‘Look Into My Eyes’ Review – A Probing Profile Of New York City Psychics From Lana Wilson

My girlfriend and I have a running if-unacknowledged joke between us whenever we stroll past a psychic’s office in New York City. Variations of “Shall we go in?” or “Oh, good, we’re here,” tend to be exchanged, accompanied by chuckles, and followed by the arrival at our true, non-ridiculous destination, like a diner that sells two eggs and wheat toast for $15.95. No matter the hit our wallet takes from a greasy breakfast we could have made at home in half the time and for far less money, at least we walk away from our clean plates feeling both full and satisfied rather than robbed, as we likely would if we actually gave “Madame Web’s Tarot Readings, Inc.” the time of day.

The aforementioned laughter has never been intentionally dismissive of a profession that is about as robust in Manhattan as the island’s population of pigeons. Psychics are everywhere here, from the Financial District to Harlem, often residing in second-floor offices above a vape shop or a flourishing escape room business; it appears as though methamphetamines can be accessed with ease from a back room “hidden” behind a tie-dyed curtain. (He says as though he’s actually been in one of these rooms.) The point is, plenty of reasonable, smart people do seek out the services of these mind-reading candlelighters, and they tend to walk away feeling more at peace or enlightened than any daily dose of Effexor has afforded me. So much so that Lana Wilson has managed to make a documentary dedicated to their craft that genuinely left me wondering, “Can ‘The Oracle’ off of 56th tell me whether or not I’m anything like the grandfather I never met?”

But the great thing about Look Into My Eyes, the latest from the structural master that made Taylor Swift appear human in 2020’s excellent Miss Americana, is that it never goes so far as to suggest that you have to believe in what (and who) you’re watching. The psychics in front of her lens don’t even always believe in their work: “Yeah. All the time,” one tells Wilson through a chuckle after she asks him if he ever doubts what he does, if he ever wonders whether or not it’s real. In a scene soon after this on-cam, we see the same psychic struggling to make contact with his client’s deceased loved one, explaining that the room’s energy altered his ability to do so. This practice is hardly an exact science, something Wilson – and her subjects – know all too well. 

Then again, other sessions are far more successful. One psychic is able to discern that a family of three had two more children, though they never made it into this world; it’s a connection that brings them to tears both out of remembrance and out of surprise that she is able to see them. Later, the same clairvoyant takes a different approach, helping a young Black man reckon with personal struggles related to his great, great grandfather’s time as an enslaved person, a conversation that leads him to note, “Why am I wearing his chains?” (“Right? See? Go ‘head, grandpappy,” she exclaims in a gleeful response.) 

There are also some appointments that fall in the in-between gray area, not quite productive yet convincing enough. One of the subjects brings his own life experiences to the consultation, though it seems like he’s attempting to distract from an inability to paint a proper picture of someone’s past and family dynamic. Many of them gather information on certain likes and dislikes, and then seem to make educated hypotheses on what these revelations might refer to. (“I see a tu-tu,” one says, and it turns out the man’s daughter loved a book that featured a ballerina.) Again, there’s hardly a note of perfection to this practice, but practice makes about as close to perfect as one can get at a profession based on grasping at spiritual straws. 

These mediums come in all forms, from those who strictly communicate with dead humans to one who only connects with animals/pets, living or not. But all are their own sort of eccentric, a quality that makes Look Into My Eyes a far less solemn exercise than it might otherwise be. Of course, the thing about convening with the dead is that no matter how jovial you may be, an air of despair has the potential to cast a pall over the proceedings, but Wilson does an excellent job of juggling tones from the jump. The film’s opening montage features an array of fortune-seekers asking psychics everything from “I just want to know if she can see if I am going to have hens,” to a sing-songy inquiry: “Financiallyyyyyy, what would beeeee, good for meeeeee.”

To find this balance, Wilson vetted 150 psychics – give or take – and sat through over 100 sessions in order to whittle her collection of footage down to what made the final cut, a process that was evidently painstaking given how intentional everything in Look Into My Eyes feels. Detours to the homes of various subjects are enlightening in their own right, providing insight into what brought people to this field and what has kept them there for decades. Many of these psychics have similar apartments and backgrounds: Their spaces are cluttered, filled to the brim with books and DVDs, and they all seem to work in film, television, and/or stage as aspiring performers. Admittedly, this sort of detail is bound to make one question the nature of necromancy; if these people are performers by trade, then what’s stopping them from putting on an act in these rooms? Yet, as was mentioned before, whether or not it’s “real” isn’t Wilson’s point, nor is it the point of the practice itself. The primary goal is to provide someone with peace of mind, to place the missing puzzle pieces in their corresponding slots so that a pained human being can move on knowing that their beloved is resting easy, and doesn’t blame them for not knowing how to properly grieve.

This is precisely what makes Wilson the perfect documentarian to capture this world. Despite the sudden switch in structure that seemed to have been required of her in order to make 2023’s two-part documentary, Pretty Baby: Brooke Shields – the lesser of her nine directorial efforts if only due to an over-reliance on archival footage that made it feel distant and hollow – she tends to prioritize being on observer rather than an investigator. Wilson’s camera has never once been invasive, and she’s not about to start here, regardless of the fact that one of her responsibilities is to interview the selected psychics. But rather than probing them for information regarding the truth behind their techniques, she lets them speak for themselves, to tell her what they know and what they believe in. Perhaps Wilson – and by extension, us as viewers – were under their microscopes all along. All the more reason for us to give in, and tell them what more we’d like to know.

Look Into My Eyes will debut in theaters beginning September 6, 2024, courtesy of A24.