Eddington

Describing Eddington as a neo-western might be the most fitting way to summarise Ari Aster's 2025 dark comedy-drama-though even that hardly scratches the surface.

That said, I felt I needed a full ten minutes of silence after the credits rolled, just to process what I'd witnessed.

It's an Ari Aster film, after all, so if you're familiar with his work, you'll know to expect a whirlwind of emotional and thematic disarray. But Eddington isn't just messy-it's exquisite, unfiltered chaos.

If you've seen the trailer, don't be misled. It barely teases the disorienting spiral that unfolds. The story kicks off in May 2020, amidst the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

What begins as a snapshot of public hysteria-conspiracy theories, anti-vaxxers, and the fear-soaked atmosphere-rapidly morphs into something darker and more disturbingly real.

We've spent the past five years collectively unmoored-adrift in chaos, where appearances deceive and identities dissolve. It sometimes feels like a failed social mutation-one born from freedom pushed to its breaking point-an evolutionary misstep we fought to achieve, only to have it turn against us.

Let's be clear: freedom is a vital human right. But when it becomes indistinguishable from anarchic self-destruction, something has clearly gone awry.

At its core, Eddington follows a standoff between small-town sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) and Mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), set in the fictional town of Eddington, New Mexico.

Their clash is both personal and political-complicated by Garcia's fraught history with Cross's wife, Louise (Emma Stone), and mother-in-law, Dawn (Deirdre O'Connell).

Aster revisits his obsession with overbearing maternal figures, folding that tension seamlessly into the wider conflict as the two men find themselves on opposing sides of the mask debate.

The film is deliberately provocative, often hollow by design, and it's a difficult piece to review. You'll laugh, you'll wince, you'll question what you're watching-and you certainly won't find it comforting.

Aster touches on themes like racial division, though arguably without much new to say. The Black Lives Matter movement is clearly present in the film's DNA, but its representation feels muddled-more gestured at than fully explored.

Before it can fully engage with those ideas, the film veers off into another subplot filled with irrationality, violence, and distraction-perhaps intentionally mirroring how public attention shifted in real time.

What he does capture is the paranoia, anxiety, and social fragmentation that exploded when lockdowns began and the world collectively panicked. He blends it into a fever dream of confusion and satire, offering no answers-just raw sensation.

Much of the chaos is filtered through the lens of social media, which becomes the film's true stage. It's where the news is curated, where lies take root, and where misinformation thrives.

To emphasize this aspect, the film extensively employs the screenlife technique, blending traditional storytelling with found-footage and mockumentary styles. And let me tell you, it works remarkably well, enhancing the overall sense of realism.

Paranoia spreads like wildfire, jokes mutate into threats, and morality dissolves into a game of psychological warfare, disinformation, and mass manipulation.

Unsurprisingly, Eddington has sharply divided critics-and will likely do the same with audiences. Expect fiery debates. Some will praise its fearless ambition; others will dismiss it as bloated, incoherent, or pretentious. And honestly, that may be exactly what Aster intended.

As always, his visual storytelling is exceptional. Darius Khondji's cinematography (Uncut Gems, The Immigrant) balances the film's absurdity and dread with a sharp, immersive eye. Lucian Johnston's editing keeps the pacing surprisingly taut, especially for a film that thrives on disorientation.

Aster's visual language for violence remains as potent as ever. When revenge time comes, it hits with darkly funny moments-especially during 'The Antifa Massacre,' which delivers shocking laughs and gory satisfaction in true Ari Aster fashion.

But after all that-did I like it?

There's brilliance in Eddington-but perhaps brilliance trapped in a maze of its own ambition, leaving something essential just out of reach.

The ride remains undeniably compelling. Ari Aster remains one of the most fascinating directors working today.

But, as with Beau Is Afraid, he tests the limits of narrative and patience. There's brilliance in Eddington, but there's also a sense of something missing-maybe too much of everything, all at once.

This isn't a comfort film to watch. It won't leave you with a clear head. In fact, you'll probably leave the cinema clutching your skull, trying to piece together the fragments.

My advice? Watch it with a good friend-or a few-who appreciate psychologically demanding cinema.

Because once the screen fades to black, the real film begins-in your head, and in the conversations that follow.

So, what does dark comedy mean, exactly ... ?

"Eddington," which falls under that genre on the Internet Movie Database, isn't the first movie that's left me asking the question. It's just the most recent.

The film is also labeled a Contemporary Western, a concept easier to grasp.

Eddington is the name of a tiny, out-of-the-way New Mexico town, grappling - as the rest of the country was when the story opens in 2020 - with the outbreak of the Covid pandemic.

You can't get much more contemporary than that.

Written and directed by Ari Aster, who has developed a cult following for leading audiences into scary sometimes gross places, its cast is heavy with Oscar winners and nominees. Joaquin Phoenix, Emma Stone, Pablo Pascal, Dierdre O'Connell, Michael Ward and Austen Butler, for openers.

Phoenix plays Eddington's Sheriff Joe Cross, a sad-sack lawman who's got about as much as he can handle with his wife Louise (Stone) who doesn't love him ; her mother Dawn (O'Connell) whose favorite pastime is Googling conspiracy theories; and that Covid mask mandate that he's supposed to be enforcing.

Joe's got asthma, you see, which makes it hard for him to breathe whenever he tries to put the danged mask on.

Joe's not a political person, per se. The circumstances that lead him to run against incumbent Ted Garcia (Pascal) to become Eddington's mayor are more a matter of being pushed past his breaking point by one too many matters beyond his control.

