It’s hard to believe it’s been almost two years since HBO’s The Idol was released. For all its faults, it’s certainly memorable. Though I didn’t hate it as much as, well, virtually everyone else did, the show was still a severe misfire, prioritising style over substance without, strangely enough, having much of a style. The series looked sleek, but not exactly vibrant, nor were there many impressive sequences to highlight its visuals, let alone tie them to its themes. As for thematic substance, it was near-impossible to parse what The Idol even wanted to be. Its depiction of the downsides of fame gradually slipped from a grim reality to an absurd and twisted fantasy that made the world of celebrity unrecognisable, mistaking anti-realism for satire.
While I didn’t find his acting terrible, Abel Tesfaye (a.k.a. The Weeknd) was a low point in the series at times. It’s difficult to say why exactly this is, but the actor seems especially awkward when he’s attempting to convey discomfort (or most negative emotions) through his facial expressions. This is far from the only parallel that can be drawn between The Idol and the musician’s latest project, Hurry Up Tomorrow, which he co-wrote with its director, Trey Edward Schultz, and Reza Fahim, but it is a noticeable one. Both stories depict the aimless and often miserable lives of pop stars, where each day rolls into the next, self-doubt keeps creeping in, the obsessive clamouring from fans feels unbearable, and there are always people waiting in the wings to guide these megastars from one location to another. That latter role is fulfilled by Lee (Barry Keoghan), Abel’s friend, manager, life coach, and enabler. To what extent Lee actually cares about the artist is difficult to define. What is known is that he will do everything in his power to ensure that Abel doesn’t skimp on his touring obligations.
As for Abel himself (a fictionalised version of the singer’s real personality), he’s struggling to cope with a bitter voice note from an ex-lover that seems to herald the death knell of an extremely toxic relationship, kickstarting a spiral of self-hatred and self-pity. The unfortunate side effect of effectively depicting an aimless lifestyle is that it creates for a pretty weightless experience. Viewers are continually left waiting for the film’s big, sweeping moments to arrive and take control of the narrative, just as Abel needs to take control of his life and stop letting others dictate his routine, image, and personality. So while there are plenty of enjoyable scenes in the film’s first half, it still feels like you’re waiting for its plot to kick into place.
As someone who enjoys some songs by The Weeknd, but is far from an avid fan, I know little to nothing about the singer’s persona and how that’s incorporated into Hurry Up Tomorrow. It was the fact that Trey Edward Shults was involved that excited me, with his previous film Waves being one of the most emotional films I’ve ever seen, as well as a spectacular audiovisual experience that I’m still kicking myself for missing out on in cinemas. Licensed music was such a huge part of Waves’ emotional palette that I had no doubt the director would use it to great effect again in Hurry Up Tomorrow, while Shults’ feature debut Krisha was an excellent portrayal of heightened emotions, big personalities, and hostile family dynamics coalescing in an explosive Thanksgiving dinner. With both of these films in mind, this director seemed like the prime candidate to depict the emotional, sonic, and visual landscape of a popstar stuck in a pit of despair as throngs of people scream in adoration for him each night.
The Weeknd’s licensed songs are well-incorporated into this dramatic film, but the best moments are when composer Daniel Lopatin (also known as Oneohtrix Point Never, whose work on the Safdie Brothers’ last two films has marked him as one of the finest film composers of the last 10 years) takes the reins. Abel’s world is hazy yet emotionally charged, with his music dipping in and out of his life just as all things seem to do. There are new faces in the crowd each night, new fake friends to party with, new attractive women to sleep with. It’s all painfully transient, and Lopatin touches on these tragic elements beautifully through his compositions.
The visuals are also inspired, especially when Shults lets his creativity loose with the camerawork (one shot that swirls in a tight circle in the middle of a limousine full of partygoers is dizzyingly fast). But even when the film is at its most inspired, it is impossible not to feel the influence of the Safdie Brothers (even if that’s partly down to Lopatin’s familiar musical style). There are much more entertaining visual flourishes in this than The Idol, but both works fall prey to a sleek look that belies any kind of feeling suffused through their visual presentation. As one will learn once the plot truly kicks into gear, this film’s version of reality is fairly dreamlike, but it’s more flashy than impressionistic, a shiny gloss painted over a hollow shell at its core.
