Before Uncut Gems, there was Good Time, a film that explores the inequalities of race, wealth disparity and the judicial system under the veneer of a crime thriller.
Good Time is a thriller placed in very high regard critically and looked back on as low budget flick that revived public consciousness of Robert Pattinson who, for many years, had immersed himself as an Indie-darling post-Twilight saga. Pattinson pre-Good Time had spent a large portion of his career working with independent and experimental filmmakers, honing his craft and developing an impressively diverse resume.
Josh and Benny Safdie who, for many years, had built a filmography of claustrophobic pieces on the bleak reality of working class struggles, Good Time was arguably the first of their features to overlap into mainstream notoriety. Good Time is seemingly the culmination of the Safdie Brother’s developing style; the grand result of the decade long graft they’ve undertaken and presented to a core small audience of dedicated cinemagoers. They have expertly crafted what is an incredibly tense overnight odyssey amongst the seedy and left behind communities of America, with the added facets of neon lighting, uncompromising cinematography, and a breakneck pace; like Scorsese's After Hours on a psychedelic trip.
Opening with a therapy session in which Benny Safdie’s character Nick is dragged out of his consultation by his brother Connie (Pattinson), Good Time’s first act involves the two undertaking a bank heist that goes south. Nick is arrested, and Connie is tasked with bailing him out and then rescuing him from a hospital after he is assaulted in jail. While Connie's actions may initially allude to a loving act of saving one's brother from peril, the audience soon comes to understand that there are malignant motives at play.
At the heart of Good Time is a psychopathic anti-hero who leaches and manipulates the array of marginalized characters in his vicinity to advance his own position. He is the classic manipulator archetype who hides under a veneer of good will and backhanded civility in order to prey on those who are weak, whether it be in their age, their health, or their positionality within contemporary society.
He is a predator, in every sense of the word; a microcosm for the vast and troubling number of unaccounted for men who thrive on the manipulation of the marginalized for the purpose of elevation within their own position. His motives are financial, but many of his actions are impulsive and instantaneous; it is purely primitive. His eyes beam, darting back and forward, always scheming, and then acting impulsively on the smallest opportunity to take and manipulate.
He is a predator, in every sense of the word
The person of color, to Connie, can always be used as a fall guy or a means to an end. Whether it’s dressing up in blackface to rob a bank, knowing that he can easily direct the blame onto a persecuted ethnic group or hiding out in a predominately black neighborhood, Connie’s deception is multilayered. Arguably the worst of Connie’s scheming, is the mistreatment of an unconscious black security guard, whom Connie strips of his uniform and directs the police towards after forcing LSD down his throat, allowing the officers to finger the bloodied and beaten black male as a criminal.
If there is any scene that fortifies the validity of this claim, it is the “I’m Better Than You” scene towards the climax of the film. Condemning the character of Ray as a leach who feeds off the charity of others is a potently ironic reminder that Connie is exactly that; a predatory animal who stalks and lures his prey into a false sense of security before draining them of everything or using them for his own gain, unaware or maybe just unbothered of the moral and legal consequences these actions may invoke. He gives the smallest amount of himself up, even if it is a façade, and then takes an unequal amount from his target in return. There’s something particularly frightening about Connie as he sneaks into the hospital room of a dying black woman, stares blankly at her, makes her sip orange juice before downing the rest of it for himself. In essence, Connie, as a male predator, excels within the systems of marginalization that many societies have imposed on specific subsects.
Good Time is easily an interesting character study on a psychopathic manipulator as much as it is a stellar thriller. Pattinson is completely irredeemable yet captivating and engrossing to watch onscreen. His impulsive schemes throughout the film are portrayed in a frantic and desperate manner, heightening the tension. But, they also give way to a frightening and quite frankly disturbing insight into the realities of racial privilege, the disposability of the weak and the manipulation of the marginalized for financial gain.
