Blink Twice is a disturbing, revealing and difficult success

How do you analyze Sixth sense without giving away the ending? What would you say about Remember the Titans If you couldn’t say “football” or “racism”, how could you talk about Ocean 11 or the twist was that George Clooney was planning a heist all along?

Talking about Blink twice — the directorial debut of actor Zoë Kravitz — poses a similar stumbling block. Because while the genre, stars, and ratings are all on the tin, the theme most definitely isn’t. Here, it’s not just a plot twist that shouldn’t be revealed — it’s the entire point of the film.

But while a reasonable piece of advice for experiencing the horror-coded mystery would be to avoid any commentary and just go in blind, there are reasons to unpack it beforehand — and certainly not to avoid unpleasant and triggering scenes.

The other thing though is the fact that Blink twice relies so heavily on hiding its theme — only revealing it halfway through, something that only works well if it doesn’t quite sink in. Without fully revealing that reveal, we begin the story with struggling part-time nail technician, part-time event server Frida (Naomi Ackie) admiring tech mogul Slater King (Channing Tatum) from afar, but things take a turn for the worse pretty quickly.

Frida teams up with her roommate and friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) for a gala event, where the two sneak in before encountering Slater himself—and getting an invite to his exclusive private island. It’s there that things start to change and the story begins to unfold. Through a hazy and not always logical tech-horror, sci-fi plot that leads Frida to question her own memory, Kravitz’s story soon gives way to a clear explanation.

And as she does so, the disturbing aspect of what is clearly a satire rooted in class struggle begins to unfold on its clearly dark sides.

WATCH | Blink Twice Trailer:

It is important to note that especially in the second half, Blink twice is an unflinching look at issues of sexual violence. And to be fair, it’s a tricky edge Kravitz walks: balancing the neon-tinted, fantastical aspects of her irrational, memory-erasing conceit with the often crushing ordinariness with which exploitation and abuse are meted out in real life.

But even without spoiling the game, the ambitious, if crude, story deserves to be defended against the onslaught of critics who criticize it, because it is just that: a creative and cool idea that just lacks the finishing touch to make it work. Because if the story Kravitz tells is pessimistic, impulsive, and at times unbelievable, that’s because the reality is, too. Blink twice inhabits.

The performances are partly to blame for the success, despite the negativity. As Frida and Jess navigate the exclusive, decidedly strange lives of the ultra-rich, there’s a unique blend of comedy and dread. Arjona screaming the words “fat blunt” at a bewildered Haley Joel Osment, or Ackie juggling an obviously phallic paperweight — these are sandwiched between personal violations and other bloody, heart-wrenching scenes that really shouldn’t fit together.

That contrast in tone serves a purpose, though, as does a certain emotional hole in the middle of her characters. No one is good here — least of all the men who test their guests on their life plans and performance over dinner like power-hungry study counselors. But neither is our leader: Frida fails both her friends and her own safety in a shallow desire for the finer things in life.

At the same time, Tatum’s quietly brooding performance begins intriguingly, before losing much—if not all—of its complexity by the monologue’s conclusion. But a certain nihilism is not only to be expected, but necessary in Kravitz’s pronouncements. Blink twice is both a fable and a critique, wrapped in a genre-twisting thriller.

It’s more of a parable, its plot and mechanics don’t have to survive CinemaSins-style criticism. And as a commentary on culture, people’s assessments don’t have to be particularly uplifting or multifaceted either.

Blink twice reveals how banal our tendency toward cruelty can be. It expresses a depressing, if obvious, assessment of humanity because it needs to be acknowledged — not because it’s narratively comfortable. It just gets there in a somewhat convoluted way, because it’s more focused on the impact of its message than on the real-world logic required to get there. And its seemingly lighthearted tone whips back and forth in the message in a way that can first make you giggle and then gasp.

It’s a point that may not be entirely accurate, but it’s true nonetheless, while still somehow entertaining.