Hurry Up Tomorrow – REVIEW & COCKTAIL – The Martini Shot

Full disclosure before we get into this; I bought a ticket for Final Destinations: Bloodlines and went into the wrong theater. That is not a joke. I was very confused why Final Destination had such an artsy opening. And, you know, I was confused why The Weeknd was there. Sure, I could have gotten up and went to the right theater, maybe miss some of the first few minutes, but what if this was a sign? What if this was fate and the gods directing me towards a destiny I didn’t know I was headed towards. If that’s the case, I would like to take all the gods, shuffle them into a room, and then nuke them all off the face of the Earth.

Hurry Up Tomorrow is an experimental psychological thriller concocted by singer-songwriter Abel Tesfaye, aka The Weeknd, and director Trey Edward Shultz, who you may know from It Comes at Night and Waves. The film is meant to be a companion piece to Weeknd’s latest album of the same name, while taking viewers on a delirious journey through the tortured psyche of the artist. But if you were hoping for this to be a bold, insightful or daring piece of art that holds a mirror up to its star, you may be shocked to find that the mirror is actually made of cement. This thing screams vanity and overindulgence without really delivering on anything unique or even enjoyable to watch. There’s no real vulnerability to Weeknd’s performance or his decision to play an exaggerated version of himself, while everyone else just kinda acts circles around him, trying to make the best of a mess. While visually interesting and, at times, a feast for the senses, it comes to service the narrative very little, hoping to instill anxiety and panic into a film that I just couldn’t take seriously. This really wanted to be an avant garde 8 Mile, but ended up being not much better than This Is Me…Now. Celebrity brain is a hell of an enigma.

In the film, Tesfaye plays a fictionalized version of himself, reeling from a breakup caused by his own issues while he begins to crumble under the physical demands of touring and performing. When he reaches his limit and strains his voice, he ends up fleeing the limelight with a troubled superfan, Anima. But things begin to take a dark turn when Anima tries to make Abel look deep inside himself, coming to terms with his own demons and flaws…I think?

Yeah, the film gets pretty abstract at times, but it never really feels like it makes its intentions even semi-clear at any point, except for it being a surface level self-reflection for The Weeknd. I feel like I know what Abel was trying to achieve with a film like this, but it doesn’t help that he himself does not have the screen presence to make it work. We all clowned on him for his performance in The Idol, and his acting chops have not really improved all that much this time around aside from the fact that he spends most of the movie crying. And yet there’s never really a moment that gives us anything to latch onto. It kind of feels like the film wants to humanize the megastar, but his deliveries and actions actually make him feel far more alien. Whether it’s him giving a halfhearted “weee” while on an electric scooter or whiningly telling Jenna Ortega to STFU, he feels so far removed from being an actual person. And you know, that could have been an interesting direction to take this, but the rest of the film feels so self-absorbed while simultaneously giving us nothing to learn about the singer. He went through a messy break-up he’s refusing to take responsibility for, but no real emotional maturity is ever shown throughout the film, even though it acts like it’s super soul bearing.

And unfortunately, having better actors around Abel does not help in the slightest. Barry Keoghan is fine as the sneakily manipulative manager Lee, but the character is what you’d expect; overbearing, drug peddling, and slimey. Jenna Ortega, on the other hand, as a lot more layers to her as pyromaniac drifter Anima. It’s just a shame those layers never really get pulled back at all. We’re introduced to her while she’s tearfully burning down a house, and that’s about as interesting as her character gets. In a way, she kind of becomes this guide that may be metaphorical for Abel coming to terms with his issues, but again, that kind of introspective doesn’t really happen. We get to see her sing Blinding Lights and dance around while a tied to the bed Abel cries, which is admittedly pretty funny. Her performance is fine for what she’s given, but I’m just so confused by some of Ortega’s project choices as of late.

My first thought when I was watching this was that this was a Sam Levinson joint, mostly because of its erratic camera work and striking use of color. He had nothing to do with it apparently, but it does kind of check the boxes of actual director Trey Edward Shultz as well. He’s one of those directors from what I’d call the prime era of A24 that I just never really dug all that much. A lot of what I admire about his work is here, but it had little emotional effect on me. The panic-inducing scenes of flashing lights and abrasive music didn’t unnerve me at all because of how they were implemented alongside this character I was never given a reason to care about. Sure, it illustrates his own paranoia and mental state, but if I don’t have any reason to be interested in this character, I’m not going to be unnerved, I’m gonna be annoyed. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of the film is stunning to look at, but it’s in service to ultimately nothing.

The whole thing is stuck between the vagueness of a music video and the directness of a narrative feature. We learn nothing of note from this character other than he’s sorry for what he did. That isn’t interesting, and he doesn’t even directly acknowledge what he did or why he should be sorry. Jenna Ortega singing his songs to him while talking about how emotionally deep they are does not reflect the humility that comes with looking deep inside yourself, especially when you are conceptualizing, producing and starring in a movie ultimately about you. By the end, you feel like nothing happened at all; no message was made, no lesson was learned, and no worthwhile point was ever presented.

Look, I really enjoy The Weeknd’s music, to the point where I know he’s probably capable of something a little less generic than this. Hurry Up Tomorrow just felt like a basic film about inner demons and taking accountability, but it’s presented in such a vapid and self-conflated way that I couldn’t engage with what it was trying to say. Stylistic for sure, but there’s nothing really underneath it all to latch onto or take away. It really just felt like a vanity project designed to catapult The Weeknd to a higher level of artistic integrity, but he couldn’t actually take that needed step towards vulnerability that doesn’t make it look like you’re reaching for sympathy points.

RATING

The Abyss (feat. Lana Del Rey)

I’m kinda surprised that in the 4ish years of doing this, I don’t think I’ve done a cola cocktail. And what joy cola cocktails have given us over the years. Whether you’re a teenager trying your first drink (have to say I don’t condone that) or just looking for a lazy, 2-ingredient cocktail, the combination of soda and spirit has always been there for us. But let’s take that classic and build upon it slightly by adding some fresh, tart juices and the surprisingly solid pairing of tequila. The final product is very tasty, tart and sweet, and it can be customized with any cola you prefer. Since this is named after a song featuring Lana Del Ray, I decided on Pepsi. If you know, you know.

INGREDIENTS

• 2oz tequila
• 1/2oz amaretto
• 1/2oz lime juice
• 4 cherries
• Top: Cola
• Garnish: cherries

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Add lime juice and cherries to a shaker and muddle.
2. Add additional ingredients and shake with ice.
3. Double strain into a rocks glass filled with ice.
4. Top with cola and garnish with cherry.