“Again, history repeats itself. And, uh, I mean, let’s talk about 1956. Let’s talk about the number 56 for just one minute. In California, Jesuit-educated Gavin Newsom. And he said to California, as he became the first governor to lock down his state, he said, “56% of you will get Corona in eight weeks”. Which is exactly 56 days. Of course, they keep looking at that lab in Wuhan, China. And if you look at that lab in Wuhan when it was established, it was 1956. Of course, that’s the year Tom Hanks was born, the first celebrity with the virus. Mr. Sleepless In Seattle. By the way, Jenny Durkan was the mayor of Seattle when it became the first city in the world outside of China to have someone get the virus. And she was the 56th mayor.”
Remember COVID 19? remember all the crazy theories that went around? Remember the circular logic? In so many ways the months of the pandemic and lockdowns, social distance, mask mandates, and debating if going to religious services is considered essential activities — all of that feels like it was a million years ago in some dark prehistory. But then it feels so raw and tender even now. Hell, I still encounter people wearing masks out there, and I think the National Teacher’s Association still isn’t sure we should be letting our kids go to school. I live in Florida where the national news treated us like we were some black plague ground zero. I had to go to New York City for surgery in October of 2020, and one nurse turned white as a ghost when she heard we were from FLORIDA!!!. Turned out ol’ Andy in New York was cooking the books, and they were having far worse nightmares than we were. What I just said there, that’s divisive, yeah? So why did writer/director Ari aster decide it was time to bring it all out in a movie? I will tell you that Eddington isn’t as divisive as many others say it is. Aster is actually pretty fair to both sides, and even though we know exactly what side he’s on, he faithfully points out the wackos on both sides, and yes, there were wackos on both sides. Maybe that’s the message I should have walked away with when it was all over. But I didn’t. Swing and a miss.
Eddington is a very small town in New Mexico with the kind of small population where everyone knows everyone else’s business. There are two competing factions in the leading citizens of the town. Sheriff Joe Cross is played by Joaquin Phoenix. He often argues the jurisdiction lines between the city limits and the county. His obviously lifetime nemesis is the city’s mayor, Ted Garcia played by Pedro Pascal, who signed a contract to appear in every movie in 2025. OK, I made that part up, but it just feels like he’s popping up everywhere. I’m not complaining. He’s delivering great performance after great performance, and Eddington is no exception. The truth is both of these actors are at the top of their field, and together they create a force to be reckoned with. Sheriff Cross isn’t going to enforce the mayor’s mask mandates, and he doesn’t believe COVID has even come to their town. Mayor Garcia is the complete other end of the debate. He’s out there “saving lives”, and a comical event breaks out in a grocery store when a homeless man shows up dirty and without a mask. Like I said, both sides had their wackos. Cross decides he’s sick, but not from COVID. He’s sick of the mayor’s tyranny, and he’s not going to stand for it anymore. He posts a video throwing his hat into the upcoming mayoral election.
Of course, it’s all to spite each other. Their hatred goes back a long way. Garcia once dated and slept with his wife, Louise, played by Emma Stone. She was once raped, and Cross is sure Garcia is to blame. She’s been pretty much living inside her own head since that event and makes oddly twisted dolls she sells online. She isn’t happy about her husband’s decision to run, and she’s afraid, for good reason, that the whole nightmare will wash over her once again. The characters escalate with Cross crossing some really terrifying lines to create a narrative. He drafts his entire Sheriff’s office to work the campaign and turns his police cruiser into an old-fashioned-politics megaphone truck.
Aster isn’t wrong in many of the elements he sets up here. In Tampa our sheriff told our county commission he would not enforce a mask mandate. Remember this was also the height of the Black Lives Matter riots, and many cops were rather worried about having to approach a black citizen and try to get them to comply with a mask mandate. It was a legitimate concern among law enforcement officers trying to stay safe and keep us as safe as they could. Yes, I’m talking about the 99.9% of officers who are not racist and just want to come home to their families after every shift.
So Aster wants to remind us how things were. You know what? I’m OK. My memory is working just fine, and I’m not sure I really want to revisit those days just yet. Aster also fails us because he over-complicates his story by giving us so many other issues to deal with that we lose track of who we should even be rooting for. I decided we shouldn’t be rooting for anyone, and once you come to that conclusion, none of it matters anymore. I’ve had my share of spinning my wheels of late, and that’s exactly what’s going on here. It’s not the politics that will drive folks away from this film. That’s a smokescreen each side will use to make an accusation that fits in with their worldview. Still, that’s what everyone is talking about. The film is just too much of a narrative mess no matter what your politics. Pascal and Phoenix are dynamic and compelling together, but no matter how much they try, they can’t carry this one across the finishing line. Aster tells us he’s trying to stoke those still-fresh emotions. I have one question, Ari. “How is that working out for you so far?”
