EDDINGTON Review

Few things get me more excited walking into a theater than a film with a split right down the middle. You know the kind—hovering in that Rotten Tomatoes purgatory between 55 and 65%, where the haters really hate it, and the lovers are ready to die on a hill defending it. That’s the sweet spot. That’s where conversations happen. That’s where Ari Aster tends to live.

With Eddington, Aster delivers what may be his most polarizing film yet—a political western comedy-thriller (yes, you read that right) set during the volatile early days of the COVID-19 lockdown in the fictional titular New Mexico town. It’s part satire, part social horror, part descent into madness. In other words, it’s an Ari Aster movie.

The Premise: A Pandemic Powder Keg

The film is set in May 2020, when confusion, misinformation, and cabin fever were running wild. In Eddington, Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) is a no-nonsense lawman representing the more conservative resistance to the lockdown mandates. Across the town square sits Mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), a progressive voice enforcing mask mandates, social distancing, and booster talk. These two men ignite a standoff that splits the town—and metaphorically, the country—right in half.

It’s not exactly subtle, but it’s not trying to be. This is a movie built on bold strokes. Aster taps directly into the tension that defined that time—neighbors turning on neighbors, politics weaponized at the dinner table, and the exhausting sense that normalcy was permanently out of reach.

What’s most interesting is that Aster reportedly wrote early drafts of this script before the pandemic, then rewrote it during lockdown after diving deep into the internet comment sections, conspiracy threads, and echo chambers we all watched metastasize in real time. Eddington becomes less about COVID itself and more about the ideological fault lines it exposed—and how we’ve failed to patch them up since.

Phoenix on Fire

This is very much Joaquin’s film. As Sheriff Cross, he gives one of the most complicated performances of his career—a man who is all at once despicable and oddly sympathetic. He’s narcissistic and manipulative, but also confused and almost childlike in his stubbornness. One moment you're nodding along with him, the next you want to throttle him. That emotional whiplash? That’s the point.

It’s Phoenix’s second collaboration with Aster following Beau Is Afraid, and while that film didn’t quite land for me overall, his work in it was impressive. Here, he’s even better. He’s on screen for nearly the entire 2.5-hour runtime, and his performance anchors the film—even as everything around him goes off the rails.

Unfortunately, the rest of the stacked cast doesn’t get nearly as much to do. Pedro Pascal is solid but underused as Mayor Garcia. Emma Stone, despite top billing and an Oscar under her belt, disappears after the first act. Austin Butler pops in briefly as a cult-like preacher recruiting the town’s fringe. It’s a loaded ensemble, but it’s clear Aster only has eyes for Phoenix here.

The Craft: Aster Unleashed

Visually, Eddington is one of the most striking films of the year. Aster is at the top of his technical game. There’s one shot in particular—a dizzying, 360-degree sequence where Phoenix stands frozen in the middle of town while chaos unfolds around him—that had me fully transfixed. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski (a frequent Aster collaborator) once again delivers haunting, painterly frames, even when the subject matter feels ugly and raw.

The production design is equally strong, creating a believable town square soaked in pandemic-era tension. And the score? Moody, eerie, pulsing—it’s the kind of music that creeps into your bones without ever needing to crescendo. From a pure filmmaking standpoint, Eddington is a masterclass. I’m giving it a 10/10 on craft. That part of the film is undeniable.

The Crux: Emotional Weight and Narrative Flow

Where the film stumbles is in its storytelling rhythm. At 2 hours and 30 minutes, Eddington feels bloated. There are stretches—particularly in the middle—where the pace lags, and the thematic repetition becomes a bit much. Aster wants to hammer the same message over and over: we are divided, we are broken, we’re not okay. He’s not wrong. But sometimes it feels like he’s yelling it instead of showing it.

The emotional core, too, is a bit slippery. Unlike Hereditary or Midsommar, where grief and trauma were deeply personal and visceral, Eddington operates at more of a sociopolitical distance. That’s by design, but it limits some of the connective tissue between viewer and narrative. It’s more of a think piece than a gut punch.

That said, the final act is vintage Aster—totally unhinged, unpredictable, and gloriously over the top. As has become tradition, he takes the last 30 minutes and lights a metaphorical stick of dynamite. Some will love it. Some will hate it. I was somewhere in the middle—impressed by the chaos, but less moved by the aftermath.

On the emotional and narrative level—the “crux,” as I’ve decided to start calling it—I’m giving Eddington a 6/10.

Final Verdict: Divided By Design

Eddington is a film made to provoke, not to comfort. It’s polarizing by intention. And in that way, it’s kind of perfect. Aster doesn’t want unity here. He wants reflection. He wants to hold up a mirror and force us to look at ourselves—not from a distance, but in the ugly, up-close way only a filmmaker like him can manage. The fact that Eddington is dividing audiences right down the middle? That’s not a flaw. That’s the thesis. Whether you're on the left, right, or somewhere in between, there’s something in this film that’s bound to rattle you. And maybe that’s exactly what we need.

🍿 SCORE = 78 / 100

*Watch my YouTube Review HERE.