Get Out introduced us to a new sub-genre of horror, the “social thriller” which uses the style and themes of the horror/thriller genre(s) for social critique. Get Out took on racism and how white supremacy is built on the literal exploitation of Black bodies. Nope takes aim at how the Hollywood machine chews up and spits out the creatives it needs to make the films and TV shows it sells. Blink Twice is the first social thriller to come from someone other than Jordan Peele that feels like it has a mastery of Peele’s concept of combining horror and social commentary. Zoë Kravitz makes her directorial debut with the creepy, slasher-inspired social thriller that takes aim at toxic masculinity and rape culture.
Kravitz also co-writes the script with E.T. Feigenbaum, and the way in which she unravels this tale of umbrella drinks, venom, and venal behavior is shiveringly good. Blink Twice is, first and foremost, a damn good movie built on Eighties slasher bones with a 21st century tech bro bent. Kravitz shows a deft storytelling instinct and great visual command, Blink Twice looks incredible, it’s paced perfectly, the delicate tonal balance is beautifully managed until the film’s unhinged climax. But it’s also just fun, in the way all the best slashers are. Who’s next? Don’t go in there! Oh no! A trap!
Naomie Ackie stars as Frida, a struggling cater waiter unsure what she wants to do with her life, but she knows it’s more than this. Her friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) is in a similar boat, an actor hustling for her big break. While slinging drinks at a gala hosted by tech bro billionaire Slater King (Channing Tatum), Frida and Jess change into sexy dresses and mingle with the crowd. That they’re interlopers is clear—their dresses are too bright, their shoes too tall, their nails too gaudy, they just look wrong among the sleek, black-clad gala attendees. It only gets worse when Frida accidentally causes a scene.
But Slater King comes to the rescue. He’s on something of a comeback tour—Kravitz wisely doesn’t tell us what he did, just shows us his cheesy apology video—and this gala is part of turning over a new leaf as a philanthropist. He takes Frida’s hand, their eyes meet, the music swells… And then they whisk off to Slater’s private island, along with a PJ’s worth of Slater’s hangers-on. The island is beautiful, lush, everything they need is provided. Frida’s celebrity crush on Slater turns into a real crush, he’s flirting back, is this Pretty Woman?!
No, the music is too dark for that. The original music, by Chanda Dancy, is actually very limited. Kravitz leans more on ambient sound, particularly the sounds of the jungle at nighttime. The effect is a low-level anxiety that turns into increasing paranoia throughout the film. At first, it’s nice, the hum of insects and the wind in the trees. But slowly the sheer lack of “real noise” emphasizes how isolated they are on the island. How remote. How far from any form of help. And then, as things begin to unravel, nature becomes hostile, part of the trap. It’s too late, you’re alone, you’re surrounded, no one is coming, everyone is here.
Kravitz layers sound and beauty shots of Slater’s villa and its resort-worthy pool with shots of dirt, old lipstick, snakes, creepily smiling maids—breaks in the façade of Slater’s island nirvana. There’s a chair in Slater’s office he can’t situate in the right place, there are snakes invading the island that must be killed, there are strange reminders of events no one can remember, and all of Slater’s friends suck. A bigger group of losers you will not find, from Cody, his friend turned personal chef (Simon Rex); to Tom, his actor friend going through a divorce (Haley Joel Osment); to the pretty and useless Lucas (Levon Hawke); to Vic, Slater’s buddy who just longs for umbrella drinks (Christian Slater). They are a singularly uninteresting, unaccomplished group of people who celebrate their nothingness nightly.
The women along for the ride aren’t much better. There are gal pals Camilla (Liz Caribel) and Heather (Trew Mullen), who is at least notable for being a massive stoner; and there is Stacy (Geena Davis), Slater’s harried assistant. And then there is Sarah (Adria Arjona), a former reality star who appears to be with Cody but also to hate him. Sarah is a little bit intriguing, a multiple-season winner of a reality show that required both bikinis and survival skills. But mostly, the women are there for decoration. Each day they’re provided with identical bikinis, each night they’re indulging in psychedelics with the guys. Welcome to Motel Hell, we’re here to party.
From the beginning, this just feels like a group of people about to be picked off by a slasher, and Kravitz does not hold back when that time comes, but the route to the finale is not anything you will expect. The construction of the story is terrific, and Kravitz manages her reveals perfectly. The finale is executed with an enthusiasm that recalls both the highs of the genre, like Friday the 13th, and the lows, like Chopping Mall. But it comes with that social thriller twist, and for all the fun she’s having orchestrating this chaos, Kravitz doesn’t miss when it comes to the theme, either. Revelations land like gut punches, the sum total of a grotesque whole. To call this a confident debut is almost an understatement. Zoë Kravitz directs not just with confidence, but also with style, wit, and a razor-sharp eye on society’s failings. Comparisons to Get Out are justified, but in the end, Blink Twice stands on its own as a funny, scary, witty, devastating horror movie that stares down the worst of society, unblinking.
Blink Twice is now playing exclusively in theaters.
