Good Fortune Review: Keanu Reeves Swaps John Wick’s Guns for Heart in Aziz Ansari’s Sharp Comedy

The American Dream Has Expired, Please Try Again

We meet Arj (played by Aziz Ansari), an Indian immigrant in America who isn’t exactly living the dream so much as surviving its hangover. His line- “The American Dream is dead” is not just dialogue, it’s a headline for a generation.

In the film’s first twenty minutes, you get a buffet of bleak truths: people overworked, underpaid, always replaceable, and forever one click away from unemployment. Arj’s life feels like a treadmill running just a bit too fast. There’s exhaustion, sarcasm, and a pinch of existential dread, all served with the kind of observational humor Ansari has built a career on.

Enter Gabriel, the Angel on a Different Assignment

Watching from above, or more accurately, around and everywhere below is Gabriel (Keanu Reeves), an angel assigned to the department of “texting and driving.” Yes, that’s his celestial gig. His job is to save people distracted by their phones, which is both hilarious and weirdly believable in Ansari’s world.

Gabriel, though, wants to do more. He craves meaning, purpose, and perhaps a promotion in angel hierarchy. When he notices Arj’s soul-crushing routine, he takes matters into his own heavenly hands. Breaking a few celestial rules, Gabriel swaps Arj’s life with that of Jeff (Seth Rogen), a wealthy, charming man living in luxury. The idea is simple: help Arj realize that money and privilege aren’t everything. Of course, things don’t go as planned.

When Worlds Swap and Lessons Misfire

Once the lives are swapped, the film takes off like a sitcom on caffeine. Arj’s sudden dive into Jeff’s golden life is as chaotic as it is hilarious. The gags land hard, awkward encounters, misplaced confidence, rich-person dilemmas he can’t decode.

What’s refreshing is that Ansari doesn’t turn Good Fortune into a “poor guy becomes rich, learns humility” template. Instead, he plays around with perspective. Arj’s idea of wealth gets dismantled, but so does Jeff’s notion of happiness. The humor hides quiet sadness. Being rich isn’t painted as evil, nor is being broke glorified. The film refuses to take sides, and that’s its sharpest trick.

Ansari’s Balancing Act Between Humor and Humanity

Ansari, both as a writer and director, walks a tightrope between cynicism and optimism. Good Fortune could’ve easily turned into a moral lecture, but it never does. The film’s tone remains conversational and grounded, as if it’s aware that real people don’t talk in inspirational quotes.

He uses humor not to escape reality but to confront it. The dialogue is witty yet full of warmth. Gabriel’s innocence, played with effortless sincerity by Reeves, gives the film its emotional pulse. He’s not dumbed down or overly angelic. He’s compassionate without being corny. When one character tells him, “It is what it is,” the line lands like quiet wisdom rather than resignation.

That’s the crux of Good Fortune. Life doesn’t transform magically. Hitting rock bottom doesn’t mean an instant rise. But your existence, however unglamorous, still matters. Ansari wants you to see that without pulling out a motivational quote card.

Master of (Realistic) None

Yes, Master of None fans, the reference is earned. Ansari continues to mine the same vein of observational realism that made his Netflix series beloved. The humor is dry, introspective, and refreshingly awkward at times.

The film smartly touches on multiple modern anxieties- economic inequality, immigrant fatigue, the loneliness of success, the threat of automation, and the quiet disillusionment of middle-class existence. Yet none of it feels heavy-handed. It’s presented with an easy, conversational tone that sneaks up on you with meaning later.

Ansari thrives in creating these “slice of truth” moments. They feel improvised yet calculated, funny yet piercing. When Arj cracks a joke in the middle of an emotional breakdown, you laugh, but you also wince a little. That duality defines Ansari’s storytelling.

The Cast That Keeps the Fortune Rolling

Aziz Ansari plays Arj with just the right mix of vulnerability and sarcasm. It’s like watching Dev from Master of None age into a slightly more jaded version of himself, with a sprinkle of Tom Haverford’s misplaced confidence. The underdog energy he brings makes Arj instantly relatable, even when he’s making questionable choices.

Seth Rogen, meanwhile, does what Seth Rogen does best, plays a likable mess of contradictions. Jeff is not a villain, and that’s what makes him interesting. He’s rich, privileged, and yet weirdly grounded. You start to feel for him, which is unexpected but satisfying.

Keanu Reeves as Gabriel is a joy to watch. He’s serene, awkward, and profoundly sincere in a way that makes you forget he’s John Wick. His performance is the film’s beating heart. Sandra Oh pops in as Martha with a sharp, memorable cameo, while Keke Palmer makes her limited screen time count with a quietly powerful arc that complements Arj’s journey.

A Third Act That Trips But Doesn’t Fall

The film’s one stumble is its third act. After a strong setup and a breezy middle, the final stretch feels a bit too mechanical. Twists start happening for the sake of reaching a tidy conclusion. A few gags lose their rhythm, and the pacing wobbles.

But here’s the thing- it recovers fast. The short runtime (under 100 minutes) saves it from overstaying its welcome. The sincerity of its message brings it back on track before the credits roll. You forgive the unevenness because the film has earned your goodwill by then.

A Feel-Good Film That Refuses to Fake It

The best thing about Good Fortune is how effortlessly watchable it is. It never pretends to have all the answers, and that’s exactly why it works. Ansari isn’t interested in fairy-tale redemption or dramatic reinvention. He’s just trying to remind us that life is messy, tiring, occasionally beautiful, and almost always funny in unexpected ways.

There’s no fake enlightenment here, no “follow your dreams” montage. Instead, there’s a quiet acceptance of life’s absurdities. A roadside taco and a shared laugh with someone you love is still a better deal than swimming alone in a mansion pool.

Ansari’s film leaves you hopeful, not in a glossy self-help way but in the way real people hope—messily, cautiously, with the tiniest bit of humor to keep going. It’s that rare film that can make you laugh about your own despair and still walk out feeling lighter.