Movie Review: Hurry Up Tomorrow

Musical acts have a long, mixed history of converting their fame into movie stardom. The Beatles, Madonna, Whitney Houston, David Bowie, Eminem, the Spice Girls, and more have tried their hand in Hollywood, sometimes as themselves, sometimes as actors, and sometimes as a mix of both. A few have managed to pull it off, but more often than not the end result winds up with a cult following at best rather than widespread acclaim or big box office dollars. The Weeknd’s pretentious vanity project Hurry Up Tomorrow will be lucky to achieve the cult following, as I can’t even imagine his fans enjoying it without having to convince themselves that they did.

In a story that appears to want to expose the madness behind the beauty, The Weeknd (aka Abel Tesfaye) portrays himself struggling with the demands of touring while also dealing with a messy breakup that sounds as if it’s his fault. He finds it harder and harder to take the stage, but his manager Lee (Barry Keoghan) consistently manages to use motivational speeches and drugs to get him out there. During one performance his voice gives out in the middle of the song and he panics, but he notices a young woman in the crowd with whom he feels strangely connected. Known as Anima (Jenna Ortega), which in Medieval times was the word for “psyche”, she’s been on her own unexplained, arson-filled journey on the way to the concert, and after their shared moment she decides that he needs her help. She all too easily sneaks her way backstage, literally runs into him, and then heads out for a night together that ends with them back in his hotel room.

The movie goes to some strange places, becoming sort of a horror/thriller by the end, with obvious nods to better films like The Shining and Misery, but none of it seems to be in service of anything. The script, by Tesfaye, Reza Fahim, and director Trey Edward Shults, doesn’t really build up any momentum, instead allowing us to drift through the story, vaguely curious about where it’s all going. Shults and cinematographer Chayse Irvin make sure the screen is almost constantly filled with beautiful imagery, but that isn’t enough to keep things from getting boring. Ortega and Keoghan comport themselves well, giving the material all that they can, but Tesfaye’s performance is less convincing. He isn’t a terrible actor by any means, but he isn’t great either.

Hurry Up Tomorrow winds up being a frustrating film. It does feel like there is the kernel of a good idea here, but it never fully develops. Every time the movie threatens to get interesting, the filmmakers make a wrongheaded decision that takes the viewer right back out of it. The music is good, but there is little else positive to say about this experience. None of the characters come close to being likeable, the pace is glacial, the weirdness seems to exist solely for its own sake, and in the end it feels like the only thing the movie is trying to tell us is that The Weeknd is a tortured genius. Or maybe just, “bitches be crazy.” Either way, after spending two hours watching our Starboy be a party monster surrounded by blinding lights and getting lost in the fire, the only response will be the echoes of silence. He earned it. ★