Directed By Trey Edward Shults

Starring – Abel Tesfaye, Jenna Ortega, Barry Keoghan

The Plot – An insomniac musician (Tesfaye) encounters a mysterious stranger (Ortega), leading to a journey that challenges everything he knows about himself.

Rated R for adult language throughout, drug use, some bloody violence and brief nudity

Hurry Up Tomorrow (2025) Official Trailer – Abel Tesfaye, Jenna Ortega, Barry Keoghan

POSITIVES

Being that this is a Trey Edward Shults film, we’ll get the obvious out of the way first, and commend another sensorially entrancing direction that once more pushes the envelope for artistic filmmaking. Similar to what Shults did in his previous film “Waves”, he puts on a tour de force with regards to unorthodox camera motions and placements that helps to make this such an immersive experience into the mind of a tortured artist, this time on beautifully hypnotic Kodak print, and when this is combined with spell-binding cinematography in everything from the stern strobing of lighting within some fantastically dark and depraved sequences, to the nightmarish inescapability of some surreal imagery, effortlessly conveys the confinement of a tour, where there is not only zero time alone to bask in the overwhelming feelings of Abel’s undiagnosed depression, but also the enough time to slow everything down before the next date arrives, and if there’s one thing that Shults executes to perfection, it’s that underlining emphasis that continuously pushes the psychological factor to this ever-evolving engagement, bringing with it an exploration that feels like the blending of Stephen King’s “Misery” with any David Lynch movie from the last twenty years, leading to a third act that forces Abel to confront the realities within his own catalogue. On top of this, the score co-penned here from Tesfaye and composer Daniel Lopatin unearth some scintillatingly riveting compositions that help drive tension and uncertainty to the depicted world, even when the storytelling wasn’t, and the organ-heavy entrancement of Lopatin’s instrumentals breathe seamlessly alongside the depths and familiarity of the few Weeknd songs distributed casually throughout the film’s duration, making this a movie that responsibly values music as the key that unlocks the impenetrable walls of an artist exploiting it for therapeutic release. Despite so many of them reveling in the darkness that plagues Abel’s life, the tones surprisingly evade repetition in ways that inspire complexity between the entirety of them, and while this movie should responsibly be categorized as a psychological thriller of sorts, Lopatin’s tones feel plucked directly from horror, conveying an underlining dread to this fairytale meeting between these characters that articulates the audience should merely take the unreliability of the visuals and experiences at face value. The performances from the trio of Tesfaye, Ortega and Keoghan also dividedly steal the spotlight, even when the characterization between them left more to be desired, in terms of accessibility. Ever since HBO’s “The Idol”, Tesfaye has shown tremendous range in the emotionality of his portrayals, and while the challenge of being asked to play yourself compromises the integrity of losing yourself in a character, Tesfaye seamlessly balances the fiery intensity of his stage persona with the tenderness and frailty of a lovesick victim off of it, with watery registries seemingly on-cue to convey the internal anguish of him still reeling from losing the love of his life. Ortega also gives meaningfully layered work here, both with an underlining edginess that conveys so much complexity in a single, burning look, but also her commitment to psychological instability that unlocks the kind of dangerousness that has the audience hanging onto her every word, with those bold windows to the soul showcasing so much anger and immaturity that continuously hang overhead to a scene’s integrity like a forthcoming storm about to blow. As for Keoghan, he’s given very little screen time compared to his two counterparts, however he revels in the sliminess and insensitivity of a leech who is essentially sucking every dollar out of Tesfaye, with impulsive physicality in his motions that feels like he defines gravity, whenever his character subtly but noticeably weaves back into frame during Tesfaye’s most traumatic moments.

NEGATIVES

There’s only one easy way to summarize this screenplay, and it’s that “Hurry Up Tomorrow” feels like fanfiction from the perspective of a teenage girl, that lacks any kind of subtlety or nuance to the actions of the characters, or even the metaphorical meanings of how everything eventually plays out, making it feel unavoidably confrontational to mainstream audiences. The biggest problem with the script is easily the lack of characterization, which not only gives us so little to these compelling arcs that are introduced quite apparently with some kind of forth-coming intention, but also the moral quandary of who I am supposed to be rooting for in a battle between two mentally unstable and shallow characters. If Tesfaye and Ortega’s performances weren’t so impactful, it would be for nothing, as the former is a selfish, self-wallowing diva of sorts who constantly elicits the superstar mentality of putting his own needs above others, while the latter is a ticking timebomb that often devastates everyone and everything in her wake, a fact that is articulated as quickly as the movie’s opening scene. The scenes and elaborate sequences themselves attempt the David Lynch treatment, as previously mentioned, but they lack the kind of cryptic nature to their depiction that simultaneously inspires speculation, and considering it takes roughly halfway into the movie before the conflict is firmly established, the first half feels slogs along like a Volkswagen with three flat tires, serving as an endurance and patience test for those seeking results quickly in a mere 100-minute offering. When the film finally materializes as a thriller, it does feel a bit too late to muster any meaningful momentum, but even if it didn’t, far too rushed towards compressing so many developments between Tesfaye and Ortega’s cat and mouse game to revel in the constraints of the conflict, leading to an abruptly unsatisfying and open-ended finale, that, even in effectively attaining the intended message of the artistry, never came close towards feeling entertaining or even remotely endearing. Beyond this, so many of the intendedly uncomfortable sequences between Tesfaye and Ortega lack any kind of palpable suspense or tension to drive the anxieties of an invested audience, as a result of some tone-deaf responses and actions of the actors, which completely plague moments pertaining to captivity and abuse to feeling unavoidably hilarious. This would be a problem for any movie executed this way that I see, as I typically laugh when a situation is written so inconsiderably, however everyone else laughing quite loudly in my auditorium confirmed everything that I felt about these moments, and considering Shults is the same man who burst onto the scene by commanding 2017’s horror thriller, “It Comes at Night”, the lack of awareness here towards atmosphere is appalling, especially with dangerous characters who should effortlessly attain terror from their audience. Finally, while nearly all of the film’s technical components beneficially play to the movie’s presentation, aspect ratios continue to be an artistic issue for Shults, who here deviates spontaneously between a 4:3 and a 2.39:1, in order to maximize the differences between the open-ended expressive freedom of the stage, with the claustrophobic confinement of Tesfaye’s life in pieces. Despite the intension, the transitions between them feel a bit sloppily abrasive and distracting to the investment of the film, with some visually elaborate moments demanding a bigger outlining emphasis in depiction, but unfortunately being deduced to this boxed-in framing that condensed clarity. For my money, the 2.39:1 should’ve been constant throughout, as it frames Panavision wonderfully towards articulating the difficulties of the camera’s movements, which should be applauded for such. Failing to do so only overcomplicates the execution of the movie’s presentation, especially with so many other bountifully beautiful artistic merits that sizzle the spectacle of The Weeknd’s stage shows on the biggest screen imaginable.

OVERALL
“Hurry Up Tomorrow” is blessed with an effervescence of spellbinding production value and artistic merit so breathtakingly immersive that it practically succeeds in spectacle, despite the issues of the script constantly working against it. Unfortunately, meandered pacing during the opening half, as well as limited mounting tension, leaves this psychological stinger of a biopic feeling a bit shallow and self-indulgent when it matters most, leaving there no tomorrow for a movie this constantly at odds with itself, feeling every bit self-destructive as the superstar it follows.

My Grade: 5.6 or D+