Early in Zoë Kravitz’s charged but scattered directorial debut Blink Twice, a tech tycoon caught in the storm of controversy offers a familiar kind of apology. After “everything that happened,” Slater King (Channing Tatum) says in a video, the billionaire will step back from his company. He regrets his actions and, in an effort to change, will retreat to his private island for reflection. We never find out exactly what Slater did, but in our digital wasteland littered with similarly scripted #MeToo atonements, it doesn’t take much imagination. 

Frida (an excellent Naomi Ackie) seems unbothered by the allegations surrounding Slater or the feigned sincerity of his recorded remorse. When we meet the optimistic aspiring nail designer, she’s sitting on the toilet of her rundown apartment, watching the video of the beleaguered tycoon with adoring eyes, fantasizing about the day the two might meet.

It’s lucky, then, that the next evening, while working as a waitress at a fundraising event, Frida comes face to face with Slater. Their encounter is clumsy but electric — a meet-cute fit for a romantic comedy. She trips on the hem of her dress; he helps her up and holds her gaze. Later that night, as the party thins, Slater asks Frida to fly with him and his crew to his private island. She eagerly accepts the invitation and conscripts her best friend and roommate Jess (Alia Shawkat) to come along. 

If Triangle of Sadness, Glass Onion and The Menu have taught us anything, it’s that a group of strangers in a secluded locale spells trouble. Kravitz, who co-wrote the screenplay with E.T. Feigenbaum, quickly establishes Blink Twice as both social satire satire and horror, yet balancing the two proves to be more challenging as the narrative revs up.

There are no cellphones allowed on Slater’s island. The people on staff, like those in Jordan Peele’s Get Out, wear forced smiles that merely pronounce their vacant stares. Luggage is unnecessary as matching white linen sets are provided for the islanders. Drinks flow, drugs abound and each evening’s dinner is prepared by Slater’s friend, Cody (Simon Rex), using locally farmed produce and served by candlelight. These scenes are sun-kissed and dreamy, facilitating the otherworldly mood of this tropical island. 

Unlike recent eat-the-rich offerings, Blink Twice is only partially about ultra-wealthy bacchanalia. Soon after they arrive, Frida notices strange occurrences on the island. A maid (María Elena Olivares) repeats odd phrases to her; Jess disappears, and Frida realizes her memories are an increasingly patchy assemblage of images. Why can’t she recall the origin of random bruises or the dirt under her fingernails? A similar thing seems to be happening to other women on the island, including Sarah (Hit Man‘s Adria Arjona, excellent), a former contestant on a Survivor-like reality show with whom Frida competes for Slater’s attention. 

Kravitz is primarily interested in sexual violence against women and the psychic toll of trauma. Her film echoes Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman, except Kravitz delivers on gore. Vengeance here is, thrillingly, more than an abstraction. There’s also a drifting effort to investigate the simultaneous invisibility and hyper-visibility of Black women, especially early in the film when Frida is at work, but that is disappointingly subsumed by later action. 

As Frida makes sense of these bizarre incidents, she stumbles upon nightmarish truths about Slater’s island; Blink Twice ends up abandoning pretenses of social satire to revel in the machinations of horror. Kravitz, working with DP Adam Newport-Berra (The Last Black Man in San Francisco), reinscribes earlier idyllic images of the island with a touch of malevolence, and turns the coniferous enclave into a haunted arena of fatal obstacles.

There are a few moments when Blink Twice’s busy narrative —  stuffed with twists and turns as it trails Frida’s gripping quest for survival — and its slippery visual language coalesce to realize Kravitz’s ambitions. But Blink Twice is ultimately too scattered, stretched thin by the demands of its weighted themes, conspicuous imagery, half-baked plot points and partially realized characters. 

If Blink Twice succeeds to the extent that it does, that’s largely thanks to a handful of striking performances. Tatum delivers a sturdy turn in a role that requires him to find subtler ways to wield his charm. But it’s Ackie and Arjona who really focus and energize the film. Ackie, who played Whitney Houston in Kasi Lemmons’ 2022 biopic, is a force, offering a powerful portrayal of a woman collapsing under the weight of her trauma. Her performance is raw and vulnerable, extending an invitation to understand the depths of Frida’s character despite the thin sketch.

Alongside Arjona, Ackie also builds a portrait of strength. The relationship between Frida and Sarah models and tests familiar dynamics between women, from petty jealousies to empowering alliances. It’s a credit to Ackie and Arjona that Frida and Sarah’s reactions to the reality of their ordeal register as genuine. Their curdling screams chill spines, their tears stir. The two actors don’t just explore the rage fueling Blink Twice; they tap into it.

4/5 stars

Men masquerading as women have been central to some of the most celebrated comedies of all time, from Some Like It Hot to Mrs Doubtfire. But in the current climate, where trans rights are at the forefront of sociopolitical discussions the world over, is there still a place for a broad, cross-dressing comedy?

On the basis of Kim Han-gyul’s Pilot, the answer is a resounding yes, a sharp tactful comedy that identifies precisely where its premise might be deemed problematic today, and tackles those issues head on.

