It's been a year since I first saw "Woman of the Hour," Anna Kendrick's directorial debut, at its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2023. It still haunts me. Written by Ian McDonald, the film is inspired by the true story of how serial rapist and killer Rodney Alcala appeared on "The Dating Game" in 1978. Not only does Kendrick give a typically intelligent and spunky performance as Sheryl, an aspiring actress and the contestant who matched with him on that fateful day, but as a director, she shows a keen curiosity about the power of the gaze, both cinematic and human.
"You're beautiful," Alcala says to all of his victims, mostly women on the margins of society. He is a photographer. He knows the power of his gaze, of his camera. Kendrick begins her film with a victim who was murdered in 1977. We hear her off-screen before we see her. The first image of her is framed within Alcala's lens. "Try to forget there is a camera here," he tells her. Kendrick then focuses her lens on Alcala's face, actor Daniel Zovatto's eyes masquerading as open pools of empathy, the tool with which he lulls women into a false sense of safety. When he shifts to predator mode, an overwhelming cruelty overtakes his eyes. Kendrick holds on his face, allowing the shift to happen before our eyes, placing us directly in the psyche of his victims.
Later in the film, Alcala and Sheryl go out for drinks. The date is not going well. Sheryl's laughter has caused a change in the seemingly charming bachelor. In recovery mode, she says she doesn't date much. He notes the irony of her going on a dating show. "My agent said it would get me seen," she says. "Did you feel seen?" he asks. The camera frames both in close-ups, framing the conversation as a duel. "I felt looked at," she admits. "How do you feel right now," he pushes. "Fine," she says, despite her visible discomfort. "Fine," he mockingly replies. There's a menacing pause. Then he continues, "You know, most people don't like to be seen. They're afraid. Because you have to be comfortable with yourself. You have to stop performing."
Every woman in Kendrick's film has a moment where she must play "nice" to get through a situation. Sheryl has to navigate this kind of performance many times throughout the film. Take, for instance, the moment when game show host Ed Burke (Tony Hale, perfectly underplaying the sleaze) enters Sheryl's dressing room spouting a deluge of casual misogyny and racism before telling Sheryl not to scare off the bachelors with her intelligence. He tells her she should just smile and laugh, exactly as she did in another scene where two men at a casting call openly debate her physical worth in front of her. Just as she does when rebuffing the advances of neighbor/fellow aspiring actor Terry (Pete Holmes) over drinks. Just as Amy (Autumn Best, a firecracker), a teenage runaway whose escape from Alcala ultimately led to his arrest, also uses a smile and a laugh to survive her violent encounter with him.
As the game show wraps, Sheryl asks if she went too far in changing the questions, effectively turning the whole misogynistic enterprise on its head. Her makeup lady assures her she did not. "No matter what words they use, the question beneath the question remains the same," she insists. "What's the question?" Sheryl asks. "Which one of you will hurt me?" the woman answers. This question remains at the heart of Kendrick's film, as it does with most women going through life in a world that often does not protect them from men's violence. "I knew he was risky, but fuck it—everyone's risky," says one of the victims describing her ex-partner to Alcala as he photographs her mere minutes before violently murdering her.
The film's examination of the power of being seen, and specifically being understood through the act of being seen, is most effective in three mirrored instances. During the filming of the game show, a woman named Laura (Nicolette Robinson, who plays the role like an exposed nerve) has a visceral reaction when Alcala is revealed as one of the bachelors. She is convinced he is the man who killed her friend in Malibu the previous year. As she hastily exits the studio, she knocks over a monitor. During the commotion, the women lock eyes, but the blinding lights prevent Sheryl from receiving the message in Laura's eyes. Later, on her date with Alcala, he tries to order a second round of drinks. Sheryl locks eyes with the cocktail waitress, nodding a desperate "no." The message is received, and the woman says they're closed for the night. Towards the film's end, Amy, trapped in Alcala's car, locks eyes with a man in a truck when they're stopped at a crossroads. Her eyes transmit an urgent plea for help, but the man in the truck looks right through her as he carries on his way.
There is a universal language in looks exchanged between women, especially when a dangerous man is present. I don't know any woman who hasn't had an experience like this, although, unfortunately, these situations don't always end in rescue. As I watched the film, I remembered a night in my twenties when I organized a dinner with an older man, a professional acquaintance. He often gave off strange vibes, but I was young and ambitious. I thought having friends at the dinner would protect me. But one by one, my friends peeled off. They didn't pick up on the message I was transmitting through my gaze. I got out of the situation before it turned too dark, but boundaries were crossed when I was finally alone with the man, and I have never felt more unsafe in my life. This is a feeling Kendrick knows all too well, as she uses every cinematic tool at her disposal to express it.
Comparisons to David Fincher's "Zodiac" are bound to be made, and that would be fair, at least on a surface level. Kendrick has made a slick '70s-set thriller about a serial killer whose reign of terror lasted a decade. Fincher's film is about the men whose lives got wrapped up in trying to solve the mystery of who the Zodiac was and the toll this obsession took on their lives. Kendrick's film uses Alcala to critique the society that enabled him. It's about how society normalizes violence against women through seemingly innocuous sexism and misogyny, which ultimately paves the way for escalated violence. The visual language could be seen as a critique, even of "Zodiac" and the true crime films it spawned, which often seem to revel in recreating this violence.
Although we get glimpses of Alcala's brutal attacks, Kendrick films them either at a distance or in extreme close-ups, minimizing and obscuring them. She builds tension in these scenes through a soundtrack of ambient noises, birds chirping in the wind, the hum of fluorescent lights, and traffic in the streets. Before the violence becomes scintillating or exploitative, she abruptly cuts away, making sure the viewer is aware of their own voyeurism, which she has the power to deny. Instead, she lingers on everyday moments of menace. The many times men touch Sheryl's neck or hair without her permission. The way Laura's boyfriend immediately doubts and then questions what she knows to be true in bones. The way the cops are charmed by Alcala and let him go, with a laugh and a smile.
Halfway through filming her episode of "The Dating Game," the makeup artist tells Sheryl, "You're supposed to be having fun. That's the whole point. Say whatever you want." Wouldn't it be nice if life were that simple and that safe?
On Netflix now.
