“Eddington,” directed by Ari Aster and available for streaming on HBO Max, takes an unflinching look at the chaos and contradictions of early-pandemic America through dark satire, with Joaquin Phoenix leading a cast caught in a whirlwind of social and political unrest in Eddington, New Mexico. The film’s sharp tone, combined with turbulent themes, brings the Ari Aster Eddington HBO Max release into question: does it offer catharsis, or merely dwell in collective trauma?
Plot Unfolds in Eddington, New Mexico
The story launches with the arrival of a homeless man, played by Clifton Collins Jr., who stirs unrest in the seemingly peaceful town of Eddington during May 2020, pushing the tension into overdrive just as the pandemic upends daily life. Sheriff Joe Cross, portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix, is unconvinced about wearing masks, even as the town mayor, Ted Garcia—played by Pedro Pascal—insists on mandates and champions controversial development that puts profits above Indigenous lands. The clash between the conservative sheriff and liberal mayor quickly escalates: Joe launches an impulsive campaign against Ted with a reactionary slogan designed to inflame rather than unite.
The pandemic setting shapes every facet of life in Eddington. Joe’s home is a microcosm of lockdown-induced detachment: his wife Louise, played by Emma Stone, spends her days crafting unsettling dolls for sale online, while her mother Dawn, performed by Dierdre O’Connell, prints conspiracy theories from the internet. The fractured family dynamic is mirrored in the broader community, with citizens turning to social media as both lifeline and battleground, reinforcing polarization and confusion.
Community Strain and Spiraling Subplots
The film soon balloons with subplots, including Louise and Dawn’s association with a bizarre cult led by Vernon Jefferson Peak—a charismatic manipulator brought to life by Austin Butler. Meanwhile, race, activism, and generational anxiety erupt after the murder of George Floyd; young protesters in Eddington, motivated by social media rhetoric, jostle for justice but often collide with established order. The lives of secondary characters like deputies Guy (Luke Grimes) and Mike (Micheal Ward), protester Brian (Cameron Mann), and social justice enthusiast Sarah (Amelie Hoeferle) intersect as local tensions reflect nationwide volatility.
With each development, the film purposefully tangles its plotlines—gun control, vaccine debates, cultish groups, and divisive politics all commingle, making Eddington a powder keg symbolizing a nation on the brink. The script does not hesitate to highlight the ironies and hypocrisies of every side, realizing its setting as a condensed portrait of American dysfunction. The film asks viewers to endure these excesses without expecting neat resolution or uplifting unity.
Stylistic Choices and Performances
Ari Aster’s direction alternates between visual wit and emotional bluntness, making each scene both surreal and painfully direct. Joaquin Phoenix anchors the film with his signature blend of bewilderment and commitment, embodying a sheriff outmatched by events both personal and political. Yet, the sprawling narrative doesn’t always allow for deep character development, stretching its actors over an array of themes rather than diving deeply into individual arcs. The ensemble cast—Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone, Dierdre O’Connell—brings weight, but at times feels adrift amid narrative chaos.
At one sharp moment, Joe delivers a charged campaign speech, urging his deputy/videographer with the line:
Don’t make me think. Post it.
—Joaquin Phoenix, as Sheriff Joe Cross
Such lines serve as both character exposition and critique of our current media landscape, where reflex often trumps reflection, and where feelings are often mistaken for insight.
Aster’s Thematic Ambitions: Too Many Targets and Little Relief
Eddington teems with commentary on virtually every headline issue from the year 2020—all tangled together: masks, big tech, Indigenous land rights, cult mentality, social justice, Internet addiction, police brutality, and cultural hypocrisy. Instead of picking a single thread to follow, Aster bundles them into a single, unwieldy film. The resulting experience feels relentless and, at times, intentionally exhausting, with little hope for meaningful change or reconciliation. There are no comforting conclusions and no messages about unity; instead, the film forces viewers to sit with discomfort, mirroring the collective hangover from the events of 2020.
The film’s tonal decisions waver between bleak humor—moments of absurdity that could be effective satire—and jarring sincerity, as when Sheriff Joe insists COVID-19 isn’t a local issue, underlining how the virus of disinformation bridges distances more effectively than real connection. This fluctuating approach often holds characters and viewers at arm’s length, challenging empathy instead of nurturing it.
Comparison to Previous Works and Narrative Execution
While Ari Aster’s earlier films like “Hereditary,” “Midsommar,” and “Beau is Afraid” leaned toward either visceral horror or introspective discomfort, “Eddington” projects outward, embracing social spectacle and fragmented realities. The thematic overload shows: the film dilutes its impact by chasing too many issues, rendering some subplots underdeveloped and others overwrought. The quirks and flourishes of Aster’s style do surface—the ominous montage of social media activity, the absurd yet unsettling visual tableau, the moments when dialogue sums up cultural malaise in a few biting strokes—but they struggle beneath the film’s heavy, overextended scope.
Some performances, notably Phoenix’s turn as Sheriff Joe, showcase his capacity to embody individuals overwhelmed by circumstance, just as he did in films like “Inherent Vice” and “Beau is Afraid.” Yet the scattered narrative leaves little space for the cast to explore their roles in depth. Phoenix still manages to draw viewers into the storm of confusion and resentment that defines small-town Eddington, though the film’s lack of a coherent throughline undercuts these efforts.
Divided Reception and Cultural Commentary
Reaction to the Ari Aster Eddington HBO Max premiere has predictably split viewers. The film’s lack of clarity or redemptive arc is deliberate, consistent with Aster’s willingness to plunge into social discomfort without offering resolution. Eddington can be interpreted as both a love letter and a condemnation: a film about endless, unresolved conflict where the only certainty is the next crisis. As an observer notes, Americans are left stranded,
“depicts little hope for change for the better,”
and the film provides no reassurance or optimism, only the continued grind of instability.
The very nature of Eddington’s satire may be its most revealing trait. The director dares to craft a movie that, instead of reconciling fractured audiences, embodies the fracture itself. Its maximalist narrative—racial tensions, conspiracy theories, technological manipulation, generational divides—asks not for agreement or consensus, but for viewers to survive the experience together.
What Lies Ahead for Ari Aster and the Film’s Legacy
Despite—or perhaps because of—its missteps, “Eddington” confirms that Ari Aster remains a filmmaker willing to provoke, frustrate, and challenge audiences. Rather than offering solutions or catharsis, he holds up a mirror that aggravates wounds more than it soothes. For those seeking strong narrative focus or uplifting moments, this film will prove a difficult watch. Fans of Aster’s past work may admire the ambition, but even they may find Eddington’s frantic pace and overt topicality to be a test of patience.
The film’s closing act is a clear refusal to compromise or editorialize: there are no heroes, answers, or teachable moments, only the aftermath of choices made under strain. In this way, Eddington’s legacy may prove divisive—viewed as either a blunt masterpiece of pandemic-era expression or a cautionary example of thematic overindulgence.
For those on the fence, the resounding critical recommendation stands as: SKIP IT.
