HURRY UP TOMORROW (2025)

I remember seeing the trailer for Trey Edward Shults’s new film, Hurry Up Tomorrow, in the theatre. Unlike most trailers nowadays, this one didn’t spoil much of anything, nor did it present a synopsis of its narrative. As a matter of fact, it didn’t say much at all; rather, the trailer presented itself with minimal narrative wealth and interlaced abstract visuals consisting of colour and lights in between.

The trailer did its job and did it well, influencing me to look up information on the movie in my own time. I discovered the following: “A musician plagued by insomnia is on the verge of a mental breakdown, and one night during one of their concerts, they meet a strange, mysterious fan within his crowd of cheering fans who pulls him into a psychological odyssey, unravelling the very core of his existence.”

Based on this, Hurry Up Tomorrow seems to be psychoanalytical in nature, consisting of a protagonist who begins to look inward, facing their shadow and all that is repressed there, whether aspects of their person that they’re not comfortable with or detest, or actions they’ve regretted committing that may have harmed one or multiple people.

Although this description is the base for all psychoanalytical thrillers, the film’s premise intrigued me nonetheless, as it reminded me of Shults’s debut film Krisha (2015). This brought to mind my thoughts on that film and a wave of excitement regarding Shults getting a chance to revisit this flavour of subject matter again to strengthen his approach in the areas that I felt were lacking in Krisha; however, it was shortly after entering this period of anticipation that I began to worry.

I discovered that, a month prior to Hurry Up Tomorrow’s trailer’s release, Abel Makkonen Tesfaye, who’s one of the cast in the film, released his last album under his popular pseudonym, ‘the Weeknd’, with the same title as Shults’ new film. Could Shults’ new film be a visualisation of the Weeknd’s latest album, similar to FKA Twigs’ M3LL155X (2015) or Beyoncé’s Lemonade (2016)? If so, why was it being released in cinemas and not streaming services, like every other album-length music video? They certainly garner the attention of their respective fanbases to warrant their inclusions on these platforms, but an actual cinema? It was perplexing.

There’s no way that this could be the case, seeing as the Weeknd’s new album has a narrative, one where Tesfaye is weary of living under the Weeknd persona and attempts to free himself of it after seeing what is on the other side for him—a continuation of his spiritual awakening trilogy (After Hours, Dawn FM, Hurry Up Tomorrow), which I see as his own version of Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy.

If Shultz were to adapt the album’s narrative to the silver screen, it would require the knowledge of what transpired in the previous two albums, and I’d even argue knowledge of what’s covered on 2016’s Starboy would be needed, too. It’s entirely possible to do so, but how would he cover this background knowledge, especially with its 106-minute runtime? This seemed both daring and pretentious, especially since Tesfaye is credited as a writer, a producer, and the protagonist, and to my chagrin, it was, but it was also frustrating because as a film, Hurry Up Tomorrow has a lot of potential to be incredibly impactful.

Hurry Up Tomorrow isn’t some corporatised commodity whose sole function is to facilitate capital by enticing those who have never taken the time to listen to the Weeknd to do so prior to seeing it or alluring his fanbase into trekking to their local cinema to view it on opening weekend. No. Not in the slightest. It’s clear that Tesfaye approached creating this film as a fan of cinema, which is evident if you’ve caught the constant homages he makes in his music videos. Tesfaye has his own vision of how he wants this adaptation to play out, hence why he’s collaborating with Shults to facilitate the psychological aspect of the album’s narrative, yet the film’s narrative is vastly different by comparison, and not for the better.

The film follows some of the major narrative points from the album: a fictionalised version of Tesfaye is haunted by parts of his past and who he is as the Weeknd in the form of nightmares that follow with moments of sleep paralysis, to which he indulges in vices and carnal pleasures to ease the weight of what he has done, but they prove to be ineffective as a means of treatment and eventually cause him to lose his voice during his performance at Sofi Stadium, sending him further down a downward spiral leading to a psychological breaking point as he confronts his shadow.

What’s different is the vehicle in which Tesfaye confronts his repressed guilt and aspects of his character. Instead of confronting his persona manifested, it’s split into two characters: Lee (Barry Keoghan) and Anima (Jenna Ortega). Lee acts as the unconscious fervour that wants Tesfaye to continue onwards towards the growth of stardom, the lavish lifestyle, and just being on top of the world both socially and culturally; and Anima acts as the comfort and warm embrace that comes with normality, living a life freely, and experiencing all that it has to offer.

