Comedy is tragedy combined with time. There may come a moment when critics will regard Ari Aster’s COVID-19 humor Eddington in a more positive light. Yet, merely five years after the pandemic prompted worldwide lockdowns, we continue to grapple with the stark truths stemming not only from the catastrophe that took millions of lives but also from the escalating divide in American politics with troubling ramifications. Observing film stars make jokes about face masks, conspiracy theories, and political disputes? Currently, it’s hardly entertaining. It’s primarily irritating.
Kudos to Aster for his continuous bravery. The writer/director caused quite a stir with his audacious debut Hereditary, then cemented his reputation as a filmmaker worth following with the eerie sequel Midsommar, which propelled Florence Pugh into the limelight. He then astonished audiences (and reviewers) with Beau Is Afraid, starring Academy Award winner Joaquin Phoenix in an extended anxiety-driven narrative that transcended genre and culminated in the grand disclosure of a colossal penis monster.
In Eddington, Aster collaborates once more with Phoenix, who again portrays an anti-hero characterized more by his flaws than his strengths. This time, the punchline does not hinge on maternal issues or social apprehension. Instead, the film set in New Mexico critiques both ends of the political spectrum. However, rather than achieving balance or being particularly humorous, the outcome is a film that might be perceived as a wild adventure if it successfully found resolution. Instead, it emerges as a baffling conundrum that comes off more self-satisfied than incisive.
Joaquin Phoenix is a right-wing fool in Eddington.
At first sight, Joe Cross (Phoenix) embodies a recognizable American archetype, complete with his white hat, cowboy boots, and sheriff’s badge. He’s a lawman battling the wrongs of a chaotic world devoid of decency. In Westerns, he’d be the protagonist, but Aster gradually subverts this American symbol, both visually and contextually in this Western/thriller/comedy. For instance, Joe is first seen patrolling an area beyond his jurisdiction on tribal land, leading to an encounter with Native American police, who reprimand him for trespassing and for not wearing a face mask (both officers are masked).
On one side, Joe is alone in a vehicle, so donning a face mask appears unnecessary, even ludicrous. Nonetheless, Joe persists with the masking debate, knowingly making his neighbors uneasy as he enters a grocery store where everyone is masked and observing a six-foot distance. His anger over what he sees as an infringement on his freedom prompts him to embark on a chaotic campaign against the esteemed Eddington mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal). Yet, as Aster reveals more about Joe, it becomes increasingly evident that the mask isn’t about freedom, but about Joe asserting control wherever possible to assert his masculinity.
At home, Joe is belittled by his cruel mother-in-law (Deirdre O’Connell) and barely recognized by his despondent wife, Louise (Emma Stone). At his job, he shrinks in the shadow of the respected sheriff who came before him, also his deceased father-in-law. Unable to meet the expectations set by the specter of the man who haunts him both personally and professionally, Joe turns his ire toward Ted Garcia.
Joe targets Ted not just because the mayor outshines him in popularity, but also because Ted is Louise’s former partner. Joe seethes with jealousy over their shared history, which he envisions as scandalous. All of this propels Joe down a trajectory reminiscent of the Coen Brothers with its putrid Americana and self-sabotage. But whether he’s creating hasty campaign posters