Over the summer, I enjoyed a privilege that many other avid Letterboxd users can only dream of: One of my friends worked at AMC, allowing me to experience some of the summer’s most anticipated films on the big screen, all free of charge. The films my friends and I watched varied significantly from week to week, with titles ranging from Zach Cregger’s horror blockbuster Weapons to Eva Victor’s quiet masterpiece Sorry Baby. Though I have much to say about both of those films (as well as others), Ari Aster’s modern Western Eddington easily stuck with me the most because of how shockingly well it dissects the state of modern American culture and politics. Before continuing, I should preface this article with a huge spoiler warning; there is simply no way I can discuss Eddington’s significance as a piece of satire without exposing some of the film’s key plot points.
Eddington takes place in a small New Mexico town during the COVID-19 pandemic. The main plot centers on a conflict between town mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) and sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix). Cross, irritated by Garcia’s enforcement of a lockdown and mask mandates, launches a campaign in the hopes of unseating his rival. Tensions between Garcia and Cross (as well as other townspeople) are escalated as police brutality, COVID-19 misinformation and conspiracy theories about pedophilia run rampant throughout the town.
The film’s temporal setting works brilliantly for exploring the themes of political divide, corruption, violence and misinformation. The COVID-19 era is still fresh enough in viewers’ minds that the references made throughout the film make sense. Many of the film’s scenes feature painfully cringe-worthy references to aspects of pandemic culture. For example, some of the younger characters in the film engage in performative activism in the wake of the murder of George Floyd. At one point, Brian, a white high-schooler, quickly reads political activist Angela Davis’ Wikipedia page so that he can impress a girl he likes. Soon after, he talks with his parents about systemic racism and police abolition despite clearly having done little research about said topics. Aster makes sure to differentiate criticism of performative activism from true political philosophy, however. Hypocrisy and action without substance are the objects of Aster’s criticism, rather than left-wing ideology itself. By the end of the film, Brian becomes a celebrated figure on the right after he guns down a terrorist about to kill Cross. He capitalizes on this fame and abandons the left-wing ideology he’d previously shallowly adopted, turning himself into another grifting conservative activist. This decision brilliantly satirizes the way many individuals today flock to whatever ideas benefit them the most socially, effectively turning political identity into a form of social currency.
While some critics have argued that Eddington criticized the left more than the right, Aster responded in an interview by saying, “In the film, one side is kind of annoying and frustrating and hypocritical, and the other side is killing people and destroying lives.” The film’s depictions of conservative conspiracy theorists makes this extremely clear. Cross’s wife Louise (Emma Stone) is a survivor of sexual abuse. However, she is lured into a cult by Vernon Jefferson Peak, a charismatic man who makes absurd claims about pedophile rings led by rich individuals. While, of course, rich and powerful individuals like Jeffrey Epstein got away with horrific acts of abuse for many years, the cult’s baseless claims (which are very similar to QAnon’s) ultimately detract from actual victims of abuse and often exploit vulnerable people looking for answers.
Additionally, the film’s final act satirizes the positive portrayals of extreme violence by law enforcement officers in American media. After being abandoned by his wife and embarrassed by Garcia, Cross goes on a murderous rampage, killing a homeless man and then fatally shooting Garcia and his son with a sniper rifle. Though a huge tonal shift, these murders do not come as much of a surprise given how accustomed we are to politically-charged violence. In the aftermath of the shooting, Cross attempts to pin the blame on a black police officer who works for him, while police officers from the nearby Pueblo reservation begin to suspect Cross. Before they can arrest Cross, however, an ambiguous group of terrorists flown into Eddington on a private jet begin to wreak havoc across the town. Cross desperately fights for his life, damaging Native American artifacts and inadvertently shooting a Pueblo officer in the process. These inclusions work to criticize the harm done to Native communities throughout American history as well as the less-than-accurate or kind portrayals of Native individuals in the western genre. Rather than depict Cross as a brave, lone officer successfully fending off villains with bravery and wit, he is depicted as a pathetic and woefully unprepared man who inflicts damage on civilians and public property.
The film’s ending sees Cross, paralyzed and completely powerless from injuries sustained in the firefight, nonetheless elected mayor. Meanwhile, an ominous data center named SolidGoldMagikarp (pictured many times throughout the film and previously supported by Garcia) successfully opens with the “support” of Cross. The ending takes aim at the reality that both sides of the political aisle often support malicious businesses because of the money associated, leaving the public as victims regardless of who they support. This imagery is extremely reminiscent of criticism by Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders about how the Democratic Party, like the Republican Party, has abandoned the working class in many ways in favor of corporate interests. Aster delivers a powerful message that, although the Democratic Party does less harm than the Republican Party in many respects, much work still needs to be done to ensure that the best interests of the future are represented.
Eddington, though featuring many awkward laughs, presents a deeply sobering depiction of American political culture. For the sake of the country, I hope it does not age well and that its criticisms soon become ghosts of a past unfamiliar to the coming generations.
Matthew Rentezelas is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be reached at mmr255@cornell.edu.
