Zoë Kravitz Aims to Open Eyes With Blink Twice

As a film whose working title was Pussy Island, it’s to be expected that the subject matter of Blink Twice is “controversial.” That is, if one is “off-put” by the notion that women are still “bitter” about men’s behavior—even after all the supposed progress that’s occurred in the wake of #MeToo. And yes, it’s no coincidence that Zoë Kravitz first started writing the screenplay (with E.T. Feigenbaum, who also wrote an episode of the Kravitz-starring High Fidelity) the same year that the “male backlash” began. Or rather, the appropriate and long overdue response to an abuse of power so entrenched in “the system,” it took ousting many men at the top for anything to start making a difference.

Some of those men at the top were known for going to Little Saint James Island a.k.a. “Epstein Island.” Like Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew and Donald Trump. None of these men ever got quite the smackdown that Harvey Weinstein did, but there was no denying that further ignominy befell their already less than upstanding reputations when it came to being pervy sexual abusers. Something that happens to Blink Twice’s own “Jeffrey Epstein,” Slater King (Channing Tatum). A tech billionaire that someone like Frida (Naomi Ackie) can’t help but lust after and idolize—something we see as she scrolls through her phone and adoringly watches an interview he gives about how he’s a “changed man” now that he’s “taken some time” to “reassess” himself and his priorities on the remote island he currently lives on (and, needless to say, owns). It’s all very familiar-sounding, with no shortage of potential inspirations for Kravitz when it comes to similar rich douchebags from which to mine material.

As Frida watches the interview on the toilet, transfixed, her drooling is interrupted by her best friend and roommate, Jess (Alia Shawkat). When Frida admits she doesn’t have her portion of the money for the super because she’s invested it in something else for the two of them, Jess is surprisingly chill about it. Almost as if there’s nothing Frida could do that would ever make Jess turn her back. Such is the nature of a truly strong female friendship bond. By the same token, that doesn’t mean that women don’t get in their fair share of contentious spats, one of which arises between Jess and Frida when, while the two are at work (serving as cater waiters—or, for the more misogynistically-inclined, “cocktail waitresses”), Frida accuses Jess of having no self-respect because she keeps going back to the same toxic asshole every time they break up. This, of course, will turn out to be extremely ironic later on, when the biggest twist of Blink Twice comes to light, and viewers see that Frida has been doing exactly the same thing.

In any case, Frida immediately realizes how harsh she sounds and apologizes right away to Jess as they continue to prep for serving drinks at Slater’s big, fancy event (with their male boss annoyingly telling them, “Don’t forget to smile!”)—presumably something “benefit”-oriented. It doesn’t much matter to Frida, who is so unabashed in her eye-fucking of Slater from afar, that it comes as no surprise when she tells Jess that what she spent all her money on happened to be two gowns for each of them to wear so that they could infiltrate the event as guests rather than servers (though, to be honest, the gowns look more like they’re from Shein than, say, Chanel). Jess, ever the down-ass bitch, complies even though she is not even remotely affected by Slater’s looks or wealth. Eventually making a fool out of herself by tripping in the most visible way possible, Slater takes Frida under his wing at the event and, by the end, the two have such a “connection” that he decides to invite her and Jess back to his island with the entourage he’s been parading.

If it all sounds somewhat implausible, Kravitz is well-aware of that, stating during an interview with CBS News Sunday Morning, “I like playful filmmaking.” This is made apparent by her use of stark, all-white backdrops (think: Blur’s “The Universal” video, itself an homage to A Clockwork Orange) whenever the audience is in Slater’s world outside of the island, as though to emphasize that, to him, there are no gray areas. Kravitz also added, “I like when the audience has a sense of, ‘It’s a movie,’ you know what I mean? And we’re all in it together and it’s not reality.” But it is, indeed, very true to the reality of how power is so grossly abused by white men with billions (or even just millions) of dollars, finding loopholes for being as disgusting and depraved as they want to be no matter how much cancel culture continues to thrive post-#MeToo. In this case, that loophole is found through the manipulation of the five women on the island’s memory. In addition to Frida and Jess, there’s also Sarah (Adria Arjona), Camilla (Liz Caribel) and Heather (Trew Mullen), all of whom keep spraying themselves with a perfume called Desideria that’s strategically placed in their rooms, just begging them to use it. As Slater says, it’s made from a special “extract” of a flower that can only be found on the island. How convenient for him and his fellow rich white men that it also acts as a kind of super-charged Rohypnol.