Of course, one could defend this by saying that emptiness is the point of the whole experience, and they would be right to an extent. But while Abel’s lifestyle is depressingly thin, that doesn’t mean this protagonist should be, too. It’s easy to sympathise with his struggles, and despite how relentlessly the actor been criticised (and outright mocked) for his perceived lack of ability, Tesfaye is able to believably sell most of these moments. But while he presents talent as an actor, he’s nowhere near as dynamic or capable of interiority as his roles in Hurry Up Tomorrow and The Idol require. Meanwhile, the flashy camerawork makes for good entertainment, but like Abel’s highs from performing and partying, it wears off quickly, with little to chew on or absorb.
You’re left waiting for the mysterious Anima (Jenna Ortega) to show up in Abel’s life and give some purpose to this narrative. She’s a young woman with a mysterious past who is first seen burning down a derelict house in a remote area. There’s something ethereal about her presence in this scene, coming across as the manifestation of a traumatised soul laying waste to early memories. You imagine that this is a childhood home (or a metaphor for one, at least) that’s been burned down by a character who may not be a character in the traditional sense at all. There’s something hazy and undefined about her existence; all that can be trusted is that, in some way or another, her and Abel are inextricably linked. Ignoring the pay-offs to these ideas for a moment, her presence is intriguing.
Anima is a super-fan of the artist who can recognise his pain and see through the rest of the screaming, mindless, and rabid fans in the audience. (God forbid you enjoy a concert for what it provides you, rather than contemplate on how its performer is really just a sad boy at heart). Hurry Up Tomorrow is at its best when it represents the dual realities of a hollow yet suffocating existence, where the pressures of touring and the highs it provides give way to a profoundly lonely feeling. Anima’s presence provides some much-needed comfort and authentic joy for Abel. You feel relieved for the protagonist, but also relieved for yourself, too, after having to wade through this bleak and superficial world.
As the film’s stakes rise, the discrepancy between Tesfaye’s and Ortega’s acting ability widens. As always, Ortega is excellent, though this thin role presents yet another career choice where her talents are largely wasted. As for Tesfaye, he could do very well playing minor or supporting parts, but there are a number of scenes in Hurry Up Tomorrow that suggest he’s bitten off more than he can chew as a leading man. And since he’s playing a fictionalised version of himself, he should be the ideal candidate for the role, yet seems to get worse the more urgent this protagonist’s problems become.
Descending fully into nightmarish territory, the film’s third act has plenty of creative visuals to keep viewers stimulated, but even if its final 20-minute stretch wasn’t as abysmal as it is, this story is so thin in its plotting and meaning that it is only worth a watch in cinemas. At least in that environment, Hurry Up Tomorrow’s flashy visuals and excellent sound design / score can be fully appreciated. Otherwise, it’s best left ignored.
It’s hard not to admire Tesfaye’s boldness here, especially after the critical disaster that was The Idol. He’s clearly trying, and the movie’s final shot actually ties the whole experience of Hurry Up Tomorrow together very well, but the scenes preceding it are so painful that there’s little fun in teasing out what it all means afterwards. I’m tempted to say that only avid fans of The Weeknd will be invested in the film’s final act, but even they will probably be laughing at Hurry Up Tomorrow’s weak attempt at crystallising its message on what it takes to be an artist and celebrity. There’s certainly no faulting this musician-turned-filmmaker’s vision, but he would be wise to cut his teeth on smaller roles and stories that don’t feel like vanity projects, lest he wind up with a third project that isn’t just criticised, but brutalised, by critics. Hurry Up Tomorrow isn’t quite as bad as those scathing reviews suggest, but a god-awful third act that the entire film hinges upon does leave a sour taste in one’s mouth once the end credits roll.
Hurry Up Tomorrow is now available on Premium Video on Demand.