Hurry up and (Week)End

The trailers for Hurry Up Tomorrow were fairly enigmatic (although claims to be a "cinematic odyssey" should have raised alarm bells), keeping the exact nature of the film under wraps. They do, however, go big on it being a project from "It Comes at Night" director, Trey Edward Shults. Turns out this is a misdirect since, while Shults does direct and co-write, this is really a baffling vanity project for star, producer and writer, Abel "The Weeknd" Tesfaye. If, like me, you are only vaguely aware of the musical stylings of Mr Weeknd then this monotonous preen is not going to endear him to you. If you are a fan, maybe stick to getting your hands on the accompanying album and leave it at that.

In fairness to the musician, he has tried to make something of substance and his pitch must have been fairly compelling as, in addition to Shults on directing duty, he has convinced rising stars Jenna Ortega and Barry Keoghan to get involved. It is nobody concerned's best work. Ortega could probably continue to play alternative teens until she is forty but you can see why she would want to take a chance on a role like this and she at least has the most interesting character here. Keoghan's presence as Weekend's hedonistic manager is harder to fathom but he seems to be having maximum fun for minimum effort.

The story is minimal, which, in itself, is fine. The Weeknd plays himself, struggling with a recent break up and stress related voice loss while trying to keep a tour going. The first half of the movie consists of the lead feeling sorry for himself and complaining he can't carry on performing while his manager (Keoghan) ignores his concerns and tells him how great he is and that he just needs to chill out and shovel some drugs in his face. The glacial pacing and hyper stylisation give the feel of a paint by numbers attempt at an A24 film. Everything is dark and/or bathed in red, making for an ugly viewing experience and it sounds even worse. The sound design is a constant barrage of the star's songs only interrupted by grating musical cues that are supposed to invoke a sense of disassociation but are just annoying. Things get a little more interesting when he meets Ortega's character, who we are introduced to earlier as she burns down a house, and the tone shifts, giving the director a chance to flex his horror background.

Unfortunately, any attempts to leverage a deconstruction of Tesfaye's pop persona into something meaningful are completely buried under an avalanche of self indulgence. A major plot point involves Ortega lecturing the audience on the deep meaning of 'Week's songs and we are "treated" to a teary close up of him singing the entire title track, a song and performance he deems so powerful it quite possibly saves his life. Such self aggrandising might be entertainment enough to warrant a watch if everything else wasn't so boring.

Given its function as an extension of a music album, Hurry Up Tomorrow is very much film as a product and with that in mind, Tesfaye should probably be commended for creating a stylised meta art piece rather than something more obviously generic. Ironically though, a straight up concert movie would have been less dull.

4 blindings from 10 lights.

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