Director: Zoë Kravitz
Writers: Zoë Kravitz, E.T. Feigenbaum
Stars: Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum, Alia Shawkat
Synopsis: When tech billionaire Slater King meets cocktail waitress Frida at his fundraising gala, he invites her to join him and his friends on a dream vacation on his private island. As strange things start to happen, Frida questions her reality.
You know where Blink Twice is going. There aren’t going to be many who go to this film that don’t understand exactly where this film is headed within the opening minutes. It isn’t the large, sustained trigger warning at the top of the film, which is necessary and appreciated, it’s that the fantasy is too good to be true.
The scariest piece of Zoë Kravitz and E.T. Feigenbaum’s story isn’t its climax, though that’s an unease of its own ilk, but that Blink Twice is a startlingly plausible plot for a rom-com. You have the billionaire who meets the waitress sneaking into the event he’s hosting. The two of them have a sort of meet-cute. A rivalry with another woman is inflamed. A bestie who is game and encouraging comes along for the ride. Glamorous and exotic pampering, the likes of which these two working class women have never seen, abound. Fun, sun, lots of sexual tension, and adorable glances build the romance of our heroine’s dreams. We have built an industry to convince people that love is a snap of the fingers. Kravitz and Feigenbaum are here to disabuse us of that fantasy.
Their script unfolds like a person noticing a scab on otherwise perfect skin. They try to ignore it, but something about its existence begs to be probed. The scab has to be picked and once the seal is broken, the blood seeps forth. The scab is in the background of this rom-com setup. It takes a decidedly unrom-com moment for that blood to come forth. Once it does and all hell breaks loose, the film goes toward its conclusion, which is where it suffers.
You know where Blink Twice is going, or rather, where it’s been. For the majority of the film, Kravitz and editor Kathryn J. Schubert alter time. There are jump and smash cuts to pull us forward and backward, but never fully grounding us in a known present, just an assumed one. The sound design by Jon Flores also comes into play as what we hear throughout takes on new meanings. It’s a way to keep us guessing, but the problem is we already know. We’ve figured it out and while it’s still filled with palpable tension, there is a noticeable drag on the story as the characters figuring things out becomes tedious until the film reaches its inevitable crossroads.
Blink Twice has all of these elements that build toward the inevitability of its final direction, but the charm of Channing Tatum as Slater King challenges all our notions. It’s quite a heel turn for Tatum. He’s an irresistible on screen persona and to see him not let loose, but to so easily and naturally slip into the skin of a demon, is harrowing. As King, he smiles and makes you feel as if you’re the only person in the world. His charm is the mask that covers a deeply disturbed man. Tatum is enthralling as he becomes repulsive.
There are a great deal of close ups in the film, which play on the themes of the masks these people are wearing on this trip. Kravitz and cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra feature Frida’s (Naomi Ackie) face a great deal. We see every inch of it, from profile to below, above and straight on. It gives us an understanding of Frida’s moods, her emotions, and triggers. We see the full gamut of Frida’s experience and we see her face so we can’t forget it. We can’t forget her infatuation with Slater King, her love of Jess (Alia Shawkat), or her horror as she remembers everything.
Blink Twice is a film that’s not easy to forget. It’s a film that not only condemns abusers, but those that do nothing or let it go on because there’s no changing it. It’s a film with a conclusion that mileage may vary depending on which way a person feels about how someone should try and move forward after coming to terms with their trauma. Blink Twice takes on a heavy topic in a genre way, but fails to build to the depth its premise promises. It’s not as empty as Slater King’s apology video at the beginning of the film, but it tries very hard to be clever when it’s really playing with its cards facing the audience.
