THE STORY – An insomniac musician encounters a mysterious stranger, leading to a journey that challenges everything he knows about himself.
THE CAST – Abel Tesfaye, Jenna Ortega, Barry Keoghan, and Riley Keough
THE TEAM – Trey Edward Shults (Director/Writer) & Abel Tesfaye & Reza Fahim (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 minutes
It’s safe to say Abel Tesfaye (or, as many know him, The Weeknd) has reached the highest of ceilings many artists could only dream of. He’s a Grammy winner whose melodically somber sound is synonymous with a whole generation of music listeners. He has performed on some of the biggest stages known to man, including the Super Bowl. So naturally, it was only a matter of time before Tesfaye’s artistic ambitions grew beyond the limits of music and reached the silver screen. His brief appearance in the Safdie Brothers’ “Uncut Gems” marked the beginning of a new lane for which Tesfaye could explore himself. His first real role was in television heavyweight Sam Levinson’s controversial HBO drama “The Idol,” whose stories of its troubled production outlived the actual series. Now, Tesfaye aims to prove it was a fluke by teaming up with filmmaker Trey Edward Shults for their new project, “Hurry Up Tomorrow.” What they do cook up is an experimental ego-death trip that is truly a thinly veiled vanity project so inept that it comes off as nothing more than a wash for everyone involved.
The first time we see Tesfaye’s fictionalized persona on screen in “Hurry Up Tomorrow,” he’s struggling to get in the zone before a sold-out performance. A recent heartbreak has Abel downing expensive liquor and mixing a variety of narcotics just to give him the boost he needs to step out on stage. He’s in his element when he steps out in front of those cheering fans, even if only for a moment. Tesfaye, who co-wrote the film alongside Shults and Reza Fahim, loosely plays with his real-life experiences that are injected with trippy sequences of abstract filmmaking. It allows Shults to have actual, tangible moments of Tesfaye’s life to play around with in the hopes of creating something unique. Cue in Jenna Ortega’s mysterious superfan Anima, who’s on the run from something unknown to audiences. All we are looped in on is the arson of what is presumed to be her home, and she has tickets to see The Weeknd that she cannot miss. We find the two intersecting on a star-crossed journey that supposedly wants to dig deep into what it means to be a star, how they perceive themselves, and, most importantly, how they discard those closest to them.
Everything about this project is a misfire, and not even to the slightest degree. “Hurry Up Tomorrow” “experimental” nature comes off as nothing but an artifice for a film so devoid of anything worthwhile to say. The screenplay is willing to acknowledge Tesfaye’s insecurities half-heartedly while still having Shults bask him in a neon-soaked cinematic self-pity fest. At one point in the film, Barry Keoghan’s Lee, a longtime friend and manager of Abel, even makes a slight jab at his acting career, alluding to the failure of “The Idol.” This self-referential quality is equally as surface-level as “Hurry Up Tomorrow” pretentiousness leads to humor that is unintentionally derived from awkward moments of stilted delivery of terrible dialogue. What’s laughable is that for a film so enshrouded in conceptual audaciousness, it’s way too literal to be taken seriously. Once viewers see The Weeknd donning a boxer’s outfit, shadow-boxing, and take into account that it’s also representing the demons he’s fighting internally, it will only make eyes roll.
Schults’s directorial stamp almost feels stripped of some of its potency to a degree with this film. It’s been five long years since “Waves,” this makes me wonder what happened to the filmmaker who was willing to take risks, such as with the film’s second half. Here, Shults’s visual eye is still intact and, frankly, one of the only aspects that makes “Hurry Up Tomorrow” somewhat watchable. Yet there’s very little about this film that feels like the filmmaker we remember, as he somewhat operates in a space that feels like it’s a poor imitation of The Safdies. Something that only feels more concrete due to the involvement of Daniel Lopatin’s work on the score. Lopatin and Tesafaye’s work with the score of “Hurry Up Tomorrow” is the most memorable aspect, even if those glorious synths eventually fade in as background noise for a meandering mess.
Testefaye, who has his hand in most aspects of this project, is stepping up to the plate in his first lead role in a feature film. Somehow, he has only regressed as a performer, turning in a performance that feels as painful to watch as Aaron Rodgers’ time on the New York Jets. Even watching Tesfaye act out the musical performances on stage feels inauthentic, which is impressive in its own way, considering it’s what he does for a living. Ortega is desperately trying to make something out of nothing, and it’s tough to see her have little support from those opposite her. Keoghan is barely in the film to make an impact besides being a physically rambunctious cokehead who is stammering over his words to motivate a worn-down Abel. This is a far cry from watching the likes of Sterling K. Brown, Kelvin Harrison Jr., and Taylor Russell in “Waves,” all of whom were able to deliver masterclass performances with the guidance of Shults. Here, it seems to have disregarded that magic touch even to get a performance that feels worthy of our attention.
There’s no denying that Tesfaye is an incredibly gifted musical artist whose discography spanning the past decade only continues to evolve in all of the best ways. Hell, the album for “Hurry Up Tomorrow,” which Tesfaye says was spawned after his work on this film, is one of the best albums I’ve heard so far this year. Tesfaye has already cemented himself as one of the best voices in music, but his brief attempts at translating that into acting have been unfortunately misguided. Will Tesfaye keep trying to make this work after “Hurry Up Tomorrow?” Who knows. What we do know is that if it’s only more of what we’ve already seen, then maybe we’re fine with just the music.
