Good Fortune – Film Review

Aziz Ansari’s Good Fortune marks one of the more refreshing surprises of the year — a supernatural comedy that blends cosmic whimsy with grounded emotion, delivering both laughter and meaning in equal measure. Written and directed by Ansari in his feature debut, and starring Keanu Reeves, Seth Rogen, Keke Palmer, Sandra Oh, and Ansari himself, the film turns a high-concept premise about body-swapping and divine intervention into a surprisingly tender reflection on the meaning of happiness and self-worth.

Good Fortune wears its heart on its sleeve while balancing absurd humor and emotional sincerity. The result is a film that feels personal yet universal, surreal yet humane — and though it occasionally stumbles under its own ambition, it’s ultimately a joyous and meaningful watch that confirms Ansari’s potential as a filmmaker.

The film centers on Gabriel (Keanu Reeves), a low-ranking guardian angel who’s tired of saving people from texting-and-driving accidents and longs to rescue those with “lost souls.” When he sets his eyes on Arj (Aziz Ansari), a struggling man scraping by with part-time jobs and a stalled love life, Gabriel intervenes in a way that spirals wildly out of control. What begins as a simple attempt to teach Arj a moral lesson — that money doesn’t solve all problems — becomes a messy, funny, and heartfelt odyssey involving body-swapping with a wealthy tech investor named Jeff (Seth Rogen), angelic bureaucracy led by Martha (Sandra Oh), and an unexpected love story with Elena (Keke Palmer).

Without giving away specifics, the narrative uses its supernatural elements as a mirror for human flaws — envy, ego, fear, and longing. Ansari’s script cleverly walks a line between moral fable and social satire. It pokes fun at hustle culture, class disparity, and even modern spirituality, but it never loses sight of the characters’ humanity. Arj’s transformation, literal and metaphorical, becomes the emotional axis of the film — a reminder that perspective, not possession, defines contentment.

Ansari’s comedic sensibility, familiar from his work on Master of None, remains intact here: deadpan wit mixed with earnest introspection. Yet Good Fortune is larger in scope, visually and thematically, than anything he’s done before. There’s a surreal elasticity to the world — angels, glowing symbols, dreamlike visions — but it’s always anchored by human behavior. The comedy never feels cartoonish; it emerges naturally from people trying to make sense of situations that defy logic.

One of the film’s greatest assets is its inspired casting. Keanu Reeves delivers one of his most charming performances in years as Gabriel, an angel whose stoic calmness masks a growing existential frustration. Reeves brings warmth and understated comedy to a character who might’ve easily become a caricature. His deadpan delivery turns heavenly bureaucracy into something hilariously mundane, and his eventual transformation gives the film a surprising emotional pulse.

Ansari, as Arj, gives perhaps his most vulnerable on-screen turn. He plays Arj not as a neurotic overthinker, but as a quietly desperate man — someone who’s lost his way but still clings to hope. His comedic timing remains razor-sharp, but it’s his subtle expressions of confusion, guilt, and self-discovery that give the story emotional depth. Ansari doesn’t try to make Arj a saint or a fool; he’s just human — messy, funny, and relatable.

Seth Rogen is pitch-perfect as Jeff, the blustery yet insecure tech mogul who serves as Arj’s foil. Rogen plays with his public image as both bro-ish and strangely lovable, finding empathy in a man who’s become detached from the human consequences of his wealth. Watching Rogen and Ansari essentially inhabit each other’s lives — emotionally and comedically — becomes a fascinating study in contrasts.

Keke Palmer, meanwhile, brings natural warmth and spark as Elena, the grounded voice of reason amidst the chaos. She and Ansari share a believable chemistry that gives the film’s romantic subplot genuine weight. Sandra Oh rounds out the ensemble with a scene-stealing turn as Martha, the angelic overseer whose combination of divine authority and bureaucratic exhaustion perfectly fits the film’s offbeat tone.

As a first-time director, Ansari shows a clear visual identity — one that merges modern absurdity with old-fashioned optimism. The cinematography by Adam Newport-Berra leans on bright, heavenly light contrasted with the muted palette of everyday life, visually emphasizing the divide between the ethereal and the mundane. The result is a film that feels visually whimsical without resorting to cheap fantasy tropes.

Ansari’s direction demonstrates a steady hand for tonal balance. The film shifts from high-concept comedy to quiet introspection without jarring the audience. While there are a few pacing dips in the second act — particularly during the extended body-swap sequences — the energy rarely lags for long. The editing, paired with a gentle yet playful score by Carter Burwell, keeps the narrative rhythm buoyant and emotionally cohesive.

What stands out most, though, is Ansari’s sense of empathy. Even as Good Fortune plays with cosmic consequences, the humor never feels cruel or detached. Every character — from the angel to the billionaire to the struggling worker — is portrayed with some measure of understanding. The film’s worldview is forgiving and hopeful, yet not naïve. It suggests that people can grow, fail, and still find redemption in connection and perspective.

The comedic tone of Good Fortune isn’t loud or slapstick — it’s observant, rooted in awkward situations and human contradictions. A recurring motif about bureaucracy in Heaven (a place where angels have to fill out paperwork to approve miracles) becomes both a running gag and a metaphor for how even divinity can’t escape red tape. There’s also a biting yet affectionate critique of the modern obsession with wealth and productivity — the idea that if one just “works harder,” happiness will follow.

Ansari uses humor as a vehicle for introspection, not escape. The laughs feel earned because they stem from discomfort, irony, and small realizations rather than punchlines. At times, the dialogue has the rhythm of a philosophical debate disguised as banter. Reeves’ angelic logic clashes with Rogen’s materialism, and Ansari’s human confusion bridges the gap between the two worlds. It’s smart comedy that never talks down to the audience.

If there’s a flaw in Good Fortune, it’s that its ambition slightly outweighs its structure. The third act, which introduces more existential elements, occasionally meanders. Some of the narrative resolutions feel too tidy, especially given how emotionally rich the setup is. A few of the supporting characters — particularly Elena’s activist friends and some of the angelic council members — feel underdeveloped.

Yet even when it stumbles, the film remains sincere and entertaining. Ansari’s script doesn’t chase cynicism or irony for their own sake; it genuinely wants to inspire reflection. That earnestness might not appeal to everyone, but it gives Good Fortune its distinct identity — a film that’s funny, soulful, and occasionally profound in ways few comedies dare to be.

Good Fortune succeeds as both an uplifting fantasy and a grounded human story. It’s a movie that finds humor in failure, beauty in imperfection, and joy in rediscovery. Aziz Ansari’s debut as a feature filmmaker signals a creative leap — one that balances intellect, warmth, and wit with surprising directorial maturity.

Anchored by Keanu Reeves’ serene charm, Seth Rogen’s charismatic humor, and Ansari’s emotional vulnerability, this supernatural comedy is a meditation on what it means to be fulfilled — not by miracles, but by perspective.

A funny, heartfelt, and spiritually clever comedy that proves sometimes, losing your wings is the best way to find your humanity.