Anna Kendrick's 'Woman of the Hour' sure to stand test of time

Anna Kendrick steps behind the camera for the first time in "Woman of the Hour," a harrowing serial killer thriller based on the true story of Rodney Alcala, a photographer-turned-murderer who appeared on a 1970s dating show while actively committing heinous crimes.

Kendrick's directorial debut shines by prioritizing the perspectives of women navigating life-or-death encounters, offering a poignant exploration of fear, misogyny and survival. 

The film opens in 1977 with Alcala (Daniel Zovatto) manipulating one of his victims during a photo session. The woman, initially vulnerable and trusting, becomes the target of Alcala's twisted violence as his facade of charm gives way to his chilling brutality. This unnerving sequence sets the tone for the film, showcasing Alcala's disturbing transformation and making it clear what kind of predator the audience will contend with.

From here, Kendrick divides the narrative into four interconnected threads. The first follows Sheryl Bradshaw (Kendrick), an aspiring actress who unwittingly chooses Alcala as her date on "The Dating Game." Another narrative introduces Laura (Nicolette Robinson), who recognizes Alcala on the show as the man who murdered her friend. The third focuses on Amy (Autumn Best), a teenage runaway lured into danger by Alcala's deceptions. The final thread centers on Alcala himself, whose calculated cruelty ties the narratives together. 

Sheryl's storyline is perhaps the film's emotional anchor. When Bradshaw lands a spot on "The Dating Game", she's equally unsure and optimistic about using the show to gain exposure in Hollywood. The dating show's format involves the bachelorette asking questions to three hidden contestants, and Alcala's confident, seemingly progressive answer to "What are girls for?" — "I guess I'd have to say that's up to the girl" — wins Bradshaw over. 

But her excitement quickly shifts to unease when Alcala invites her for a drink after filming. The once-charming demeanor he displayed on television gives way to a cold, predator's presence. In a tense restaurant scene, Alcala's probing questions and dismissive attitude toward her humor make Bradshaw increasingly uncomfortable. When he asks if she feels "seen," her response — "I feel looked at" — is a stark reflection of the objectification many women endure. 

This tension culminates in a heart-pounding sequence in an empty parking lot, where Bradshaw narrowly escapes after Alcala discovers she gave him a fake phone number. The camera lingers on her fear as she walks to her car, each moment dripping with suspense. Ultimately, Bradshaw's story concludes with her abandoning her acting dreams and retreating to a private life — a haunting testament to the sacrifices women feel obligated to make for safety. 

Laura's narrative, though quieter, is equally impactful. As an audience member on the dating show, she recognizes Alcala as her friend's killer. Her attempts to alert the authorities are met with indifference, highlighting the systemic sexism and dismissal of women's concerns in the 70s. Robinson's performance captures the frustration of being ignored in the face of clear danger, a theme that resonates deeply throughout the film. 

Meanwhile, Amy's storyline introduces a more visceral confrontation with Alcala. As a runaway teenager, she's lured by his charms and compliments. The desert setting becomes a battleground for survival as she endures his assault but cleverly plays along to escape. Amy's eventual decision to report Alcala to the police leads to his capture, marking a rare moment of triumph in an otherwise bleak story. 

Kendrick creates a subtle but pointed commentary on sexism and misogyny in every aspect of the film. In Bradshaw's opening scene, her acting talent and the casting director focus on her body over anything else. Similarly, her neighbor Terry (Pete Holmes) makes an unwanted advance, leaving her to be cautious not to escalate the situation by rejecting him. These moments demonstrate how deeply ingrained societal pressures force women into constant performances of "niceness" to ensure their safety. 

This recurring theme is particularly evident in Bradshaw and Amy's experiences. Both women must mask their discomfort and fear with politeness to survive their encounters with Alcala. Kendricks' careful direction ensures that these moments are met with realism, allowing the audience to feel the weight of their terror without exploiting their trauma. 

Unlike many films in the genre, "Woman of the Hour" takes the focus away from violence to enter the emotional and psychological experiences of its characters. Kendrick directs the perspectives in such a way that the audience is placed firmly into the victims' mindsets and emotions, capturing their fear and unsettlement. The result is a film that feels raw and disturbing but never sensationalized. 

Kendrick's decision to balance multiple narratives may invite critique, as some narratives feel more fleshed out than others. However, this structure effectively highlights the far-reaching impact of Alcala's crimes and provides voices for his victims. From Laura's grief and frustration to Amy's courage and Bradshaw's barely averted tragedy, each storyline adds depth to the overarching theme of survival in the face of systemic indifference and male violence. 

Kendrick's directorial choices have cultivated a film that surpasses a typical true-crime thriller. Her focus on fear — rather than violence — makes the film an empathetic journey of the lengths women go to for survival. The decision to donate all proceeds from the project to charity only solidifies Kendrick's commitment to honoring the victims of sexual violence.

While the narrative structure might not align perfectly, the emotional resonance and cohesion of "Woman of the Hour" make it a standout debut. Kendrick spotlights the devastating reality of living in constant fear while offering a beacon of hope through moments of resilience and bravery. It's a chilling, thought-provoking film that marks the beginning of what promises to be a remarkable directing career for Anna Kendrick.