I knew I was going to dislike Blink Twice, Zoe Kravitz’s directorial debut, as soon as the film opened with a “trigger warning,” cautioning audiences of the forthcoming depictions of violence.
A filmmaker that treats their audience like children is unlikely to have anything interesting or insightful to say. The film only spirals downward from there. Naomi Ackie plays Frida, a waitress at a catering company, living in a disheveled dump of an apartment without any career or life aspirations to speak of.
Her ambitions are shallow, limited to fraternizing with champagne-sipping celebrities and millionaires. She dreams exclusively of emulating their lifestyle but is never seen doing any actual work. Her desperation for validation from the rich is so obvious that even her boss warns her to be “more invisible,” cautioning her against flirting with the affluent guests.
Predictably, she is soon hypnotized by the charismatic aura of Slater (Channing Tatum), an ostensible tech billionaire. A career-limiting gaffe—spilling sparkling wine all over someone’s lap—somehow catches the attention of the tuxedoed mogul. After a brief introduction, Slater, holding her hand, parades her around to meet all his friends and colleagues, who are, as the scene unsubtly emphasizes, exclusively white men. As the evening winds down, Slater, reluctant to say goodbye, spontaneously invites Frida and her friend to his private island estate for an indefinite stay.
What could possibly go wrong? The plot unfolds sluggishly, spending the first hour showcasing the endless cycle of drugs and aimless partying that Frida, Slater, and the rest of the crew indulge in. Days are spent sipping champagne by the pool, while nights are lost in a haze of psychedelics, only to wake up and do it all over again, like a hollow, repetitive version of Groundhog Day. Predictably, the girls eventually realize that something far more sinister is afoot, but by then, any suspense has already fizzled out.
What initially appears to be an idyllic, verdant party haven quickly reveals itself to be a nightmare: a group of handsome, wealthy men on a private island, luring women to drug, assault, and erase their memories by morning. The absurdity is hard to ignore—whether it’s the idea that Channing Tatum, cast as a bumbling, brawny buffoon, is somehow a Silicon Valley tech genius, or the notion that a handsome billionaire would need such a psychotic scheme to attract women.
The story feels entirely contrived, as if a predetermined political message was awkwardly reverse engineered into a plot that struggles to justify its existence. Kravitz’s narrative hinges on the audience’s inherent distrust of Slater and his tech-bro entourage while expecting sympathy for Frida, the supposed victim of circumstance. However, the film does little to earn this sympathy beyond leaning on superficial identities: privileged white men pitted against a diverse ensemble of economically disadvantaged women.
The irony is palpable. While Blink Twice tries to vilify the white male archetype, it’s Zoe Kravitz—nepo-baby daughter of music icon Lenny Kravitz—who has far more in common with Slater than Frida. It’s no wonder the protagonist comes off as shallow—she mirrors the very privilege that brought this film to life. Though Blink Twice borrows heavily from obvious contemporary influences like Don’t Worry Darling (2022), Get Out (2017), and even Dinner for Schmucks (2010)—the latter with its conceit of wealthy friends inviting strangers under nefarious pretenses—it lacks the compelling characters that made those films memorable.
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Frida embodies nothing but the vanity of riches, happily indulging in Slater’s extravagant lifestyle without doing any of the work required to earn it. While she certainly didn’t deserve the fate that befell her, it’s hard to muster any real empathy.
Much like the rest of this movie, blink twice and it’s forgotten.
Harry Khachatrian (@Harry1T6) is a film critic for the Washington Examiner’s Beltway Confidential blog and a computer engineer in Toronto pursuing his MBA.