Going into Blink Twice - previously and more richly titled Pussy Island - I was curious about star Channing Tatum's heel turn. Here was Hollywood's favorite affable himbo choosing to play a dangerous billionaire tech bro capable of entrapping young women, thus flipping his image as a sweet-natured golden retriever of a man, bolstered and refined by the Magic Mike films that positioned him as keenly interested in female pleasure.
As we eagerly await for her father's scarf walk to walk the red carpet, the reviews are in and people are very much comparing Blink Twice to Get Out and Promising Young Woman. The movie follows a young woman (Naomi Ackie) who gets invited by a billionaire (Tatum) to his private island where everything is not as it seems.
When it came to the actor turned writer-director (turned Tatum's romantic partner in the process) Zoë Kravitz, I had enjoyed her as a red-carpet fixture with sharp cheekbones and a vibe so chill she reads as disaffected. After she put her own spin on a slinky Catwoman in (2022) and played the agoraphobe in Steven Soderbergh's thrilling (2022), I started to be intrigued by her potential as a storyteller.
But when I heard she'd be directing Blink Twice (co-written by Kravitz and E.T. Feigenbaum), an immediate question came to mind: Can a woman like her - who has been ensconced in a wealth and visibility most Black girls will never experience thanks to her ultra-connected lineage - truly capture the nuances of the story she's telling?
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