Not Okay

6,5 / 10

Red Rocket meets social media mechanisms

A biting presentation about the spectrum of power from social media and an absurd display of snowball effects stemming from the depressed and privileged woman Danni Sanders who desperately tries to be heard by her toxic environment. The content warning in the beginning irritates, but even without it, Zoey Deutch’s protagonist comes straight off as unsympathetic and in dire need of attention. Her permanent lack of empathy and even the name of her workplace Depravity – a fitting name for a terminally ill environment inside an online media outlet – hammers the “unlikability” of her character into the viewer’s head.

Not Okay deals with the manipulation of content as an alternative way to get out of the grey void, also known as depression. Danni Sanders, who usually works as a photo editor at Depravity, wants to improve herself by becoming a writer and shows signs of envy towards her workmate Colin (Dylan O’Brien) who rakes in fame and has gained a small influencer status through his weed adventures which he covers in his blog. During their coincidental meet in the streets of New York City and with a high state of mind, she pretends to attend a writer’s camp in Paris soon and promises to show lots of footage from her travel experience. Not knowing what she got into, she desperately thinks of an idea to cover up the expensive flight and camp and does so by photoshopping herself into various sightseeing spots in Paris and impersonates tourists via stereotypes. But this ill-shaped idea backfires heavily as one of her faked posts collides with a tragic event happening in the French capital.

Danni’s dopamine-fueled journey through the realms of Instagram works wonders at first, but she doesn’t see the tragic news as the final call to shut down her wrong-headed operation. She further delves into the ocean filled with likes, emojis and followers and utilizes various forms of attention on social media: Slipping into a victim role, sharing thoughts and prayers, giving out emotional interviews and so on and so forth. One element after another gets added to the toxic cocktail which catapults her reputation onto a whole new level, but also makes a fall from her position all the more harmful. Her fake fame starts leaking into her work environment and the community of New York City and it’s breathtaking to see, how none of her irreverent missteps wakes her up from the shiny dream that temporarily distracts her from depression.

A wave of realism hits Danni as she meets Rowan (Mia Isaac), a survivor of a school shooting, who calls out the law upon unrestricted gun violence in her furious spoken words, held at demonstrations. Both women have in common that their activities generate attention on Instagram, but whereas Danni’s approach is simply made up by playing a victim of the tragic event, Rowan’s concerns originate from her personal loss and grief. The authenticity of their respective tragedy is the main difference between them. But that doesn’t stop Danni from further indulging in her addiction for likes and follows as her unreal victim campaign culminates in the creation of a hashtag and an opinion piece. The hashtag goes viral as readers across several platforms empathize with her, but Danni’s clickbait-thirsty work environment comes back to bite her as the rise to fame gets questioned.

From sky is the limit to being kicked to the ground – the power of social media isn’t represented in the simple number of likes and followers, but lies more in the abruptness of collective responses as soon as the image of a celebrity starts to crack. Director Quinn Shephard accomplishes that with time lapses during her fake fame momentum and a variety of exaggerated responses from influencers across the board with the eventual turmoil. Ironically, Shephard also plays with these huge dynamics, not just within social media, but with Danni’s character itself. It very much feels like a juggling act performed with grenades instead of balls which makes this dark comedy entertaining and dramatic, but also creates an evil indecisiveness about whether viewers can understand Danni’s approach or not. As soon as you start to connect her rise to fame to a desperate call for help during depression, the real victims of the tragic event in Paris turn into collateral damage which would be a horrific act of irreverence.

Shephard makes clear that the protagonist’s exploitation of a real tragedy is absolutely unacceptable, but a deep dive into the mindset would have been really interesting. Unlike Red Rocket’s Mikey Saber, whose toxicity comes from his long-term involvement in the porn industry and a failed relationship, Danni Sanders’ background is barely fleshed out. We get to see an immaculate family which she could rely to if she didn’t embark on this virtual journey in the first place. The director builds the character arc around Avril Lavigne’s hit “Complicated” which is perfectly fine and intentionally cringe-worthy, but Cailin Russo’s “Declaration” – a catchy song played during the end credits – hints at the further potential of Not Okay as the refrain says: “This is a declaration of a fuck up, a product of how I was raised, and I don’t expect a single teardrop, whoa I’m ashamed.” The lines summarize Danni’s disaster and her acceptance of the backlash – an abstract way of self-harm – but also breaks the door open for her privileged background and a possible explanation for the emotional void. Then again, there is the issue with sympathy for the protagonist which is laid out like an easy trap.

The great performance from Zoey Deutch adds to this mean mix of plot ingredients and Mia Isaac delivers powerful speeches and convincingly shows the trauma that follows her from day to day. Dylan O’Brien plays the effects of the celebrity status and his condescending treatment of women (another disturbing downside from Danni’s fake fame) from his weed fanatic Colin with ease. In the end, Not Okay documents the dynamics of social media, its addictive rush and, much like Red Rocket, shows the fall of Danni to a persona non grata inside and outside of the virtual platforms. Granted, if the content warning isn’t there, Quinn Shephard’s dark dramedy would be a difficult litmus test for the viewers, though it’s possible to have a fruitful discussion about the aversion towards a protagonist, regardless of the gender. The viewers should be able to dissect the character for themselves. If anything, the warning exposes the test audiences and their categorization of leading actresses in a film which is seriously not okay.