Eddington

“Just don't make me think, post it.”

These words belong to Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) as he instructs his deputy to post a campaign video to social media in Ari Aster’s new movie Eddington.

The story takes place in a scrubby New Mexico town in the tumultuous summer of 2020. In the opening scene, two federal agents rebuke Sheriff Cross for not wearing his mask. COVID-19 is afoot, and the fallout from the death of George Floyd threatens to undo the little town.

Sheriff Cross doesn’t like the mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) and his COVID policies, which drive Cross to take Garcia on in the next mayoral election. But Cross’ determination to win lead to increasingly bad decisions. Aster, who made a name for himself with horror movies, ratchets up the violence as the movie spirals to its climax.

Even though many of us remember 2020, the movie reminds us of the vehement divisions and mania that descended on our society. And COVID-19 wasn’t the only reason. A different—and potentially more destructive—malady afflicts these small-town citizens: living life online, isolated from a real community.

Joe Cross’ mother-in-law and his wife Louise (Emma Stone) are locked down at home making internet discoveries about secret plans to control land and food. Then you have the youngsters in the story who are improbably radicalized by anti-racist rhetoric. They take to the streets to protest the existence of police and of white people.

It’s like the townspeople have poison in their minds, compromising their good judgment and ability to hold facts in tension. Technology has distorted their perspective as they overexpose themselves to the chain reaction of internet outrage. We see people experience life, not firsthand, but through the hyper-realized narrative of their phones.

The movie touches on the absurdity of the moment. At one point, Sheriff Cross is rolling through the town in his truck campaigning over a loudspeaker, but the streets are deserted. Meanwhile the youngsters stage a protest, but no one is around to hear them. These scenes bring to mind Albert Camus’ image of the absurd: watching a man inside a phone booth speak with big gestures, but you hear nothing.

The movie’s strength is that it portrays all these entangled problems evenhandedly. It shows a world imploding. But the movie’s weakness is that Aster seems to enjoy the chaos and collapse he has set in motion in his story and his characters. It’s hard to root for any of these characters, and any empathy the viewer might feel for these poor people disappears in the elevated social destruction. Because of that, the movie has a nihilistic undertone, even as it reaches for comedic moments. I hope we see alternative cinematic efforts to make sense of this time in American history and how it changed our world.