“Hurry Up Tomorrow”– A Visually Stunning Misstep

Hurry Up Tomorrow is part Vanilla Sky, part extended, artful music video. It’s layered in grief, disorientation, and romantic chaos—a cinematic fever dream dripping with mood and style. But as bold and ambitious as the film is, it’s also a reminder that not all visions are meant to stretch across a feature-length runtime. Some things hit harder when they’re condensed. And Hurry Up Tomorrow might’ve landed more powerfully as a short film or a visual album, think Remember the Time-era Michael Jackson or Beyoncé’s genre-defying visual narratives.

A Feast for the Eyes, But Not the Story

There’s no denying this is a visually commanding film. Director Trey Edward Shults, who previously gave us the emotionally immersive Waves, brings that same intensity here. Every frame is soaked in atmosphere. The camera never just observes; it becomes a part of the moments. The sound design pulses and matches the scenes. The cinematography dares you to look closer and sometimes away due to flashing lights. Shults knows how to marry image and emotion, and there are moments here that glimmer with that brilliance. At times, you can feel what he’s going for.

But intention and execution don’t always hold hands. And Hurry Up Tomorrow, for all its aesthetic muscle, ends up feeling bloated. The plot doesn’t ground you; it more or less drifts. It’s a montage of vibes more than a cohesive narrative, and the longer it goes on, the more it begins to resemble a style reel stitched together by heartbreak and fog.

The Weeknd’s Sonic Realm vs. Cinematic Struggle

The Weeknd, who co-created and stars in the film as a fictionalized version of himself, feels more at home in the sonic world than in the character work. Musically, his fingerprints are all over this: the haunting synths, the melancholic production, the themes of obsession and decay. Fans of his will find a lot to admire here; they understand his world of gorgeous ruin. But as a lead actor, he doesn’t quite carry the weight. His performance feels emotionally muted at times, just as the story begs for volatility and range.

When Less Would Have Been More

And that’s the thing. This film could’ve thrived as a 20- or 30-minute visual piece. Something tighter. Something more focused. There’s a long lineage of artists who’ve done just that: Prince with Purple Rain, Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation, Kanye West’s Runaway. These weren’t traditional narratives—they were emotional and entertaining showcases. Hurry Up Tomorrow clearly wants to live in that space, but it overextends itself.

What really made me feel that this should’ve been shorter is Jenna Ortega’s character, Anima. Her performance is solid—haunting, even. I believed in her instability. I felt her unraveling. But the film never gives us enough. Who is she, really? Could she have escaped a mental institution? Why is she so magnetized to The Weeknd’s character? There’s chemistry between them, and I caught the shift happening within his character—his growing heartbreak, his spiraling. But that shift wasn’t earned. Why is he so devastated by this ex who, frankly, he didn’t seem to deserve in the first place? I kept thinking: what if Jenna’s character had said something like, “I can be better than her. I can replace her.” That could’ve been the trigger, the thing that sets off the emotional tailspin. Instead, we get fragments without a center.

Keoghan’s Compelling Turn

Barry Keoghan, on the other hand, is intense. His performance as Lee is desperate and believable. You understand why his character is pushing so hard for The Weeknd’s character to keep performing. It’s more about survival than friendship and business. If the artist quits, there’s nothing left for him. No backup plan. No credentials. Just a man clinging to someone else’s talent because it’s the only thing keeping him afloat. I could’ve seen a little more of it.

Ambitious Vision, Blurry Impact

Ultimately, Hurry Up Tomorrow is a beautiful experiment that needed a different canvas. As a visual album, it could’ve been transcendent—sound and image in perfect synergy. As a short film, it could’ve delivered its emotional punch without all the narrative fog. Instead, it stretches its ambition thin, and the weight of its own beauty starts to blur the impact.

Still, credit where it’s due: Trey Edward Shults swung big. The fans will show up. The aesthetics will inspire. And maybe that’s enough. But if the goal was lasting emotional resonance, less might’ve truly been more. I give the film 5/10.