There were several reasons I was looking forward to seeing Eddington. First, it’s the latest film from Ari Aster, a director whose work I always find bold, unpredictable, and layered with meaning. Second, the cast is headlined by Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal, two actors who rarely disappoint and who immediately had me intrigued about how their dynamic would play out on screen. That pairing alone made this a must-see for me.
All I knew going in was that the story takes place in May 2020, right at the onset of the COVID pandemic, when the world was sliding into fear and uncertainty. Aster doesn’t treat the pandemic as just a backdrop—it seeps into the tone of the film, giving every scene a raw edge and an eerie sense of unease. The fictional town of Eddington becomes a mirror of that moment, a place where mistrust, paranoia, and buried secrets bubble to the surface.
At the centre of it all is the fraught relationship between the Sheriff (Phoenix) and the Mayor (Pascal). They are far from friends, and as the film moves forward, Aster carefully reveals fragments of their shared past. What begins as small-town tensions gradually builds into something far larger, pulling in the rest of the townsfolk and uncovering hidden truths that no one is ready to face. Supporting performances from Emma Stone, Austin Butler, and Michael Ward add further richness to the movie, each of them playing characters who are caught between loyalty and survival.
The performances are outstanding across the board, but it’s Phoenix who steals the spotlight. His Sheriff is layered—gruff, tormented, and deeply human. Phoenix has a way of inhabiting roles so completely that it feels like he’s lived in that skin for years, and here he delivers a performance that is both unsettling and mesmerising. Pascal is also strong as the ambitious yet haunted Mayor, balancing charm with an undercurrent of desperation, but this truly feels like Phoenix’s film.
There are moments in Eddington that genuinely took my breath away, both visually and emotionally. Aster crafts sequences that are shocking not just for their intensity but for their unexpected tenderness. Just when you think you know where the story is heading, he swerves, pulling the rug out from under you in a way that only he can.
That being said, Eddington is not a film for everyone. It’s slow in places, deliberately uneasy, and unafraid of making the audience uncomfortable. But for those who appreciate Aster’s particular style of storytelling—his ability to mix dread, humanity, and a dark sense of humour—it’s worth seeking out. If nothing else, it’s a film that stays with you long after the credits roll.