Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B
Editing: B+

On the Count of Three may surprise you with how it handles multiple sensitive issues, from gun control, to mental health, to race. It surprised me, anyway. Opinions may vary, but on all fronts, from my point of view, the surprises were good.

Which is not to say this movie is fun, in spite of it being sold as a dark comedy. You deserve to be warned about this, especially as the movie comes recommended: it’s more of a tragedy, which happens to have a few chuckles. But, it’s a very good one.

I can’t help but compare it to Blindspotting (2018), which is both more accomplished and more assured in execution, a better example of a nuanced portrayal of a Black man and a white man who are best friends. (That film is also better shot, better edited, and funnier.) The great thing about On the Count of Three is that it offers a different example of such a relationship. We’re actually moving into an era of cinema where we have more than one example of how specific kinds of representation matter, with varying levels of quality.

Mind you, On the Count of Three competently holds its own, itself an impressive directorial debut by standup comedian and actor Jerrod Carmichael, who also plays one of the two leads, Val. And in this movie, instead of two guys struggling to elevate themselves from the mistakes in their lives, these best friends spend a day under the agreement that, at the end of it, they will end their lives.

The other best friend is Kevin (Christopher Abbott), the one with the lifelong struggle with mental health issues, who we meet in a psychiatric facility three days after a suicide attempt. As is becoming a trope, the opening shot is of a scene we will return to again later, with Val and Kevin holding their guns to each other’s heads, counting to three, and before it reaches three we’re taken back to the beginning of the day. I’m not spoiling much to say that we get back to this countdown moment surprisingly quickly, when Kevin decides he’s not ready just yet: he wants to live out one last day, with the knowledge that there will ultimately be no consequences. It’s the rest of their day together that makes up the bulk of, and is the point of, this movie.

There’s a moment when Kevin decides they are going to kill a man, the therapist who further damaged him as a child. (This character is played by Henry Winkler, always a welcome screen presence, even though he wears a wig in a couple of flashback scenes that fails miserably at the clear aim of making him look younger. This choice is the only clearly bad one made in the making of this movie.) Kevin’s plan creates a new sense of tension that Carmichael handles deftly, as it sets up a clear question: will this movie take these characters past a tragic point of no return?

That is the key element that I will not spoil, except to say that, quite satisfyingly, things don’t go in a direction you’re quite able to predict. I will say it’s refreshing to see mental health, and in particular suicidal ideation, handled with empathy and without condescension. When Val decides he also wants to die, it’s clear from the start that it does not come from the same, deeply seeded well of mental illness as Kevin.

In the midst of this, I found myself wondering whether this movie, co-written by Ari Katcher and Ryan Welch (oddly, two former Alaskans who previously co-created the Hulu series Rami, with Rami Youssef), would even address race. It gets about halfway through before it does, and only after Kevin starts drinking and starts spewing odd platitudes clearly borne of white guilt. I can only assume (and hope) Carmichael had a lot to contribute, particularly when it comes to things like Val’s penchant for calling Kevin the N-word, a bit of subtle irony.

In any case, the focus stays on the close relationship between these friends. Even the depiction of intimacy between two straight men is of an unusual sort here—not unusual for real life, but usual for cinema. There’s a casual comfort between them, both physically and emotionally, that feels genuine in a way rarely seen. As a side note, Carmichael recently made headlines by coming out as gay in his brilliant standup special Rothaniel, which can be streamed on HBO Max. This shouldn’t be relevant but it is, after years of Hollywood patting straight actors on the back for “sensitively” playing gay parts but not giving gay actors any of the parts at all. Then, gay actors starting getting the gay parts . . . but here, we have a gay actor playing a straight lead character, and no one is calling it “not believable.” (Incidentally, this film was shot in late 2019, more than two years before the release of Rothaniel.)

The plot of On the Count of Three feels patterned on a formula, but one that works: there’s some action and excitement in the third act, even including a car chase. Carmichael unfolds this otherwise unique story within those parameters with a finesse that’s all his own. I won’t reveal the fate of these characters, except to say the conclusion is both surprising and satisfying. This film’s approach to mental illness, in the writing, the direction, and especially Christopher Abbott’s performance, is done with an integrity you can’t help but respect.

Overall: B+