There is obviously no shortage of Netflix original movies that I will just skip. I mean Netflix’s algorithm is terrible about promoting them, but they’re also just so rarely worth the time given how little engagement they get, and even less critical appraisal. They are what gives Netflix its’ reputation as a lukewarm content machine. For every Roma, Okja, The Other Side of the Wind, Marriage Story, Uncut Gems, The Irishman, Da 5 Bloods or The Power of the Dog, there are a dozen or so middling projects that do little more than keep the lights on. A lot of these seem to be cheap coming-of-age dramedies, and while there can be a few unexpected gems there like The Half of It or All Together Now, it’s not near enough to garner any sort of confidence (I have not and probably will not see a single Kissing Booth movie).
So why am I reviewing Look Both Ways, a recent Netflix teen movie starring Lili Reinhart that dropped this weekend to a customary lack of buzz? Well, because it happens to be the U.S.-directing debut of Wanuri Kahiu, the innovative Kenyan director behind the wonderful and gorgeous queer drama Rafiki from a few years ago. She’s been on the verge of breaking out in the American industry for a while now (she’s got several projects in development), so I felt this was significant enough then to give it a chance. Turns out it’s not.
That’s not to say the movie is particularly bad, but it’s not particularly good either. It has measured ambitions and it mostly hits them, but it is completely unremarkable -which does kind of suck given what I’d hoped for from its’ director and even its’ provocative premise. If nothing else it fits right in in 2022 as it is technically another multiverse movie.
The movie is about an ambitious impending college grad Natalie (Reinhart), who in the wake of finals week has sex with her until then platonic friend Gabe (Danny Ramirez). A couple weeks later at a sorority party she takes a pregnancy test and the story splits into parallel realities based on the result. Testing negative, she follows her dreams out to L.A. to work in the animation industry. Testing positive, she decides to have the baby and stay in Austin with Gabe and her parents. The movie explores the highs and lows of each of these life paths over the course of several years and how Natalie is changed by them.
On paper this has the potential to be a captivating character study, a meditation on how mere chance can have large, lasting consequences. Like the Gwyneth Paltrow movie Sliding Doors, or perhaps more popularly the “Remedial Chaos Theory” episode of Community. And I really like movies that apply a magical or speculative spin to simple romantic-comedy or drama narratives, making them in the process more profound -I loved About Time for that. But there are issues with the way this movie goes about its’ conceit, starting with centring the root of these divergent paths on a potential pregnancy. It’s a very rote notion to start, I can imagine the writer just hearing one of the dozens of variations on the “having a child will change your life” mantra and extrapolating a very literal premise out of it. Secondly, the movie seems to bend over backwards to make the result of the test more definitive than it is. The things she feels compelled to give up learning of her pregnancy are somewhat arbitrary -at least it comes off that way. The dissonance doesn’t need to be so drastic. There is also the fact of course that going through with the pregnancy is a choice in and of itself. Abortion is brought up and she decides against it, but given the inconvenience, her unpreparedness, and how much of her aspirations she stands to lose, the unanswered question of why she doesn’t choose to terminate the pregnancy becomes a more glaring omission. Especially because for as much as having a baby is the key point of difference in the parallel lives, the child ultimately doesn’t feel all that crucial. The storyline following Natalie the mother is as much occupied with her relationship with Gabe and her career prospects as it is with little Rosie (her dual romances are the schmaltzy driving force of both her lives). Obviously her life doesn’t need to revolve around the kid, but there are significant scenes in this reality where Rosie is applied as a plot device -a mere embodiment of Natalie’s sacrifices bordering on a burden.
Initially the life where she has the baby is fairly bleak, Natalie sadly watching as her best friend goes off to California, she forced to stay at home -a dim overcast texturing everything. Where the world is fresh with opportunity in the other timeline, the one where she has the baby is plagued by struggle, anxiety, and mediocrity. She settles and the picture is dry. Alternatively, her animation career is soon beset by roadblocks and a not terribly considerate boss played by Nia Long. But she has the emotional support of best friend Cara (Aisha Dee) and her boyfriend Jake (David Corenswet), who is a more charismatic match than Gabe. In fact, the source of any strife in this reality is career prospects that don’t live up to her ideal. Both trajectories are inherently shallow, just for different reasons. Baby-life never sells Natalie’s love for Rosie as something that makes the banality worthwhile (you’re just supposed to assume it does) while California-life comes with a couple rude awakenings but is dependent on sympathy with her unreasonable expectations. Either way it’s not a terribly original or engaging narrative.
Although with some script polishing they could be. The dominant idea is still interesting, and the movie often comes close to taking advantage of it’s premise in exciting or emotionally resonant ways. But it comes short of ever achieving the profundities it evokes, which is a real shame. The way it implies a kind of inevitable circular fate for both Natalies is curious in a depressing sort of way –but the movie just shrugs that matter off as it resolves each story with fitting triteness. April Prosser’s screenplay is also often a mess of cliché character development, uninspired dialogue, and dull structure. There is no organic way the film transitions between its’ two realities, rarely is there connective or thematic tissue between what’s happening to one Natalie and the other. And I’m disappointed Kahiu didn’t find some creative modes of contrast: lighting cues, match cuts, anything to make it more visually interesting. The only touch of style is a sketch motif that pops up just a couple times (and so spread out that you forget about it), and is itself by now also a cliché of teen-oriented media. The best thing I can say for the cast is that they are making a worthy attempt, Reinhart especially, who is a credited executive producer. Her parents are played by Andrea Savage and Luke Wilson, and sadly you can tell that a movie’s not worth much these days if its’ got Luke Wilson in it.
Wanuri Kahiu is a director-for-hire on this film and doesn’t seem terribly engaged with the material. It’s a shame she doesn’t manage to elevate it and her work simply fades into the background as though it were a Marvel movie. Particularly after the lush vibrancy of Rafiki, it’s disappointing to see her name attached to something so visually tepid. Occasionally the movie shows its’ ponderous side and in those moments a fuller sense is hinted at of what Look Both Ways could have been capable of. Like Natalie it has a vision; and like Natalie it isn’t prepared to make anything of it.
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