It is the memory loss element of Blink Twice that most closely aligns it with Jordan Peele’s own seminal psychological thriller, Get Out. For the loss of each woman’s memories of the particularly traumatic events that happen to them during the night are what make them trapped inside a kind of “sunken place” during the day. Thus, prone to chirpily answering, almost Stepford wife-style, “I’m having a great time!” whenever Slater asks, “Are you having a good time?” Their muddled memory—almost tantamount to being lobotomized—makes it retroactively all the more cruel when they first arrive and a Polaroid is taken of the group as Vic (Christian Slater), Slater’s “right- and left-hand man,” shouts, “Everybody say, ‘Makin’ memories!’” The irony being, of course, that the women on the island will have no ability to recall what’s going on. What horrors are being wrought upon their bodies when night falls.

At one point, Slater promises a fellow rich man named, what else, Rich (Kyle MacLachlan) that he can do whatever he wants because: it’s like the more traumatic the event, the more readily they forget. And it is true—women’s minds are extremely adept at that form of self-protection, mainly because dealings with men in any sphere tend to be violating in some way or another, so “blotting out” becomes a kind of automatic coping mechanism. And in the world of rich men, violation is merely the rule, not the exception.

Of course, in these “polite” times, men like Slater feign going along with the “new world order.” For example, when the group arrives on the island and Stacy (Geena Davis, in a kind of Ghislaine Maxwell role) starts collecting everyone’s phone into a bag, Slater assures, “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t wanna do.” But, of course, the pressure to oblige him—one that is perennially ingrained within women—gets the better even of Jess. Even though it is she who is the one to be hit much more quickly with the revelation, “Did we just jet off to a billionaire’s island with a bunch of strangers?” For the number one rule learned by every millennial as a child was: don’t talk to or go anywhere with strangers. Frida insists, “He’s not a stranger. He’s Slater King.” Such is the danger of 1) parasocial relationships being intensely nurtured in a social media age and 2) the automatic carte blanche that powerful people—nay, powerful men—are given when it comes to trust. Despite all long-running evidence that suggests only inherent distrust ought to be placed in them.

It doesn’t take long for Frida and Jess to fall into the “routine” of the island. Which goes something like: wake up, get high, swim, start drinking, eat a dinner prepared by Cody (Simon Rex), another alpha male (though there are also beta males like Tom [Haley Joel Osment] and Lucas [Levon Hawke, a fellow nepo baby like Kravitz), get so trashed you “black out,” repeat. Soon enough, the days and nights all meld into one, with Frida and the others long ago losing track of what day it is or even how long they’ve been on the island. At one point, Frida asks Slater, “When are we leaving?” He shrugs, “Whenever you want.” Naturally, that’s not true, nor is it really an answer. Besides, he knows Frida will soon forget, informing her during one of their “intimate walks,” “Forgetting is a gift.”

Indeed, one would think that the female gender does have collective amnesia sometimes when considering how willing they are to “forgive” men for all their transgressions. And this, too, is another key theme of Blink Twice, which essentially posits the Carrie Bradshaw-penned question: “Can you ever really forgive, if you can’t forget?” As Slater will tell Frida during their final showdown, the answer is definitely no, resulting in an Oscar clip-type performance as he angrily repeats, “I’m sorry” to her and then demands if she forgives him yet. “No?,” he says when she doesn’t reply. Of course not.

Nor does she seem likely to ever forgive a woman like Stacy, who is not only complicit in what’s happening on the island, but also prefers the “ignorance is bliss” philosophy that Slater keeps promoting through Desideria. That Davis is involved in the film is also especially significant considering she runs the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, which “advocates for equal representation of women and men.” Blink Twice certainly has plenty of that. Though perhaps the most memorable character out of anyone is the woman billed as “Badass Maid” (María Elena Olivares). Tasked primarily with catching the snakes on the island that, according to Slater, have become a blight, it is she who will become the savior of the oppressed in this fucked-up situation.

As for Frida’s past history with Slater (which she, of course, forgot), it begs the question: are people—particularly women—doomed to repeatedly gravitate toward the same toxic situation so long as it “feels good” enough of the time to forget, so to speak, about how bad it is overall? The conclusion of the film would like to make viewers believe otherwise, ending on a “hopeful” even if “sweet revenge” note.

As for changing the name from Pussy Island to Blink Twice, it wasn’t just because marketing the film was going to be nothing short of an ordeal with the MPA’s censorship limitations, but also because, as Kravitz found, “Interestingly enough, after researching it, women were offended by the word, and women seeing the title were saying, ‘I don’t want to see that movie,’ which is part of the reason I wanted to try and use the word, which is trying to reclaim the word, and not make it something that we’re so uncomfortable using. But we’re not there yet. And I think that’s something I have the responsibility as a filmmaker to listen to.”

Perhaps if women had taken the word in the spirit intended when it refers to callow men, there might have been more acceptance. However, regardless of the title change, Blink Twice will undoubtedly still come across as “hardcore” to plenty of filmgoers. Mainly the ones who don’t like to see a mirror held up to a society run by soulless, amoral, bacchanalian knaves. Post-#MeToo or not.