Across four films, writer/director Ari Aster has proved himself to be an artist who sculpts nightmares. Not always the stuff of horror movies (although with his debut feature film, Hereditary, he proved he could do that as well), Aster’s nightmares examine the human condition and what truly fills us with anxiety, fear, and ultimately depression—things like family (specifically mothers in Beau Is Afraid), relationships (Midsommar), and now, with Eddington, the greatest dread factory of them all, America. Set in May 2020, just as the health scare of COVID-19 was revealing itself as a full-fledged, global pandemic, the film focuses on the small town of Eddington, New Mexico, kindly standing in as a metaphor for the nation as a whole.
In the community, local sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) makes the claim that he finds it hard to wear the required mask because of a breathing issue. While others in the town look to him for guidance, he believes that the government (both federal and local) is overstepping by requiring masks and social distancing. He centers his paranoia and adjacent conspiracy theories on the current mayor of Eddington, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), who is currently running unopposed for another term. Determined to tap into the feeling by some around town that any restriction, even ones in the name of public health, is a restriction on freedom, Joe decides he’s going to run again Ted by appealing to those who simply don’t like being told what to do. And it’s these conflicting campaigns that lead to the town becoming even more divided and potentially explosive.
Eddington isn’t simply a movie about COVID times; through this barely functioning community, Aster deftly examines how society not only fractured in this period, but also saw the world lost itself online. With more sophisticated algorithms at work, people could have news, beliefs, and like-minded commentators pumped more directly into their veins, and it simply inflated a nation that was at odds with itself since the election just a few years earlier. Like the characters in the film, this period in recent history saw division as the fabric of polite society began to tear violently.
While Joe and Ted certainly use the internet to attempt to discredit and otherwise shit-talk their opponent, it’s the supporting characters who best illustrate this downward spiral. Joe’s two deputies (Luke Grimes and Michael Ward) act in unison as something of a devil and angel on his shoulders, sometimes encouraging his dirty campaigning while other times pleading for him to keep his head and morals on straight. Joe’s wife Louise (Emma Stone) is home for long stretches with her conspiracy-theory-spouting mother (Deirdre O’Connell), and it warps her brain to the point where she falls in league with political cult leader Vernon Jefferson Park (Austin Butler). If this movie had come out 10 years ago, much of what Butler and O’Connell are ranting about might have been seen as absurd and even laughable; not so much today. I don’t mean that their theories seem any more true today than they did 10 years ago; I mean these type of rantings have become the norm and are frequently featured on supposedly neutral news outlets.
Perhaps my favorite of the supporting players is William Belleau’s Native American Officer Butterfly Jimenez, who seems to show up just when everyone else is doing or saying the worst possible things. Everyone, especially Joe and his team, is attempting to marginalize him and push him out of their various investigations, including a double murder that happens deep into the film, and he keeps popping back up and asking all of the right questions to all of the wrong people. There’s an equally interesting version of this movie told only from his perspective that I would love to see. With the events in the film also timed to the murder of George Floyd, there are a number of young characters who start up Black Lives Matter marches and protests around town, despite the fact that there don’t appear to be any (or not many) Black residents in Eddington.
On the surface, Eddington is about a nasty political campaign for the mayorship of this town, but it’s also about America’s hypocrisy, entitlement, control, and the very tipping point of a version of society that simply doesn’t exist any longer and may never exist again. Without naming political parties or any other political leaders, Aster pushes home the point that this moment in history is when the country irrevocably shifted. In many ways, he also turns the town into a place where all conspiracy theories come true. ANTIFA-like guerrillas rip through town in a climactic gun battle, crime scenes are staged, and alternativme science is beginning to take hold; there are moments toward the end of the film that are either real or the product of Joe’s COVID-riddled brain.
I’m not even saying all of Eddington works, but it’s all fascinating and succeeds at delivering despair-covered punches to the stomach. And the scenes between Phoenix and Pascal are so good, with the power dynamic between the two characters shifting with each new exchange. Cinematographer Darius Khondju (regular collaborator of Bong Joon-ho, James Gray, and Woody Allen) brings a washed-out quality to even the most colorful production design, and when combined with the incendiary performances, overall the film feels like watching a fuse burn down on a very large stick of dynamite. And not to make it seem like the movie is a complete bummer, Eddington is often wildly funny, featuring unexpected twists and turns and character directions—not unlike the real world in the summer of 2020.
As a dealer in raw emotions, Aster is capable of outright masterpieces. Eddington rests just under that level, but that’s still impressive. Like most of his works, this one demands multiple viewings.
The film is now playing in theaters, including the Music Box Theatre.
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