His world comes crashing back down to Earth, however, when a drunken sexist outburst is leaked online. Jung-woo is fired by the airline, his wife leaves him despite having a young son together and he is branded a pariah by the entire industry.

All seems lost until his sister Jung-mi (Han Sun-hwa), an aspiring online makeover artist, helps transform Jung-woo into a woman.

As determined young aviator “Han Jung-mi”, he applies to a rival airline and is immediately hired by its owner (Seo Jae-hee), who sees this ambitious young woman as the perfect face for her own devious business plans.

Jung-woo’s merry misadventures in drag lead to an endless procession of familiar gags, from numerous wardrobe malfunctions and using the wrong bathrooms to fending off the advances of male colleagues, all of which Jo handles with delightfully flustered aplomb.

While the plot hews dangerously close to 1982’s Oscar-winning Tootsie, Pilot comes into its own when highlighting its stacked cast of sharply realised female characters.

Lee Joo-myoung is excellent as fellow pilot Seul-ki, who is determined that she be respected for her aptitude rather than her looks, but whose growing friendship with new colleague “Jung-mi” might go further than she anticipates.

Former Secret girl group member Han Sun-hwa delivers comedy gold as Jung-woo’s sister and confidante, not least in a hilarious scene when she gets drunk and emotional at their mother’s birthday party.

Seo Jae-hee and Oh Min-ae (as Jung-woo’s mother) also help ensure that Jung-woo is perpetually surrounded by strong capable women every bit his equal, if not better.

Pilot is less a tale of deception than one of upending the status quo and highlighting a gender imbalance that persists even in this alleged era of unprecedented progressiveness. That it is also hilarious throughout only helps lift the film to greater heights.

Telugu film ‘Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra’ streams on ETV Win
| Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

In a scene in Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra, the Telugu film written and directed by Anurag Palutla, siblings smile and stop squabbling, at least briefly, over mango-flavoured ice golas. Anurag peppers the film with such small moments that prevent the narrative from becoming an utter slog. He presents a bitter-sweet portrait of family, to show how people can bond together despite misgivings. After all, family ties are rarely saccharine-sweet in reality. The film streaming on ETV Win may be far from wholesome in making us root for its characters, but it has its moments. The dysfunctional family comes alive with performances by Naresh, Sri Lakshmi, Rag Mayur and Priya Vadlamani. There is also the endearing presence of Brahmanandam, in spirit, who tries to make up for the shortcomings in writing.

Veeranjaneyulu (Brahmanandam) has been gone for nearly a year and his family is yet to immerse his ashes. Through Brahmanandam’s voiceover, we learn how he worked all his life for the betterment of his family and has left behind a residence, Happy Home, in his favourite destination — Goa. Each surviving member of his family has a story replete with challenges. The first half hour or so is spent establishing these characters. 

The father (Naresh), a school teacher, is unceremoniously dismissed from service citing his inadequacy in English. The mother (Priyadarshini) is portrayed as a tireless nurturer, enduring day-to-day taunts from her mother-in-law (Sri Lakshmi). The daughter, Sarayu (Priya Vadlamani), is nearly engaged to the love of her life (Ravi Teja Mahadasyam) but feels stifled by the patriarchal gaze of her future mother-in-law. The son, Veeru (Rag Mayur), taking on his grandfather’s name, has a business setback to deal with. He is also in a loveless relationship from which he hesitates to break free.

The family embarks on a road trip and it turns out to be more than a slice-of-life story. The film rides on a slender plot and the drama is largely driven by these characters. As a 1980s van huff and puffs its way through Andhra Pradesh towards Goa, music composer R H Vikram’s score pervades through the pregnant pauses and tense moments without overtly seeking attention. Cinematographer C Ankur alternates between close shots inside the van and the wide views of the landscape that the vehicle passes through, to frame the tensions within the family and how they have to stick together since there is no one else they can turn to for help.

When the first big tussle happens and the hidden secrets of each family member tumble out, the narrative builds a palpable tension and makes us wonder what the characters would do next. But when this narrative tool of using high drama to spill secrets is used again in later portions, it does not have the desired effect.

The narrative devotes ample time to each character, giving them room to introspect and get closure to their issues. However, in doing so, the film feels overdrawn. The forced humour through a hospital sequence is mostly grating rather than providing comic relief amid heavy drama. In these portions, the performances shoulder the proceedings.

Naresh leads from the front, evoking empathy for his plight as the father who has quietly borne the brunt over decades. Veteran Sri Lakshmi as the grandmother is a delight to watch and gets a couple of ‘massy’ moments. Rag Mayur’s is a worthwhile performance as the brooding, short- tempered son. His bickering with his on-screen sibling, Priya Vadlamani, is on the mark. Priya fits the bill as a woman who is anxious not to follow the subservient example of her mother and wants her own identity.

As conversations often become arguments, a question that pops up is why this family could not have solved things by sitting across a table and talking it out. If only it were that simple. Anurag wants his viewers to understand that conversations are not easy in some families and hence, a road trip serves to vent bottled-up emotions.

Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra tries to be more than a simple family drama, akin to Kapoor and Sons, but misses that mark by a mile. It is still watchable and has endearing moments.