Ari Aster’s Eddington: No Easy Answers
Eddington (2025)
Directed by Ari Aster
Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Emma Stone, Pedro Pascal and Austin Butler
The ancient Greek philosopher Socrates is best known for his ability to argue. There’s literally a method named after him. He was a master at pulling apart the claims of his fellow citizens. He would question their definitions, poke holes in their assumptions, and ultimately get them to redefine their terms in a way that contradicted their original claim. He was so good at this, the person arguing with him would often leave because they found themselves at a logical impasse — they were too puzzled. That state of puzzlement is known as aporia.
Ari Aster’s latest film, Eddington, left me with a similar sense of aporia. And I’m not really sure why.
I am now an Aster completist. I’m also an elitist, but that’s another story. With the Eddington feather added to my cap, I’ve seen all of Ari Aster’s feature-length films. It’s fair to say I know the guy — not personally, but I know his work. And from a purely cinematic standpoint, I’d say he’s a master of his craft.
All of Aster’s films have left me feeling puzzled — sometimes up to my neck in aporia. With his first film, 2018’s Hereditary, he pulled apart my sense of self and left me questioning everything. His second film, 2019’s Midsommar, left me wondering if Aster was a one-and-done talent. 2023’s Beau Is Afraid, his third film, left me deeply puzzled in a slack-jawed, “What the fuck?” kind of way.
And now there’s Eddington. I am in awe of Aster’s ability to weave together so much of what characterized the COVID-19 pandemic into one film. With his immense storytelling talent, he turns a fictitious town and its citizens into a microcosm of America. It’s a brilliant story. Reflecting on it as I write this review, I’m dumbstruck by the imaginative power Aster employed to plot a tale of such magnitude.
There is so much to love and admire in Eddington, especially the performances. Joaquin Phoenix is another master of his craft, and what I appreciate most about his portrayal of Joe Cross is the humanity he brings to each scene. Cross is the county sheriff struggling to maintain order in Eddington and at home. The story revolves around the tensions in his personal life and the rising tensions in the city he tries to protect. Phoenix and Aster are a beautiful pairing, and even though Phoenix sold every moment as Beau in Beau Is Afraid, I wasn’t attached to the character. I wasn’t concerned for him in the least. I was just along for his ride. Cross, on the other hand, is deeply flawed and, in a weird way, relatable. Both Beau and Sheriff Cross are pathetic people. In the case of Beau, his patheticness is alienating. In the case of Cross, it’s engaging.
Whether it’s the duplicitous leadership of Mayor Ted Garcia, played by Pedro Pascal, or the isolating depression endured by Cross’s wife, Louise (played by Emma Stone), every cultural tension of the pandemic is embodied by someone living in the fictional town of Eddington, New Mexico. I’d say Deirdre O’Connell’s portrayal of Joe’s stepmom, Dawn, was a standout for me. Her role is crucial to the film’s constant tensions and ultimate release. Deirdre carries the weight of that role effortlessly. But I would say my favorite performance came from Austin Butler as Vernon Peak. Butler proves time and again that he can play anything. I thought he was fantastic in Dune: Part Two, and his performance as Elvis absolutely deserved every award. In Eddington, his role is minor, but he sells it like sand to a desert — unnecessary, but irresistible.
Aster proves that auteur theory is alive and well. Eddington feels like his film. His signature is all over it, and as a fan, I’m always curious to know what influenced his style.
It’s difficult, but I try to avoid promotional material about a film before seeing it. But when a discussion between Aster and SNL alumnus Bill Hader popped up on my YouTube feed, I couldn’t resist. Both men are super film nerds — which is why I love listening to them talk — and during their discussion, a notable influence on both was revealed. It’s called Jam. Jam is a short-lived, deeply unsettling BBC sketch show from 2000 that might loosely be described as comedic. It clearly made Aster and Hader laugh. But it also repulsed them in equal measure. Hader admitted that Jam was a deep-cut favorite he shared with the creative force behind South Park, and when Aster recounted sketches from the show, his whole face lit up. I mention this because, after watching a few of the sketches myself, I can see Jam’s influence slathered all over Aster’s oeuvre. One of his short films, 2011’s The Strange Thing About the Johnsons, is a great example of this influence. To quote my Letterboxd review: “It’s a young man’s idea of sophisticated transgression. Feels like it came from the imagination of someone who has never done a transgressive act in their whole life, and this was their chance to make a giant middle finger.” I would argue that Beau Is Afraid suffers from the same affliction. It tried too hard to be transgressive, and in trying too hard, failed to transgress. Eddington, however, is able to elevate that juvenile transgression to a level that is far more sophisticated.
It might also be the case that shows such as Jam completely severed themselves from the conventions commonly found in films from Hollywood’s Golden Age. In these films, the hero wore white, and the villain wore black. During the inevitable showdown between these titans, the hero prevailed. Order was restored. But over the decades, those conventions broke down and evolved into richer complexities. A great example of this is found in the Westerns of John Ford. In his first film with the iconic John Wayne, Stagecoach, the hero’s moral character was straight and to the point. That was in 1939. By 1956’s The Searchers, Ford had molded a new Western archetype: Ethan Edwards, whose moral compass misleads us to this day. If Jam has a moral compass, it would be the kind caught in an electromagnetic storm where the dial is constantly spinning.
As a student of film and literature, Ari Aster is fully aware of the conventions that preceded his works and persist to this day. And he plays with them to great effect. In Eddington, he shows how the pandemic upended and accelerated growing trends in our notions of justice, freedom and equality. In sharp contrast to the gradual evolution of John Ford’s archetypes, Eddington serves as a metaphor for the violent and irrevocable shifts in American culture that occurred over the course of one year.
Simon Pegg — the British actor, writer and comedian best known for Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz and the Mission: Impossible series — was recently interviewed for the Criterion Closet, a YouTube program where film industry notables select some of their favorite films from wall-to-wall shelves full of classics. One film Pegg picked was David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. He said he and his daughter watched it together. “She hated it,” he said, “but she hated it for exactly the reasons that David Lynch wanted you to hate it.” The film got under her skin, and she was still talking about it the next day. He told her, “Sometimes entertainment is an overrated function of art. Sometimes being made uncomfortable is the point.”
As the credits rolled for Eddington, I felt a powerful sense of aporia. I was befuddled. When I think back on what the world went through during COVID, how we conducted ourselves, and the new reality that emerged in its wake, it all feels paradoxical — like a puzzling impasse. It feels like the conventions that defined our world were pulled apart and overly examined. But are we any wiser? A lot of people are going to dislike Eddington because they didn’t find it entertaining — and because it puzzled them. But what if that was the point? Will viewers wrestle with challenging questions as they leave the theater? Or will we all continue to live unexamined lives, demanding more entertainment and making new claims full of as many contradictions as the ones the pandemic pulled apart? I don’t know. But I think so.