However, Anima’s characterisation doubles as something else that’s deep-rooted in Jungian psychoanalysis, but not as a part as her name directly suggests, but rather as another part of a bigger whole, which is bewildering. I’m not sure if Tesfaye or Shults is to blame, or even both for that matter, but whoever was responsible for Anima’s characterisation isn’t well versed in Jung’s map of the human psyche and how each element of it functions within it.

Although this film is more layered and ambitious than Krisha, it suffers from the same shortcomings regarding a lack of psychological narrative complexity and adhesion. This is most evident in the films’ first act, as it lacks the weight required that would allow me to feel invested in Tesfaye as a character, feel the hardships he’s going through, and care about his well-being—a weight that could have portrayed the perks and mulcts that are explored in both Starboy and After Hours.

Sure, Shults’ signature avant-garde visual direction, editing, and use of music are there to facilitate some of that psychological weight, and they’re executed extremely well, too, evoking an experience in the vein of Terrence Malick’s Tree of Life (2011), one of my personal favorites; however, like Krisha, he gets lost in his own sauce, except more so this time around. Shults is more concerned with these technical approaches than the narrative sinew that binds the avant-gardewith storytelling, and even then, some of its avant-garde direction is muddled by being too abstract to the point where its psychoanalytical and emotional texture is lost.

Then, after a certain point in the film, Shults completely abandons these technical approaches in filmmaking that were used to aid the film’s psychological direction and begins to solely rely on expository dialogue to reach that potential moment of reprieve that all psychological thrillers strive towards: the merging of unconscious content into the conscious mind. It’s as though Shults just gave up on his cinematic signature to present this psychoanalytical climax in a more “conventional” sense; however, doing so compromised the film’s payoff and left me a bit disappointed.

The acting in Hurry Up Tomorrow is a mixed bag. Keoghan does a great job at playing a character that is meant to be insufferable. Lee is Tesfaye’s closest friend and manager, which is evident based on their rapport; however, I swear I was beginning to suffer an aneurysm with the amount of times Lee used the word “bro” whenever he spoke. It’s not overdone to the point of contrivance; rather, it’s overdone in a realistic sense. Lee encompasses the attitude of mind associated with the title of lothario. Seeing as I’m from New York, I’m surrounded by similar characters no matter what external social setting I go to, so seeing Keoghan’s accurate performance on screen is reflective of the constant repetition of verbal diarrhoea of a singular strain that intrusively invades my head anytime I go to a brewery, eatery, or whatever.

I’ve read that Ortega had to undergo surgery, physiotherapy, and muscle activation techniques immediately after the filming of Hurry Up Tomorrow, due to her carrying most of it on her back to make up for Tesfaye’s abhorrent performance. Where Ortega convincingly showcases mental instability and volatility, Tesfaye shows an equal amount of ineptitude towards properly conveying emotions on screen. This man’s emotional evocation is so restrained and soft that it reminds me of Michael Jackson’s parodic cadence in South Park. It’s embarrassing.

Despite Hurry Up Tomorrow’s shortcomings of not doing enough, doing things incorrectly, and not doing anything at all, I was mesmerised by what it did right. There’s something underneath all that I take issue with in this film, and had Shults and Tesfaye spent more time writing and refining its content, then, as I stated earlier, it could have been incredibly impactful. It wears its inspirations on its sleeve but doesn’t take any notes on how to achieve their same level of cogency, especially with how Shults and Tesfaye approach the film’s anticipated psychological reprieve; that moment was egregious!

As it stands, Hurry Up Tomorrow is an undercooked, unfulfilling, vacuous, and embarrassing attempt at a psychological thriller that could have been of the same quality as Persona (1966), Lost Highway (1997), Mulholland Drive (2001), The Lighthouse (2019), and such, had Shults learned from the shortcomings in his approach with his debut film, Krisha, especially now that he has the clout and budget. Maybe he’ll learn one day.

USA | 2025 | 105 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Trey Edward Schults.
writers: Trey Edward Schults, Abel Tesfaye & Reza Fahim (based on the music album by ‘the Weeknd’ .
starring: Abel Tesfaye, Jenna Ortega, Barry Keoghan, Riley Keough, Metro Boomin, Belly, Gaspard Augé, Xavier de Rosnay & Paul L. Davis.