PLOT: Set during the infamous COVID summer of 2020, Eddington follows a small-town sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix) and a charismatic mayor (Pedro Pascal) as they clash over mask mandates, their shared past, and escalating ideological divides.
REVIEW: Ari Aster’s Eddington is half of a great film. When focused on the rising madness that gripped much of the world during the pandemic’s early days, it’s sharp, uneasy satire. But the film goes so wildly off the rails in its final hour that it undoes nearly everything that made its riveting first half work, resulting in yet another alienating misfire for Aster following the divisive Beau Is Afraid.
That’s a shame, because the opening is genuinely gripping, capturing the surreal chaos of a moment most of us would rather forget. Set in a fictional Midwestern town, Eddington depicts the early days of lockdowns, mask mandates, and “family bubbles.” Joaquin Phoenix plays Joe Cross, the town’s mostly apolitical sheriff, who begins to push back against what he sees as government overreach. A key scene—where an elderly, mentally ill man is thrown out of a grocery store and publicly shamed for not wearing a mask (even as others wear theirs incorrectly)—spurs Joe to challenge the current mayor in an election. Pascal’s Mayor Ted Garcia is fully on board with the restrictions, but he’s also in bed with big tech, pushing for a massive data-mining facility to be built just outside town.
A few years ago, Joe would have likely been painted as the film’s antagonist. But Eddington aims for a more nuanced approach, encouraging sympathy—or at least understanding—for both sides as they spiral into media-fueled hysteria. Joe is positioned as a kind of everyman; he openly mocks his mother-in-law’s conspiracy theories (played with gusto by Deirdre O’Connell), but his worldview shifts when his wife falls under the sway of a cult-like guru (Austin Butler) preaching QAnon-style conspiracies. Joe’s politics soon take a sharp rightward turn.
Aster doesn’t let the left off the hook, either. Several younger townspeople dive headfirst into the BLM movement, only to reveal their own hypocrisy—white activists accusing the town’s Black deputy (Michael Ward) of being a “race traitor,” becoming racists in the name of anti-racism. It’s clear Aster isn’t picking a side—he’s skewering everyone.
This first half is close to brilliant. It’s provocative and bound to be polarizing: right-wing audiences may label Aster as “woke,” while the left may accuse him of pandering to MAGA types. But that’s what good satire does—cut deep on all sides—and Aster, who also wrote the screenplay, shows remarkable control and wit during this stretch.
Unfortunately, around the midpoint, the film takes a nosedive. A pivotal event sends the story into absurd, over-the-top territory, culminating in a Scarface-style shootout featuring Phoenix wielding a machine gun. What began as grounded social commentary veers into fantasy, ending with a jokey, borderline tone-deaf epilogue that feels like it belongs to a completely different film. It’s jarring and deflating.
Aster has earned a reputation as a mad genius, and A24 has clearly given him wide creative latitude. The cast, as always, is strong. Phoenix is excellent early on as the rugged, salt-of-the-earth sheriff, but his performance becomes increasingly cartoonish as the film derails. Pascal is pitch-perfect as the slick, media-savvy mayor but fades into the background by the final act. Emma Stone barely registers in a thankless, underwritten role. Supporting players make more impact: O’Connell is exhausting in just the right way, Butler is chilling as the conspiracy theorist, and Michael Ward brings welcome sanity as perhaps the film’s only truly grounded character.
Visually, the film looks terrific—Darius Khondji’s cinematography gives Eddington an unexpectedly glossy sheen for an A24 production. But at a punishing 149 minutes, and with a back half that betrays the promise of its setup, this is a tough film to recommend. It’s more accessible than Beau Is Afraid, but equally alienating in its own way. Some may find it brilliant—but that audience will likely be niche.
