Hurry Up Tomorrow: A Mixed Review

So, “Hurry Up Tomorrow” is coming out—it’s something we’re starting to see more often, right? It’s tied to The Weeknd’s sixth studio album, which won a Grammy. But honestly, viewers might find themselves lost in the nearly two-hour runtime.

While it’s labeled a thriller, the film dives into moments of real vulnerability. Like many of The Weeknd’s projects, it tries to balance between genuine self-reflection and his public persona—sometimes smiling but not always joking. It’s hard to forget that eye-catching Super Bowl Halftime Show he did to promote his “After Hours” album.

This marks The Weeknd’s third venture into film, yet it’s his first full-length feature. He collaborates again with director Trey Edward Shults, who co-wrote the script with him and Reza Fahim, the creator of “Idol.” Much like “Idol,” themes of fame, drugs, and identity weave through the narrative, as The Weeknd’s character wrestles with the burdens of celebrity. Throughout, he’s under stress, which is palpable as he performs. You get the feeling he wants to retreat from the spotlight but can’t help but seek it—his path crosses with Anima, played by Jenna Ortega, who has her own struggles.

This isn’t just a chance meeting. Anima is deeply unstable and has her own history with trauma, like the fire that marked The Weeknd’s childhood. They meet under less-than-ideal circumstances, and she offers a temporary escape from their chaotic lives. After sharing music and intimate moments in their hotel rooms, he gets a little too comfortable and says, “Don’t leave me.” The next morning, those words hit hard as he tries to navigate his rock star life, leading him on a disorienting journey.

Visually, the film is pretty engaging. Shot on 35mm film, the stunning landscapes of the Canadian Rockies and Southern California really stand out. The Weeknd commands the screen; his energy is reminiscent of Michael Jackson, even in his signature jacket. The chemistry between him and Ortega is palpable, yet it’s unfortunate that their connection feels drowned out in what often resembles an extended music video—a continuation of The Weeknd’s previous short films.

However, “Tomorrow” struggles with clarity, both visually and narratively. It seems to meander without a clear direction, and the film’s exploration of addiction doesn’t always hit the mark. Shults, known for capturing mood, often relies on chaotic visuals, which feels overwhelming here. If the story had allowed for more depth in Anima’s role, it could have made her observations of The Weeknd’s character more impactful. Instead, these moments can feel torturous, which is ironic considering the film itself is packed with its own kind of suffering.

The album-to-film concept isn’t new, but “Tomorrow” attempts to break away from the mold. Ultimately, it raises questions about what growth looks like for an artist like The Weeknd, who’s trying to move past his earlier sound. The film seems to overlook the irony and complexity it could have highlighted. It ends up feeling vague, and I wonder if viewers will remember much beyond those moments of tension and introspection. Who knows, maybe The Weeknd will look back and wish he had taken a different approach.