Sometimes I just don’t get
it. I watch a clunky made-for-TV movie on Netflix, then discover that critics
have liked it (it was rated 91% “fresh” on aggregator site Rotten Tomatoes),
and audiences do too. Maybe the point is that everyone thinks Anna Kendrick is
awfully cute. And I agree. I was won over by her headstrong career gal role in
2009’s Up in the Air, for which she nabbed a Supporting Actress Oscar
nomination. I liked her roles in other films too, and was impressed by her
vocal work as Cinderella in the screen adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods (2014). More recently she
brought her girl-next-door charm to a mystery-thriller, A Simple Favor
She’s done well for herself in Hollywood. Which is why I guess she wanted to take the next step and simultaneously become both a star and a director.
The project she chose was Woman
of the Hour, a real-life crime story distributed by Netflix in 2023. The
poster for the movie certainly makes its point: it features Kendrick in a
pretty 1970s- era floral frock, demurely seated on a big comfy swivel chair.
Behind her looms a shadowy male figure. We can’t see his face, but he’s clearly
up to no good. Kendrick stars as Sheryl,
a pert graduate of a New York drama school, who’s having a hard time making it
in Hollywood. Early on we see her flunk an audition, partly because she refuses
to do nudity. Her agent, whose logic doesn’t make much sense to me, persuades
her that an appearance on a popular TV show of the era, The Dating Game, may
move her career forward.
The show’s premise is that Sheryl must choose one of three unseen young men to accompany her on a romantic weekend. Ignoring the suggestions of the smarmy host, she asks questions that are smart and sassy. Bachelor #1 is basically tongue-tied. Bachelor #2 is trying so hard to be sexy that he comes off as obnoxious. Bachelor #3’s responses are clever, but also show a sensitivity to female needs. Unfortunately, no one has figured out that he’s Rodney Alcala, a serial killer who lures his victims with sweet talk, then rapes and murders them. (When a young woman in the studio audience recognizes him as the slayer of her best friend, no one takes her seriously.)
Because this is a true story, Kendrick and company feel the need to stick to the basic facts. And an important fact is that Sheryl has absolutely nothing to do with the story’s outcome. In the course of a post-taping drink with her chosen bachelor, she becomes uneasy, hands him a fake phone number, and leaves the film. When he’s later apprehended it’s because a gutsy teenage runaway he’s raped in the desert finds a way to escape his clutches and call the cops.
As a longtime teacher of screenwriting, I know the importance of understanding your project. If Kendrick’s Sheryl is the leading character, we’d like to see her somehow trip up the bad guy. If the end of the story belongs to Autumn Best’s plucky teen, shouldn’t she get more screentime? And what about Daniel Zovatto’s scary Rodney? We know from the start that he’s guilty—shouldn’t we have a better sense of what makes him tick?
The idea of a serial killer as a contestant on a dating show certainly has potential. Kendrick’s film looks good, and has its colorful moments. But if we’re supposed to care about a movie’s outcome, it’s urgent that we understand whom we’re dealing with, and why.
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