REVIEW: ‘Woman Of The Hour’ Simmers With Rage

In Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut, Woman of the Hour, she leaves us up close and personal with an incessant gnawing-at-the-pit-of-your-stomach kind of anxiety. Shot with an assured and measured gaze that understands the palpable yet unspeakable horrors these victims faced, Kendrick, alongside writer Ian McDonald, ensures that it never reaches exploitative territory. There’s a skillful effect to how Kendrick films, refusing frills for clean, open frames that help illuminate the darkness encroaching on those onscreen.

The film bases itself on the life of serial killer Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto). In 1978, amidst his murder spree, he appeared on the competition series The Dating Show. Kendrick plays the questioning bachelorette Cheryl Bradshaw (Anna Kendrick), a down-on-her-luck actress who took the gig to help her “be seen” by other Hollywood executives. Told in fragments that jump between the game show, Rodney’s past crimes, and the woman he stalks that will ultimately lead to his arrest, it doesn’t matter how much you already know about his actions. The film excels at getting under our skin through passive misogyny and abrasive, lurking intimidation.

At one point, Cheryl is told she has a great smile. And it is, but not for the reason the scummy producers say it. Kendrick’s smiles as Cheryl tells us everything we need to know about the men she interacts with throughout the film. It is tight-lipped and out of instinctual courtesy. A smile that hides evident frustration with a male suitor. A smile that deflects tension that immediately sends up her red flags. It’s a smile so many women know, one that’s placating in hopes of defusing anything from an uncomfortable to potentially violent moment.

Woman Of The Hour doesn’t seek false empowerment. The women in this story are strong and full of life—the ones who die and those who survive their encounters with Rodney. But it’s realistic in its approach because real people died at his hands. Cheryl’s triumphant moment on The Dating Game, where she turns the table on the producers’ request for her not to come across as too intelligent, plays into Rodney’s hands. The triumph is survival.

Kendrick and McDonald never allow the murderer a moment of humanity. He is, from start to finish, a leeching predator. Zovatto is overwhelming in this role; his presence and stature—how he holds himself—are imposing even when he isn’t actively violent. Zovatto, Kendrick, and cinematographer Zach Kuperstein understand how to frame a shot so that his threat is ever present. A moment of nauseating tension sees him walking at the back of the shot, quickly gaining on his would-be victim.

Woman of the Hour finds its greatest strength in stealing oxygen from the room. A seemingly pleasant exchange that dangerously sours strips the music from the moment, leaving us with the heavy weight of unfilled silence. So much about the film is about the consequences and inaction of those — often men — in power who don’t listen or care about women’s valid concerns. The two times Cheryl is listened to — is seen, something she desperately wants — is by other women. Men, meanwhile, continually let her and the other victims down to fatal results.

Nothing about Woman of the Hour seeks to sensationalize or tantalize. Instead, Kendrick’s direction ensures we experience her characters’ visceral unease and fear. It makes the film gripping because we anticipate the horror they will face and expect the ball to drop. Despite the deep, unnerving feeling the film leaves us with, it’s also quietly refreshing to see true crime handled with such a deft, compassionate hand.

Kendrick delivers a terrific performance, balancing her vulnerabilities and steely resolve. She conveys so much by saying so little and actively reacting to those around her. In her debut role, Autumn Best anchors a pivotal portion of the film as teenage runaway Amy, with blatant panic buried by sheer, learned survivability. Nicolette Robinson is strong, if underutilized, as a woman who faces the injustices of law enforcement that refuses to see the evidence she’s piling up in front of them.

Woman of the Hour is a staggering directorial debut from Kendrick. Pulsating with a necessary, simmering rage, the film portrays a serial killer while honoring the victims and their voices that were so needlessly and criminally silenced – both by the killer himself and those who could stop it and refused to listen. Purposefully infuriating as we watch and wish to scream for those who aren’t listened to, Woman of the Hour aches and silently rages against the system.

Woman of the Hour is out October 18 on Netflix.