When I first heard about Netflix’s “Woman of the Hour,” I was curious to see Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut. As a relative fan of hers, I didn’t have many expectations, but I am glad to say that she did not disappoint.
Set in 1978, the thriller follows struggling actress Cheryl Bradshaw (Anna Kendrick), who goes on “The Dating Game” to kick-start her career. While on television, she unknowingly matches with serial killer Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto).
It adds a more intense layer to the storyline because it’s inspired by a true story. Truth is scarier than fiction. You can’t comfort yourself by saying there are no such things as monsters or ghosts —multiple girls were killed and raped without consequence for years.
“Woman of the Hour” jumps from Cheryl’s experience to many of the girls Alcala tortured. It’s a lot to focus on, but it’s a clear way to see his tactics. As a photographer, Alcala complements his victims’ beauty and expresses his need to capture it. He then lures girls to an isolated place to take their photos where no one will catch him.
Watching the way he crept in on girls made my skin crawl.
The film’s dialogue and relationship dynamics clearly reflect female insight. Kendrick did an amazing job of showing the discomfort of the male gaze.
“Woman of the Hour” lingers on everyday moments, such as the many times men touch Cheryl’s neck or hair without her permission. Cheryl is constantly looked at as just a pretty face.
Even though Cheryl acknowledges that “The Dating Game” is beneath her, she needs any television coverage she can get, no matter how misogynistic it may be.
The game has multiple rounds, during which Cheryl asks three hidden bachelor’s dating questions to see if they have chemistry. She goes through the first round, asking shallow questions that make her look dumb and desirable.
Miserable with how she appears on camera, the backstage crew eventually reminds her that this experience is supposed to be fun. Cheryl starts changing the previously written-out cards and asks more substantive questions. She pokes fun at the bachelors’ intelligence and gets a laugh as some of them struggle to come up with answers.
In between rounds, she asks her makeup artist whether she went too far. Her artist assures her she didn’t. She simply asked the questions every girl wants to know: Which one of you will hurt me?
As the game wraps up, none other than Bachelor Three, Alcala, is chosen for his intuitive answers to Cheryl’s questions.
Zovatto’s performance as Alcala nailed the persona of the serial killer. We are placed into his psyche — he acts normal and charismatic one moment — and shifts into a cruel, unstable maniac with no compassion in his eyes the next. It’s almost as if he’s switching into predator mode.
Before he kills his victims, Alcala takes their picture. Wrapped up in bloody bandages covered in bruises, we see several terrified last moments through Alcala’s lens.
After the show ends, Alcala takes Cheryl out on a date. This part of the film is fictional; in real life, Cheryl felt uncomfortable and said no to the date.
However, in the film, Cheryl agrees to go out for drinks, but the date soon becomes uncomfortable when she makes a joke that bruises Alcala’s ego. He experiences a shift in behavior and his persona changes completely.
He asks the waitress for another round of drinks, but the waitress locks eyes with Cheryl. She shakes her head no and the waitress tells Alcala they just missed the last call.
I like how “Woman of the Hour” highlights the universal language between women, especially when a potentially dangerous man is present. Silent exchanges, looks or gestures that convey discomfort are a survival mechanism.
This film shows several instances of survival instincts in play, with women fighting back and doing whatever they can to escape Alcala.
Cheryl immediately tries to wrap up the date and gives him a fake phone number to leave safely. But she proceeds to have a nail-biting walk to her car as we see Alcala slowly stalk her from behind. He stops her at the door, but she’s saved by a crowd of people walking out of the studio.
At the end of “Women of the Hour,” we learn that Cheryl leaves California and goes on to live a quiet life, settling down with a family.
At first, I felt like something was missing. The storyline felt a little unfinished.
But the end credits reveal that despite reports to law enforcement from survivors and other private citizens for over a decade, Alcala was only convicted of seven murders. Now, authorities estimate the real number to be around 130 victims.
The film’s length felt like an ode to the number of crimes Alcala was tried for compared to the true damage he did. Cut too short, it represents the injustice of the hundreds of other victims that he killed.
“Woman of the Hour” is a reminder of the true dangers hidden in plain sight — the consequences of overlooking male violence and dismissing women’s experiences.
