Zoë Kravitz shows off her cinephile chops with familiar, entertaining social thriller Blink Twice

It can be a misstep when certain tiers of the elite attempt to solve class dynamics in their art—such as when a director who descends from the British elite makes a satire about a poor person overtaking his rich friend’s family castle. It never bodes well when a child of not just wealth but also Hollywood birthright wants to attempt to unlock the interwoven layers of inequality and privilege, venturing to solve the puzzle themselves. Blink Twice, the directorial debut of Zoë Kravitz, daughter of Lenny Kravitz and Lisa Bonet though now quite famous in her own right, initially professes those uncomfortable shades of Riches v. Poors: What Does It All Mean? And while there is some mostly unremarked upon tensions between the social standings—a billionaire playboy and his friends, and the vulnerable working-class women they ensnare—I was not not impressed at how Kravitz intelligently avoids tackling the money problem, and instead sets her sights on the gender problem.

The results don’t reinvent the wheel, but Kravitz’s entertaining debut in the director’s chair, not overly ambitious but still commendable, proves that Kravitz isn’t just an avid cinephile: she has the skills to make something herself. Still, she’s burdened by the impulse to make a movie “about something,” co-writing a familiar-feeling script with E.T. Feigenbaum. Maybe that’s Kravitz’s voracious appetite for films coming through—the plot is an amalgam of at least five different movies (off the top of my head, The Most Dangerous Game and Groundhog Day come through). But Blink Twice nevertheless manages to be surprising without overextending its grasp like so many big-brained puzzle-box movies are wont to do.

Kravitz casts her fiancée Channing Tatum as the formerly embattled billionaire CEO Slater King, whose vague “abuses of power” at his company forced him to take a step back from the title and the limelight. Now, he’s returned and atoned, signing checks for charity and spending quality quiet time on his personal private island. He meets Frida (Naomi Ackie) at a gala event she’s working as a cocktail waitress alongside her roommate and best friend, Jess (Alia Shawkat).

Frida has a strange, inexplicable fixation on the wealthy, “canceled” man. I don’t know a single woman my age who thirsts after billionaires, but it’s much more easily rationalized with an actor who looks like Tatum playing the role, instead of a socially inept goblin with a Napoleon complex. Still, Frida seems a little too self-aware to fall for Slater’s act; she lashes out at Jess for giving her ex-boyfriend another shot. A woman of contradictions or merely an ill-conceived character? Hard to say. But Tatum is stellar at selling Slater’s snake oil, and who wouldn’t instantly melt if a guy who looked like Channing Tatum flashed them a smile?

And Slater does more than that for Frida: After she and Jess do themselves up and sneak into the gala to cosplay as rich, Frida slips and falls, only to look up and see Slater as her knight in shining armor. He then shops her and Jess around to his buddies, Cody (Simon Rex), Vic (Christian Slater), and Tom (Haley Joel Osment), and his therapist (Kyle MacLachlan). The group gets on well enough that the night ends with the two waitresses promptly shuttled off on a private jet to Slater’s island. But they aren’t the only women coming along on the trip. They’re accompanied by three others with vague connections to the gang: Camilla (Liz Caribel), Heather (Trew Mullin), and Sarah (Adria Arjona), the latter a star from Survivor who seems reluctant to befriend the other women, preferring the attention of Slater.

The old maxim “if it seems too good to be true, it probably is” fits the island atmosphere. Frida and Jess find identical outfits for one another laid out on their beds, as if their arrival had been expected. But it’s hard to feel ill at ease in the presence of shimmering pool waters, scrumptious cuisine, mind-altering drugs, and limitless time for rest and relaxation. Even the creepy stereotype of a housekeeper tasked with gutting the glut of venomous snakes that proliferate the island and the outdoor shed housing uncanny display cases of identical red gift bags can’t quite ruin Frida’s good vibes. That’s before it starts to devolve into what appears to be a time loop. It’s not that Frida is necessarily stuck in a purgatory that resets every time she goes to sleep, it’s that it feels like she is. The repetitiveness of each day begins getting to her, as do the gaps in memory and in logic—like a stain on her white dress that disappears the next morning. Ackie’s malleable expressiveness and large, wild eyes push Frida’s progressive paranoia. Frida knows something is wrong, though not quite sure in what way, until it’s Jess who disappears rather than a stain, and nobody can seem to remember that she was ever even there.

It’s here that the girlboss of it all kicks in, with Sarah confronting Frida with proof of Jess’ existence. Sarah sets her initial hostility towards Frida and the other women aside, and the two join forces to figure out what the fuck is going on on Boys Island—funnily enough, the film’s original title was Pussy Island, although it’s a bit of a giveaway of the film’s droll yet blanketly horrifying climax. Kravitz and Feigenbaum deliver blunt-force, superficial social commentary that isn’t overly self-serious or didactic, though there’s a bit of head-scratching, cognitive dissonance in a film about the abuses of men that casts an actor accused of domestic abuse in a supporting role. Then again, Blink Twice doesn’t really traffic in nuance, and concludes on a note that’s more rudimentary female empowerment/wish fulfillment, even if it is a little funny and even satisfying.

While too many other modern films have brazenly, and unsuccessfully, tried to shoehorn in lessons about Society (Candyman, Don’t Worry Darling, Men), at least Blink Twice is successfully entertaining. Kravitz has a good sense for what makes a solid popcorn film tick, even if, or perhaps because, some of her stylistic choices can’t help but feel derivative. Rapid stage-setting cuts, symmetrical blocking, moody montages, the kind of “on drugs” scene we’ve all seen a million times—the easiest way to score points as a new director is to evoke style-forward filmmakers like Edgar Wright or Wes Anderson. But Blink Twice has the crucial distinction of looking good too, full of rich colors and contrast, creating a lush texture—with everything from the food, to the bright red gift bags, to the cloth of the dresses, and even to the blunts—that you’d hope to see on an luxurious island (The Last Black Man In San Francisco’s Adam Newport-Berra is credited as cinematographer). Even if Kravitz grabs from recognizable artistic benchmarks, at least they’re the kind that make a film eminently watchable.

Blink Twice proves that Zoë Kravitz is not just an obsessive cinephile, but a sponge. She has clearly honed techniques from the films she loves, finally gotten to a place where she felt confident that she could create something of her own. But though certainly diverting, Blink Twice still very much comes across like the film of an obsessive cinephile, a debut transparent in its collage—an experiment in pulling from what works and what doesn’t work in the films its director has seen before. Its biggest weakness is that it doesn’t feel like Kravitz is adding anything of herself to the film, rather merely suggesting her tastes. But it’s also obvious that Blink Twice comes from a place of ambition, one somewhat defiant of the modern mainstream. Blink Twice is undeniably palate-cleansing when compared with the surplus of sexless legacy sequels, romance novel adaptations, and dull–looking, repetitive franchise installments. Even if it’s simply drawing inspiration from superior films, Blink Twice uses these touchstones to create something appealing and original. At the very least, it marks an exciting first step for a director who’s got the skill to make something better.

Director: Zoë Kravitz
Writer: Zoë Kravitz, E.T. Feigenbaum
Starring: Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum, Christian Slater, Simon Rex, Adria Arjona, Haley Joel Osment, Kyle MacLachlan, Geena Davis, Alia Shawkat
Release Date: August 23, 2024