Nate At The Movies

Knowing what I know now about this movie, I may not be the best person to review Hurry Up Tomorrow, given how little I knew about Abel Tesfaye’s personal life (in reading Reddit threads afterwards, knowing his life story seemed to be insanely important) and the corresponding album of the same name. Hurry Up Tomorrow was more confusing than it should’ve been if I had done my research, though I was still able to find aspects and moments that I enjoyed amidst my Weeknd whiplash. At the same time, though, I’m not saying that Hurry Up Tomorrow would’ve been the best film I’ve seen this year if I was informed; there were still a lot of misses, and we’ll get to those.

I’d like to start with what I thought was the beginning of the movie: the music video for the song “Hurry Up Tomorrow”. This was an amazing sequence with an even better song—maybe one of my favorite from The Weeknd (I’m listening to it as I write this review), but I was a bit thrown off by the trailing advertisement for the album (that, up until that point, I didn’t know existed).

Once the studio logos started, I was anxiously awaiting moments as powerful as that opening music video. Instead, I had to wade through sequences of crying Jenna Ortegas and cheesy, dude bro conversations between Tesfaye and an underwhelming Barry Keoghan. I have never really been a fan of Keoghan, but I’m trying to enjoy his work since he’s so popular right now; I haven’t yet found a film of his that I really loved. The first hour of the film made little sense and had little momentum, save the handful of performances from Tesfaye that livened up the theater and almost sent me into epileptic shock.

The second half of the film—where Tesfaye and Ortega begin a rocky, confusing, somewhat abusive relationship—was the most interesting part of the film, and though I never picked up on the subtext and real-life parallels (Ortega’s character is more interesting upon my reading of Reddit threads where Tesfaye’s life story is common knowledge), the raw emotion and intensity of those final scenes left a more positive impression of the film upon my leaving the theater.

Did I understand what I had just watched? Nope. But could I see that Hurry Up Tomorrow was a sobering, searing self-reflection for Tesfaye, and one that utilized insomnia-induced hallucinogenic episodes (that I could imagine Tesfaye has struggled with in reality—insomniacs, unite!) to often confusing, sometimes profound effect? Of course.

Hurry Up Tomorrow was an absolute mess—some poor acting and pacing, storytelling issues and a narrative that is unforgiving to entry-level The Weeknd fans, yet an interesting take on the consequences of fame, told by a man who’s lived it and has some acting chops, even with a couple tonal misfires (Tesfaye singing while covered in gasoline, and his “Shut the fuck up!”s directed at Ortega, resulted in some probably unwanted stifled laughs). The biggest compliment I can give this film is that it left quite the impression, and I’ve been thinking about it since I left the theater.