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Good Fortune, the whimsical comedy by comedian Aziz Ansari, has been facing challenges in theaters. Many factors may explain the film's performance: The generic name fails to express the movie's unique appeal. Its screenplay is often preachy and obvious regarding the messages. Its acting seem uninspired and presentational, like the cast are reading lines straight from a script. Moreover, the film comes at a time of financial uncertainty and disparity, that may make viewers not very receptive to a narrative that implies wealthy people have all the benefits while the poor possess spirit.

But, here's where Good Fortune stands out: It's original, daring, creative, often funny, and certainly timely. Plus, it provides an unexpectedly great Keanu Reeves character-driven movie.

Reeves as an Guardian: A Familiar Portrayal

I have never considered Keanu Reeves a good actor. His flat delivery and persistent expression of mild concern have consistently felt limited, despite his wide range of characters he has played over the last four decades years. Smart directors have placed Reeves in parts where that stoic nature works ideally, from My Own Private Idaho to The Matrix to John Wick. But nearly every one of those characters required him to seem tough, distant, and removed.

In Good Fortune, the actor plays an angel, one low-level guardian celestial being assigned with watching over people who text while behind the wheel. His whole duty is sitting in his vehicles and lightly touching the drivers' shoulders as they're about to have an accident, alerting the person so the driver stop before impact. But, when positioned overlooking his domain, gazing upon the mortal world similar to a version of the angel from the director's classic film the angel story, the character gets ambitious. He wants to be a great guardian and rescuer of lost souls.

A Unexpected Turn: Reeves as a Human

Therefore, he presents himself to down-and-out handyman a character (portrayed by the director), who is living out of a vehicle and resenting his situation. Gabriel then exchanges Arj with the life of extremely rich businessman Jeff (acted by the comedian). The point of the exercise is that Arj would understand the wealthy man's existence comes with major drawbacks, and gratefully return to his original life, much like the character in the classic film.

Problem was, Arj right away discovers how Jeff's problems (boring meetings, a pricey heating invoice) are negligible and readily resolved with wealth. Arj also sees that being rich provides endless opportunities for self-indulgent fun. The character has zero desire in returning to his own life, and the angel is unable to compel Arj to return. Then, additional bad news arrives: Because of overstepping his duties and disrupting the order of existence, Gabriel is fired as an angel job, and transformed to a human being.

The Revelation: The Actor Grins

Personally, I remained not convinced by Reeves playing an angel who has grand aspirations and a burning wish to make a difference. He delivers a familiar somewhat constipated performance he has consistently providing for at least the past three decades. Viewing Reeves as an celestial being who's just turned human for the first time, on the other hand, was highly entertaining, due to something that truly astonished viewers at first: This is something new for Reeves. Or more accurately, something old.

Soon during the character's baffling experience as a human, clinging to Jeff (whom the angel had swapped with the handyman's precarious life and underemployed status), Gabriel starts hesitantly trying out everyday experiences like chewing and consuming food. Then Reeves grins. Genuinely, hesitantly, happily smiles. (It's far much convincing than the smile on the promotional image, that appears digitally altered.)

Why This Grin Matters

It really surprised me to recognize how unexpected and welcome the smile was. When did we last we saw Keanu Reeves smile in a movie in which he wasn't expressing malice, irony, or resentment? The actor likely attempts it at some point in 2020's misbegotten the sequel, but I am not going to revisiting the mess to confirm. The actor has remained stuck with serious, murderous, broody, or simply serious characters for such a duration that merely watching him smile felt like seeing a completely new performer.

While the story goes on, Gabriel ends up needing to take a kitchen job, which fails to provide sufficient to live on, and he begins chain-smoking due to frustration. Just the image of the actor in a cheap paper restaurant hat, his late-career signature long hair pulled back in an unglamorous ponytail, leaning on a building and puffing on a smoke, is worth the price of admission. The dishwasher attire totally changes his face and body: Suddenly, the slim, suited physical powerhouse of his famous movies is gawky, ordinary, and much increasingly relatable.

The Joy of Watching Reeves Loosen Up

The film isn't always enjoyable to watch, especially when the director (who also wrote the screenplay) must create believable explanations for {Ar