This time a true crime story that isn’t about the murderer

In many true crime stories, no one is portrayed as more interesting than the criminal at the center. The police, the journalists and the families involved are quite interesting. But not the person who was hurt, let alone the people who were barely hurt.

In the new Netflix film Woman of the hourHowever, there is little interest in the thought or life of real-life convicted serial killer Rodney Alcala. Alcala was released on The dating game In 1978, he won a date with aspiring actress Cheryl Bradshaw. But when she met him, Bradshaw got it the horrors. She refused to go out with him. Alcala was later convicted of murders committed both before and after the show.

Woman of the hour It stars Anna Kendrick as Sheryl (the spelling has been changed, perhaps to emphasize that this is a loose interpretation of the true story that goes beyond these basics; the real Bradshaw has remained largely private). Kendrick also directed the film, her feature film debut, from a screenplay by Ian McDonald. This Sheryl is frustrated with her stalled acting career and especially with the blatant lack of respect she shows at auditions, where men talk to each other about her looks and worth as if she wasn’t there. She’s about to get out of Los Angeles altogether when her agent breaks the news: There’s a job. As a bachelorette The dating game. Hesitantly, Sheryl decides to do it.

Embedded in Sheryl’s story is that of Alcala, played by Daniel Zovatto, who lures women into vulnerable positions and then strangles them. If he has reasons, we don’t know them. If he has a past, we don’t see it. It exists here as a threat, a threat that cannot be understood – it simply has to be dealt with.

The film isn’t at all interested in exploring what drives a murderer to do what he does, as if there’s something to be deciphered that makes taking a woman’s pantyhose off, tying them around her neck, seem reasonable Wrap and squeeze until she is dead. Instead, it’s interested in the women and the social forces that make crimes like these possible – particularly those that allow them to continue even when they could be stopped. Does misogyny motivate violence against women? Naturally. Does it enable violence against women in a practical sense by blocking their path to safety? In this story, yes.

Sheryl’s discomfort from the moment she arrives at the studio goes unnoticed by the callous host (Tony Hale) and almost everyone else – except the woman who does her makeup, who powders her face and reassures her with a wink that it is It’s okay to do whatever she wants because she doesn’t owe the show anything. It’s the first confirmation that she doesn’t have to let circumstances hold her captive. Elsewhere, we meet Laura (Nicolette Robinson), a young woman who visits dating game While recording with her boyfriend, she realizes that Alcala is the man who abused a friend of hers and tries to get someone to notice him. Laura’s certainty that Alcala is the man who killed her friend is treated either condescendingly (by her boyfriend) or cruelly (by a security guard at the studio). The police outsmart them. And even after Sheryl becomes convinced that Alcala is dangerous while having a drink with him after the taping, she finds it difficult to get to safety.

What Kendrick plays so well here is the impossible calculus a woman (or any other person) in her position can face when she’s afraid of a man (or any other person). Do you ignore the hairs standing on the back of your neck because maybe you’re just imagining it? Reassure him, keep him calm, just try Pretty until you can walk? Or do you turn around, brace yourself and tell him to leave you [heck] alone? When is the risk of being gentle greater than the risk of screaming? As the film jumps back in time through Alcala’s crimes, we not only see Sheryl’s efforts to get to safety, but also the efforts of a young runaway (Autumn Best). does decides to get in his car, leaving him with even fewer options.

Kendrick’s direction effectively reinforces the sense of fear surrounding this man, who is nothing special aside from the fact that he kills women. There are times when murderers – perhaps Ted Bundy is the best example – are recreated in film as if they had a special aura, something mysterious this gives them power over others. Rodney Alcala is just a murderer in this story, and the script says that being a murderer doesn’t inherently make you interesting. And he doesn’t constantly wriggle his way out of trouble because he’s brilliant. He keeps escaping trouble, mostly because the society he lives in is on his side in many ways. And contrary to what many crime shows and films claim, the police do not intervene with great urgency every time a woman is abused. If this version of Rodney has a skill, it is weaponizing his victims’ desire to be polite and kind, causing them to miss the last real chance they have to escape .

There is a very well done shot towards the end of the film where Sheryl is walking through a parking lot and hears the clatter of her shoes on the sidewalk. If you have taken this walk, and many of you have, you will recognize it immediately. The whole film is actually about that walk – and the mix of luck, choices and a functioning society that might help you take it early enough to save your life.

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