Eddington is the latest collaboration between Ari Aster and A24. I went in pretty blind—had an early screener, didn’t revisit the trailer, and had no idea what the movie was actually about. But with a cast like Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone, and Austin Butler, and with Aster behind the camera, I was definitely curious. He’s a director I really admire, even when I don’t love the film, because he usually has something to say—and he says it in a very specific, sometimes chaotic way.
So, I was pretty surprised to find out this was a film set during the COVID-19 pandemic. Full transparency: I’m personally over stories that fully immerse themselves in that era. I can appreciate a movie that comments on the time period, but I’m just not that interested in being dropped back into 2020 again. Still, I was open to what Aster had in mind.
The story takes place in a small New Mexico town under lockdown. Phoenix plays the town’s defiant sheriff who launches a mayoral campaign on an anti-mask platform, while Pascal plays the sitting progressive mayor. As the town becomes more divided, paranoia grows, a local cult gains traction, and chaos starts to unfold. You’ve got political corruption, police brutality, conspiracy theories, BLM protests, Antifa, land disputes, cults, toxic masculinity, white guilt—you name it, it’s in here. The film throws everything from that period (and beyond) into one small town, and somehow tries to contain it.
To its credit, Eddington is beautifully made. The cinematography, score, sound design—all excellent. It’s atmospheric and immersive. The cast is great too. Phoenix is volatile and layered. Emma Stone plays his estranged wife who’s tied to Pascal’s character in her own way. Aster fills the film with morally complex characters who blur the lines between “good” and “bad,” and I appreciated that it doesn’t feel like it’s fully picking one political side. It critiques both extremes—and how easy it is to fall into cult-like thinking, no matter where you land ideologically.
That said, this film is long. Two and a half hours—and it feels like it. The first half is intriguing, even with some slow patches. But somewhere in the second half, the movie kind of loses control. The final act is so chaotic and tonally absurd that it left me confused more than anything. Some moments felt like satire. Others felt like a warning. And by the end, I honestly wasn’t sure what I was supposed to take from it.
There’s ambition here, no doubt. The film wants to be about everything—from racism and land ownership to social media misinformation and personal guilt. And it tries to say it all in one breath. After the credits rolled, I turned to my mom (who was my plus-one) and she just started laughing like, “What even was that?” And honestly, I couldn’t really blame her. It’s a lot.
Ultimately, this is the kind of film I admire more than I enjoyed. The craftsmanship is strong, the performances are committed, and the ideas are bold. But it’s so overstuffed and chaotic that it ends up undermining itself. I wouldn’t say it’s bad—and I’m sure some people will take a lot from it—but I personally found it frustrating. It’s the kind of film that would make for an interesting conversation with other cinephiles, but not one I’d recommend to the average viewer. I’m glad I saw it, but I doubt I’ll ever revisit it.
Rating: 6/10.