Beau Is Afraid proved that Ari Aster isn’t afraid to tear himself open, laying out his darkest and most intimate fears for public consumption. But in Eddington, he turns the lens on us and our greatest collective trauma: the COVID-19 pandemic. The film’s goal is to jam as many aspects of that era with as much detail as possible into a 148-minute runtime. Aster’s devilishly dark sense of humor, from the matter-of-fact barbs between Sheriff and Mayor to Austin Butler’s appearance as a cult leader, may infuse the ultramodern Western. But this is Aster we’re talking about, so somehow the humor doesn’t quite cut the tension so much as highlight it. You have to laugh, but the sick pit in your stomach doesn’t go away. Jokes or not, it makes for a grueling viewing experience.

Eddington is not just a look at one of the single most harrowing moments in American (and global) history. It’s an extremely cynical one at that. The huge ensemble cast populating the town is a writhing mass of misguided best intentions riddled with dire consequences. It is a movie that doesn’t believe the presence of evil is necessary for evil to be done.

It’s Nashville, only looking at the whole of America through politics and social media instead of politics and music. That said, at least Nashville offered some escape through song. Eddington’s version of “I’m Easy” is a right-wing, conspiracy-theory TikTok with 10,000 likes. If that sounds bleak, it’s because it is. This is supposed to be Ari Aster’s first non-horror film. On the other hand, what else can you call a movie that asks us to relive one of the worst years of our lives in vivid and unrelenting detail?

Set in late May of 2020, Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) is sick of masking, lockdowns, and Mayor Garcia’s (Pedro Pascal) rules. On impulse, he decides to run against the mayor in the upcoming election. What he fails to realize is the world, including their small town in New Mexico, is a powder keg ready to blow. Soon, the realities of 2020 start hitting fast and hard. From the rapid spread of the disease to the Black Lives Matter movement to the sharp rise in right-wing conspiracy theories.

With every move the sheriff makes, we see how far and wide the messy, tangled web of interpersonal connections reaches. This structure gives the ensemble players plenty of rich characterization to work with. Matt Gomez Hidaka, playing Garcia’s son, knows how to play up teenage rebellion, vulnerability, and jackassery in equal measure. Michael Ward, Cross’s young Black deputy, pivots seamlessly from office comedy hijinks to bearing the weight of his tokenism. However, it’s cult leader Vernon who’s sure to be the standout. It’s a role Austin Butler seems almost born to play. If Elvis taught us anything, it’s to let that beautiful boy be weird as hell.

It’s an impressive feat to flesh out an entire town. It’s just not a town that anyone in 2025 wants to be in. That’s what makes assessing Eddington on any level so difficult. As a society, our relationship to the pandemic is a strange one. At times, it feels like yesterday. At others, as if the entire year was erased or perhaps never happened at all. We might still be way too close to it to see or fully understand its impact. Nevermind wanting to relive it.

Maybe in 2035, we can have a more productive conversation about what Aster’s sprawling work got right or wrong. But in 2025, recommending it feels impossible, regardless of the quality of the work. So much of 2025 already feels reminiscent of 2020, from the president to the societal upheaval and collective horror and exhaustion. To head to the theater to spend two and a half hours looking at a reflection we couldn’t avoid if we tried? It’s a little hard not to wonder what the point would be.

Eddington’s cynicism is total. It sees no way out of the mess we’ve made, no way to mend the seismic rifts in our culture or our homes. It anticipates the result of our selfishness as terrible, almost unstoppable violence. If Aster has any hope for us, and I believe that he actually does, he doesn’t show it here. As the credits roll, it’s as if the only plausible reaction is to shrug and say, “Yeah… I know…”. That makes it hard to feel like the journey is one worth taking.

Filmmakers have long used their art to hold a mirror up to us. I’m just not sure audiences will be willing to look into this one.

Eddington puts on a mask and takes a seat, six feet away, in theatres starting July 18.

Eddington Trailer: