Misty Green. Let’s just take a few seconds to appreciate how evocative and sensual those two words sound together—a title (and a central character) capable of piquing our curiosity. How could we not stop to consider watching a movie about Misty Green, whoever she may be?

Misty Green (because it would be absurd to refer to her only as Misty or Green, and the movie knows it) is a thirtysomething Black actress who once won an Emmy and is still recognized on the streets of Los Angeles for a once-popular television show. Now she is broke, practically unemployed, and soon to be homeless. She has one week to vacate the apartment where she has lived ever since the owner, a former lover, died a year earlier. Now his widow (Amy Landecker) has returned, furious to reclaim the property and throw her out immediately. However, upon recognizing the actress, she admires her enough to give her a one-week grace period.

With a glossy stop at the New York Film Festival before its theatrical release, Misty Green, written and directed by comedian Chris Rock, catches you instantly with that hilarious cold open, followed by Misty Green’s name announced in full alongside a freeze frame of the actress peering out from the apartment she will soon no longer inhabit. (See the photo above.) That there is no original song playing right at that moment may perhaps anticipate the uninspired artistic vision that fails to live up to the ambition behind this conflicted and cynical Hollywood anti-fairy tale.

Here’s the saving grace before we discuss the unfortunate results: Misty Green is played by Rosalind Eleazar, an actress who has been around for some time, appearing as a supporting player in film and television, but who has never before had the opportunity to carry a movie on her shoulders. Indeed, she feels like a discovery, a blazing star who puts the entire industry to shame for taking so long to give her the golden opportunity to impress us with her magnetic talent, charisma, and presence. She’s the real deal even before you get to hear her sing (get ready to be blown away when that occurs).

But this half-baked satire about Hollywood’s corrupted soul (or lack thereof) and how the film industry can end up crushing artists and dreamers until it leaves them as damaged goods is never quite willing to go as far as it first promises. Of course, there’s always room for another scathing indictment of Tinseltown, but if you’re not matching Sunset Boulevard or The Player, stopping halfway through the venomous charade translates into mediocrity.

Misty Green has a tumultuous personal life compounded by bad habits. Her brother, Jay (Daniel Kaluuya, returning after a hiatus), has severe mental health issues and has just gotten out of a psych ward. He’s always a figure in her life who sets her back because she feels compelled to take care of him. For her part, despite her great talent, she lacks the discipline and self-control necessary to understand that the night before an audition is probably not the time to go partying and “eat ice cream” (as in snort coke) with an ex-lover who treats her like a booty call. Zach (Adam Driver) worked with her on a movie that never saw the light of day, and he offers to help her with an indecent proposal that she immediately rejects, regardless that the money involved could get her out of her dire financial situation. Let’s just say that going to Dubai to prostitute herself is the Chekhov’s gun here. An aside: Driver, who has overwhelmed us with a series of asshole characters who also happen to be geniuses, finally gets the opportunity to play an asshole who is just an asshole.

In another misstep, Rock inserts himself as Jordan, a director who offers an alternate path that could save Misty Green. They have a professional history together from a version of Cinderella from which she was fired because of her diva antics. He still recognizes and appreciates her talent (and is attracted to her) while revealing that he has been hired to direct a low-budget remake of Dreamgirls, which currently has a limited actress who cannot sing cast in the role of Deena Jones. As it becomes clear, Misty Green was obviously born to play that part, and I suppose that as an audience we are meant to assume that Bill Condon’s adaptation no longer feels like it was released yesterday (2006), and that even in the current Hollywood climate no one would think it unwise to bring back something that will never match Beyoncé and Jennifer Hudson on the big screen. We also need to believe this is a joke about Hollywood, but also a redemptive dream for Misty Green. Unfortunately, this is not a film lucid enough to explore the richness of its own contradictions.

While never boring, Misty Green ultimately disappoints by not cutting deep enough. At the same time, it’s overloaded with a sense of unearned importance: news of a murdered White female USC student, police harassment, and the protagonist’s brother used as a tacked-on totem of social malaise. Rock surely has plenty of anecdotes about Hollywood. However, his comic indictment confuses proximity with honest insight. In turn, he barely has anything authentic to say about racism, misogyny, ageism, and other issues in the entertainment industry without failing to avoid becoming an example of the very problem itself. This is a misfire regardless of the talent involved. In a way, the fact that this is the best film role Eleazar has been cast in so far ultimately proves Rock’s cynical point about the industry after all.

Misty Green will open in the United States via A24 on October 9, 2026.