There's the new AI data center that's been proposed for development that has local conservationists up in arms. There's the George Floyd killing in Minneapolis that's all over the news and has the town's teenage population rioting on Main Street. There's the loco crazy homeless guy, who always shows up to make matters worse. There are the rumors that the current mayor slept with Sheriff Joe's wife, before unceremoniously dumping her ... Aha, so maybe dark comedy is about trying to find the yuks in what Henry David Thoreau called "lives of quiet desperation." That was the way Thoreau described "the mass of men" in his 1854 masterpiece "Walden." No one has summed things up better in the almost two centuries since.

Or maybe dark comedy is more a matter of dystopian satire, trying to whistle our way past the graveyard of civilization.

Whatever it's called, writer-director Aster clearly has a lot on his mind before he lets the action onscreen devolve into a hail of unholy gunfire, explosions and chaos in the third act.

Considering that they're both running for mayor, it's noteworthy what horrible communicators Sheriff Joe and incumbent Ted Garcia are. Joe has a habit of speaking his mind before his mind's made up. Ted is way better in TV commercials than in actuality. Both guys reveal the absence of anything like actual confidence every time they open their mouths.

The real powers in their world are behind the scenes, creating that water-sucking, resource-depleting high-tech data center, or infiltrating high-minded political demonstrations with false flag mercenaries Like an old-fashioned - as opposed to contemporary - Western, "Eddington's" setting is as much a character as the characters are. The saloon, church and wooden sidewalks may now be replaced with convenience marts, an historic Indian museum and a very convenient gun and ammo store, but there's still the sense of flimsy storefronts standing lonesome vigils a long way from the hills on the horizon on those windswept plains.

Likewise, Sheriff Joe's iPhone isn't in the credits, but it play a role as important as any character in the story. "Eddington" may be the first work of art made of misinformation. Social media is where that misinformation comes to life, festers and spreads like fungus. There's nothing like smart technology for making people stupid. Once you create artificial intelligence, actual intelligence is a flimsy defense indeed.

When it comes to polarized idiocy, filmmaker Aster doesn't take sides. The self-styled high-minded liberals are as gullible to online fictions as your standard garden-variety bigot. Some of the film's funniest scenes come when the teen demonstrators protesting the George Floyd killings tie themselves in moral knots trying to deny their own class and privilege. Aster's script suggests that actual pedophiles may far outnumber figments of conspiracy theory imagination - and may not be limited to one political party or another.

"Eddington" may be a work of genius. That's a saving grace, considering that none of its characters are particularly likable, it's disquieting to sit through, and its so-called humor hardly lightens the mood as you exit the theater into the actual dystopia waiting outside.

In 2019, Ari Aster struck many film fans as the new face of horror and quickly attached him to the genre. In 2025, Ari Aster has departed from that stereotype and is now seen (at least in my opinion) as a director who makes very polarizing and ambitious films that he wants to make. I gotta respect the guy for going out and doing that. Eddington, much like his 2023 film "Beau is Afraid" is that kind of film. It's ridiculously ambitious, busy, and absolutely bonkers. It's something that I feel only Aster could make. I'll agree with the critics when they say Aster covers a lot of subjects but doesn't really commit to most of them. He seems to kind of get lost in the moment of trying to satirize and summarize too many subjects of the COVID pandemic to the point of exhaustion. It's not his most successful film and it's certainly not going to please everyone, but I greatly admire the drive he put into it.

It's a meticulously crafted powder keg, and Aster lights the fuse with the precision of someone who knows exactly how long the fuse burns. The man doesn't make movies-he engineers experiences. This one? A contemporary western that hums with unease, like a desert wind carrying whispers of something off.

Aster's got a reputation for unsettling audiences, but here he trades pagan rituals and family trauma for the sun-bleached nihilism of New Mexico. The tension isn't in the jump scares-it's in the silence between glances, the way a sheriff's badge catches the light just a little too sharply. His camera lingers like a vulture circling, and the editing? Tight. No wasted movement. You'll feel every minute of its 148 runtime, but not because it drags. Because it grinds.

Joaquin Phoenix as the sheriff? He's all coiled ambition and swallowed rage, a man who's mastered the art of smiling without it touching his eyes. Emma Stone? She's in her element here, shifting from warmth to withering skepticism like a switchblade flicking open. And Pedro Pascal-quiet, calculating, a performance that says more in a raised eyebrow than most do in monologues.

If you're expecting another Midsommar, adjust your sights. This is a different breed-a dark comedy dressed in cowboy boots, where the jokes land like gut punches. The humor's bone-dry, the violence matter-of-fact, and the existential dread? Oh, it's there. Lurking in the background like a bad habit you can't quit.

Is it perfect? No. The third act's ambition occasionally outpaces its grip, and not every metaphor sticks the landing. But perfection's overrated. Eddington's a ride-a nasty, hypnotic, memorable ride. Aster's not asking you to like it. He's daring you to look away.

My advice? Don't.

Its thesis is clear. We're all hypocrites. How the old generation has a stick up their ***, too rigid to embrace meaningful change, while the younger generation-damned from birth by social screens, performs outrage on Instagram in hopes of sleeping with Sarah.

Ari Aster skewers each political perspective, which in turn makes up a large majority of unhappy letterboxd reviewers, ironically complementing the film's punchline. No matter where you stand, it's naive to believe stupidity is exclusive to one side.

All in all, it's a film less concerned with who's right and more obsessed with how dumb it all looks from a distance.