Zoe Kravitz, daughter of Lenny, has grown up in a world of privilege and glamour. So it makes sense that it – and the monsters that lurk within – is what she explores in her first film as director: a psychological thriller set on the private island of a tech bro billionaire and a deeply entertaining, if flimsy, story of feminist, eat-the-rich revenge. Frida (Naomi Ackie) is a minimum-wage worker for a catering company and a part-time nail technician, living with her bestie Jess (Alia Shawkat).
At one of the events she’s working, she hits it off with Slater King, the aforementioned billionaire played by Channing Tatum with characteristic loose, swaggering charm. Seemingly on a whim, he invites Frida and Jess along with a small group of friends to his tropical island. Upon arrival, Frida and her friends must deposit their phones into a bag and give them to Slater’s assistant (played by a manic Geena Davis in a fun, small role).
This is ostensibly to create a relaxed atmosphere, and cut down on the complications of real life. The same goes for the identical matching white outfits for female guests – white bikinis and sarongs for day and white cocktail dresses for night, as though they’re in a spa. It’s weird, but maybe it’s just how rich people operate, Frida reasons to her friend.
Here is where this turns from a funny, rollicking film, capturing the luxury of an endless beach holiday with a “tsunami of champagne” and boutique drugs, into something overwhelmingly, shockingly dark. The ominous hints at something unpleasant on the island grow too big to ignore, and the tone changes abruptly. The women on the island – until now mostly disparate and preening – must work together to strike back at the bizarre and horrific mind-control plot they have found themselves trapped inside.
Read Next This utterly absorbing Taliban documentary is a must-watch Kravitz owes much to Jordan Peele’s paradigm-shifting Get Out – as in that film, a fish-out-of-water character realises that a conspiracy against them is occurring under their nose. But Blink Twice does not dig as deeply into the issues it touches on like sexual exploitation, white privilege, cancel culture and wealth, and moves too fast in its plotting to linger much on the details, making it far less powerful. The final act is a hyper-violent and cathartic exploration of trauma; it’s not exactly mining fresh territory, but Kravitz has style and good timing, and Ackie is fantastic in the lead, capable of conveying both “cool girl” and absolute eye-bolting horror.
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