The gift? Of laughter and forgetting

The ritual of Catholic confession has never felt quite right to me; to each their own, but the idea that you can simply say a few words that apparently mean you are repenting of some sins and that will take you to their idea of ​​heaven seems a little too convenient for those who commit acts that make apologies almost meaningless. I’m sure some people Do They regret the terrible things they have done, but I expect a significant number of these people do not, and do not care who they hurt or how often, as it makes no difference to their present existence or their perceived future.

This is perhaps a little too philosophical a start, but Flash twice is more than just a thriller with a message. It is beautiful and sarcastic, often cruel, never boring, perhaps a little narrow-minded in its focus, but it still hits its mark with force and power. Director and co-writer Zoë Kravitz comes out of the starting blocks as smooth as silk in her debut film, with mostly concentrated anger and a dose of black humor.

Frida (Naomi Ackie) is a somewhat directionless young woman with an inexplicable obsession with Slater King (Channing Tatum), a multi-billionaire in the tech industry who is trying to mount a comeback after inexplicably having to step out of the spotlight. A seemingly chance encounter leads to a meet-cute between the two, and she and her best friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) are invited to Slater’s private island, where no phones are allowed, the champagne never stops flowing, and the days blend into one another with endless sunshine, delicious meals, and the almost perfect man just out of reach.

But paradises don’t exist, and Frida starts noticing anomalies: Why are there dresses that fit her perfectly? Why can’t she remember how long they’ve been there, or what they do all day, other than lounging by the pool and consuming alcohol and drugs? Why does she sometimes wake up with a perfectly clean dress, but with dirt under her fingernails and on her feet? Then Jess suddenly wants to leave badly—Frida convinces her to stay, but the next morning it’s as if she was never there, and no one can remember her. What seems like a bizarre science experiment is actually one, but for reasons that are literally (and kind of literally) stomach-churning.

Warning: Spoilers follow.

One is tempted to think that Kravitz and co-writer ET Fiegenbaum are trying to say something about the super-rich and their followers; how such men get away with drugging and raping women for days at a time, constantly wiping their memories so they can commit their crimes. These women – Sarah (Adria Arjona), a former survival show star, and two others – have come here voluntarily, and you want to scream at them for being so naive; but we are constantly told to be more trusting, that not all men are affected. That could be any of us accepting a ride from a male friend, an invitation to a house party where we know people, or even just walking outside the bar for a smoke.

The island, with its many amenities, is the pearl around the grain of sand that irritates – this sand is everywhere, only here in a better disguise. Perhaps it is better to forget our trauma, which can plague the mind and soul so constantly that we can never really recover from it. But forgetting also allows people to get away with these crimes again and again. When Frida realizes the truth in flashes of recovered memories, she is at first almost frozen with horror and humiliation.

Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra (The last black man in San Francisco) shows us lives framed almost like the ideal Instagram selfies of a life of luxury – until it doesn’t, and we’re forced to confront what the eye could not previously see. Editor Kathryn J. Schubert is frequently tasked with quick cuts that act as horrific flashes that break open Frida’s memory. There are moments of levity, witty wordplay, and a constant urge to just live this brief moment of hedonism because the truth is just too awful.

But it’s important to remember. Ackie, like all of us, is trapped and alone in a situation we don’t want to admit we’d probably find ourselves in, and we need to remember and simultaneously wish we didn’t have to. Solidarity with Sarah – the kind of female solidarity that feels honest – helps her mobilize. She remains strong at the center of the story and lets us stay by her side as she navigates the dangers – scared when it’s impossible not to be, and smart when the moment comes. Tatum plays this slimy asshole type perfectly (I suspect he knows men like that). He knows that apologies can be more or less meaningless and forgiveness is irrelevant to someone like him, who always finds a way to give in to his darkest desires with little to no consequences.

All of the actors – a great mix of personalities including Christian Slater, Haley Joel Osment, Liz Carabel, Simon Rex, Trew Mullen, and Geena Davis as the only person who tends to forget – keep the energy and pace at a steady level as Kravitz brings down the hammer.

Compare with The glass onion because of its isolated location and the impalement of the rich come to mind, as well as Ready or Not for the young woman who fights back. But a greater inspiration could be Michaela Coel’s I can destroy Youone of the best and most haunting television series of recent years. It also deals with the violence and injury that comes from having one’s memory manipulated and how a survivor wants to move on, but it’s also impossible to resist the temptation to return that violence in kind.

While there may be a few too many beautiful people here, and the film may be too devious in its cinematic logic, it offers the kind of revenge catharsis that victims of sexual violence crave in a film, with an ending that takes aim at typical Hollywood or even indie films. Flash twice is a strong debut from Kravitz and as delicious a rape-revenge film as we’ve seen in years.