign, Ted reenacts a tragic personal memory to win sympathy, then inexplicably plays piano in the middle of Eddington’s dirt roads. It’s a gentle ribbing of quirky political ads. But even as Aster mocks the virtue signaling of the left through a subplot about Ted’s son (Matt Gomez Hidaka) using political patter to impress the aforementioned female protester, the barbs feel like a nudge instead of a punchline.
Perhaps this is because both sides of the argument, as Aster presents them here, just aren’t equally worth mocking. Maybe that’s because the foibles of one side lead to cringe moments, while the other might lead to death and disaster. But for a runtime of two hours and 28 minutes, Aster doesn’t uncover anything all that deep or surprising about this divide beyond how dangerous it can be. Neither side will learn much new about themselves or their perceived opponents by watching Eddington. It’s hard to say if more time would make a difference.
While the cast is committed to Aster’s vision of this New Mexico town, the depth is lacking. That a cop has a thirst for control, that a smiling politician has a dark side, that a depressed woman has a hidden heartache — none of this is a surprise. Yet Eddington treats each reveal with a ghoulish giddiness, as if they’re all deeply transgressive. The result is a movie that feels passionate, but is ultimately shallow and messy.
Far from the thriller its trailers suggest, Eddington is a cynical dark comedy that mistakes empathy for weakness, offering plenty to react to but little to provoke thought.
Eddington opens in theaters on July 18.
