Eddington Spiked My Blood Pressure

Nostalgic for 2020? Me neither. Except for one older couple, my friend and I were the only people in the theater for Eddington, and I think it's a shame that this movie hasn't gotten more publicity and raked in more money than it has, because it's a fiery political thriller with actual teeth. Perhaps some were afraid of being bitten, and having seen it now, I can empathize with that mindset, whether it be real or my own imagination. Only five years later, is it a little early for me to say that how we as a culture dealt with Covid was dramatic? If you don't believe me, go shopping and note that they actually have toilet paper stocking their shelves. Eddington has been labeled the first truly modern western, and though that statement is on some level hyperbolic, the sentiment is not entirely lost on me. I remember the whole to mask or not to mask fiasco. People ended friendships over it. And though I myself found those little pieces of cloth annoying, even more so when it became clear that young, healthy men like myself were in almost no danger of serious harm from the virus, I never spited any who behaved otherwise. I can empathize with wanting to keep loved ones safe, and if you thought of the virus as a legitimate threat to your families, I'd go so far as to praise you for your principle. Maybe my centrism is why I feel alone sometimes, because I keenly remember everyone absolutely losing their minds over this issue just as well as I imagine you do. It's an uncomfortable conversation to have, even today, and Eddington rubs your face in it. Strap in. I have a lot to unpack, and this review will be longer than usual. After all, it's really been five years coming.

Ari Aster built his reputation on crafting clever yet disturbing horror movies. If you've read my review for it, you'll know that Hereditary remains one of my favorite horror films ever made. And for months before its release, whispers arose from the corners of the internet that Eddington was a secret horror movie, that its version of Covid-19 was a zombie virus hiding underneath the wrapping of a political thriller. If that was you talking, then I'm sorry to burst your bubble, because one of the only ways Eddington is remotely close to what meets the eye is that it actually is about the Coronavirus and our real-world reaction to it. Regardless, it remains an uneasy experience. In short, the conservative sheriff Joe Cross of the tiny Eddington, New Mexico, is fed up with his liberal mayor, Ted Garcia, and his polices on handling Covid. Garcia's term is ending, so Cross challenges him for reelection - a venture that with time and patience (or extreme lack thereof) spirals wildly out of control into gloriously unhinged mayhem. I don't know if I can describe this carnage with mere words. Aster has an eye for horror, and from eerie, apocalyptically empty streets to uncanny and creepy recurring images of dolls and one triggering memory of a tumultuous time to another, Eddington is uncomfortable to watch in more ways than one.

Eddington is, mainly yet among other things, a satire. It's a painfully subtle one at that. For all intents and purposes, it merely repeats talking points of 2020 with minimal dress-up, and now that we've had five years to steep in the fallout of our mistakes as a society that year, both the conspiracy theories that preyed on our flourishing mistrust and the rabid insistence on masking with no exceptions seem utterly ridiculous. And because this movie doesn't seem interested in doing much else, it doubles, triples, and quadruples down on some really uncomfortable but necessarily painful satire. It's both pinpointedly condemning and subtly hilarious in all the right ways, like someone methodically hammering in a razor-sharp nail in just the right place over, and over, and over again. Delivering this satire impeccably is an utterly all-star cast. Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal both turn in subtle, uncomfortable performances as Cross and Garcia, respectively. Their inflammatory and petty chemistry is magnificent, and beyond even that, patient. Imagine with me that Eddington is a pot of water left unattended on the stovetop. You'll know it will boil over at some point, so the question is not if but when and, more importantly, how. Still, I was amazed at how quiet Eddington could be. It was interesting enough to hold my attention from divisive beginning to explosive end, yet restrained enough to feel entirely natural, brutally believable. If you have issues with high blood pressure, you may want to pass on this one.

Nevertheless, not everything about it works. Eddington is obviously interested in being an experience, and in doing so, it sometimes forgets that it's supposed to tell a story too, rather than merely stitch a collection of uncomfortably inflammatory and increasingly combative moments together with only the most barebones of narratives to hold it all together. Think of it like an ornate table missing one of its legs. It can still stand independently, and its decorations are beautiful, but something remains missing. Yet between a jaw-dropping tonal shift and a ferociously smart shootout setpiece, we're more than compensated. I wouldn't call this particular twist in tone horror per se, but its plausibility remains horrifying in ways that horror movies can't. Is this twist out of proportion? You bet. But man, is the sharp left turn of Eddington ever shocking. I audibly gasped in the theater, something I haven't done at a movie in a long time. Politically, I found this movie to be a conservative-aligned one - at least for the first hour-and-a-half. I promise you that Eddington is anything but one-sided, managing to become a far more nuanced film than it initially lets on. It blossoms slowly like some poisonous flower, because while it's content to satirize and ridicule the left, the prevailing political influencer of 2020, it's more comfortable villainizing the right. It's not that this knife cuts both ways so much as it knows how to cut in more ways than one.

I would say this for the dude-bros out there wondering if Eddington will stroke their adrenal glands. Be patient, because what starts as a slow burn eventually turns into anything but. There is some shooting in this movie, and I'm thankful it waited as long as it did to pull this particular card. The big shootout setpiece of Eddington is one of the best I've ever seen in a movie, an unholy blend of claustrophobically low visibility and startling sound design. Bullets WHIZ and ZIP past from every direction, but against the dark backdrop of a small New Mexico town at night, it's impossible to tell where from. The sound of rounds whipping into the ground nearby will probably appear in my dreams, and I want to applaud Paul Hsu, his sound team, and their phenomenal work on this scene in particular. This movie is not what you think it is. It will not end how you think it will. Don't let its slow burn turn you off; let it happen to you. The fuse is long, but this movie eventually explodes like a stick of dynamite. You'll want to brace for impact.

I won't and don't understate it: quite simply, Eddington is bananas. Does its ambition outrun its capability? Absolutely. Nevertheless, I respect it for being an honest political thriller with enough guts to run the risk of making no one happy for the sake of its goals. It jumps from scathing satire to shocking violence in unexpected and ferocious ways, and I'll say it once more for the sake of those thinking about watching this in theaters - please, take any preconceived notions about or expectations of this film, and unceremoniously stamp them underfoot until you're ready to let Eddington happen to you. Let the violence happen to you. Let the satire happen to you. Let the bad memories of 2020 happen to you, as well. This movie rubs your face in both time-bound Covid hysteria and timeless division in ways that feel like ripping off a scab. It may not be a horror movie, as some were theorizing before its release, but Eddington is horrifying in a different way. It's frightening because of its gleeful willingness to soak in the logical conclusion of last-man-standing tribalism. The question is not if us-versus-them will turn violent. The question is when. And once again, how. It's not because of demons, zombies, or any of the things we theorized for months before this film actually released. We ourselves are our own worst enemy, a far more terrifying villain than anything our imaginations could cook up. Some may call it cliche. Some may complain that it doesn't necessarily say anything new. But does its repetition of still-white-hot talking points matter if we didn't get the message the first time, anyway?

Eddington - 8/10

1 Corinthians 13:1-7