NEW YORK (AP) 鈥� It's the final night of tour. SoFi Stadium, just outside Los Angeles, is packed. 80,000 fans stand before , an endless sea of The bestselling artist born Abel Tesfaye emerges onstage. He launches into the first song. Less than a minute goes by, and the unthinkable happens: His voice cracks. And then it is gone.
That September night in 2022 marked a turning point for Tesfaye. He mines the scene in 鈥� where, ironically, it arrives too late. The tedium of an incoherent first act paints the charismatic performer 鈥� one of the last few decades' most popular 鈥� as an unempathetic protagonist in a nonlinear and nonsensical world.
But how much of The Weeknd is here, really? In his first leading role in a feature film, directed by Trey Edward Shults, Tesfaye plays a fictionalized version of himself, an insomniac musician (as made explicitly clear in the 鈥淲ake Me Up鈥� leitmotif, where he sings, 鈥淪un is never rising / I don鈥檛 know if it鈥檚 day or night鈥�). He's marred by a recent breakup from an ex portrayed in a cruel voicemail message (鈥淚 used to think you were a good person,鈥� she says) and a hedonistic lifestyle, instigated by his superficial friend-manager Lee, played Barry Keoghan.
Shortly after Tesfaye loses his voice, a psychosomatic ailment, he meets superfan Amina, portrayed by She offers temporary comfort and, in return, is afforded no agency. She exists for him. Soon, the uninspired horrors begin, culminating in what recalls the torture scene in with less violence. Instead, Amina 鈥� when she is not weeping; I urge all viewers to keep a 鈥渃ry count鈥� and consider what feminist blogs might have to say 鈥� lip-syncs some of The Weeknd's biggest hits back to him, explaining that they're all about 鈥渆mptiness and heartbreak.鈥� Woven throughout is some conversation about absent fathers and fear of abandonment, with unearned delivery and first-draft acuity 鈥� something gesturing at depth without piercing the surface.
According to press materials, Amina and Lee are not real people but representations of Tesfaye. She is meant to represent Tesfaye's disconnected, 鈥渄eeper emotional self鈥� 鈥� and Lee, his public persona. That is not made explicitly clear in the film, except in a very generous reading of the ending. Subtext only works when there is context to back it up, otherwise, you are left with 鈥淗urry Up Tomorrow鈥�: an exciting vanity project with surrealist imagination but stiff writing, no stakes, limited emotional weight and an unclear narrative.
That won't be an issue for superfans, of course 鈥� those intimately familiar with The Weeknd's music and career. This film appears to be for them and Tesfaye, a producer, alone; they have the framework in which to enjoy the runtime. Considering that fandom is the dominant form of popular culture, it's not a bad business decision.
And it's worked for him before. This is not Tesfaye鈥檚 first foray into acting. Aside from his he starred in 鈥� He co-created the show with Sam Levinson, a show that similarly presented unearned provocation. At the time, 鈥淭he Idol鈥� received criticism for its sadomasochistic storytelling that emerged after a shift away from 鈥渢he female perspective,鈥� allegedly a request from Tesfaye. It was not a clever or subversive show, nor was it really even about anything, but it did inspire conversation. It's easy to see how 鈥淗urry Up Tomorrow鈥� may have similar effects.
In a moment where autobiographical films about musicians are 鈥� Lego partnership comes to mind, as does Robbie Williams' 鈥� 鈥� 鈥� 鈥淗urry Up Tomorrow鈥� feels like a misstep for those outside The Weeknd's most devoted. Of course, the film does not identify as a biopic. But it could've benefited from less self-seriousness. And editing.
But what about the music? 鈥淗urry Up Tomorrow鈥� is connected to of the same name 鈥� and in The Weeknd鈥檚 record-breaking trilogy that began with 2020鈥檚 鈥淎fter Hours鈥� and continued with The album, the quietest of the series, worked as an allegory on the trials of fame 鈥� a topic long covered by the most successful purveyors of pop. Retrospectively, it works best as a film's soundtrack than a stand-alone record, ambitious. Like the movie, it gestures at criticism of the celebrity-industrial complex without accomplishing it. It seems obvious, now, to learn that the movie predates the record.
The film's strength far and away is its score, composed by Tesfaye with Daniel Lopatin (better known as the experimental electronic musician Oneohtrix Point Never and for his and 鈥淯ncut Gems鈥� scores). It builds from Tesfaye's discography and morphs into something physical and psychedelic 鈥� at its most elated, dread-filled and clubby. It is so affecting, it almost distracts from moments of dizzying cinematography, with the films' penchant for spinning frames, zooms into upside skylines, blurred vision and erratic lights.
Those tools feel better suited for a music video, the kind of sophisticated visual world Tesfaye has developed in his pop career. They elevate his euphoric, layered, evocative dance-pop, but they do not translate in this film.
鈥淗urry Up Tomorrow,鈥� a Lionsgate release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for language throughout, drug use, some bloody violence and brief nudity. Running time: 105 minutes. One and a half stars out of four.
Maria Sherman, The Associated Press
