Hurry Up Tomorrow

Grade: D+

Go figure. One of the few times I chose to – and was able to – go into a movie mostly blind, it turns out that I might have benefited from some prior research. I doubt it would have made a difference anyway. This is a weird vanity project from recording artist The Weeknd, billed on the poster and opening credits as his real name, Abel Tesfaye. Hurry Up Tomorrow is also the title of his most recent album, out this past January, and this movie – such as it is – is meant to be a supplement or companion piece for the fans already familiar with his output. I don’t know if that would have helped me, but taken on its own, Hurry Up Tomorrow (the film) fails in just about every way.

I did see the trailer once or twice, and I thought it looked interesting, and did a great job of not giving too much away. Now I know it’s vague and ambiguous because there’s nothing TO give away. I could tell you everything that happens, and I will have told you nothing. Neat premises and possibilities are set up, and then they do absolutely nothing with any of it. It’s a feature-length music video, with some skillfully done camera work and imagery, but as far as substance or meaning, it’s a sand castle. Touch it even gently and it crumbles.

The movie opens with audio of a voicemail for The Weeknd. A woman says she doesn’t know if he even remembers what he said last night, but either way, they’re done, and she’s leaving. Cut to Jenna Ortega weeping while pouring gasoline around the interior of a messy run-down country house, torching it, and fleeing in her truck. I wondered about the connection, if any, between Ortega and Abel. Is she the girlfriend, and was that her voice we hear at the beginning? I’ll go ahead and tell you it’s not. She is just a huge Weeknd fan, and has a really great seat to a concert on his tour. He is sad, reeling from the recent phone breakup and some vocal issues. She is sad because of whatever happened to cause her to burn down that house. They lock eyes during the show, they understand each other, and she finagles her way to a backstage hallway where they end up meeting, going to an amusement park, and spending the night together at his hotel.

I could reveal everything else that takes place, including the surreal David Lynchian dreamlike sequences, but by the end, it’s all nothing but a frustrating, futile smokescreen of a moot point. It could all have been a dream, and maybe some of it is. The Weeknd has a great voice, and I enjoyed a couple of the songs. I especially enjoyed Jenna Ortega’s committed dancing to them. But otherwise, Hurry Up Tomorrow – which I’ve seen people call Hurry Up and End, or Hurry Up and Act – is the phonetic pronunciation of the producer/co-writer/composer/star’s professional name. It’s the weakened.

Grade: D+