‘What Are Girls For?’ – deconstructing gender norms in Kendrick’s neo-western thriller

Anna Kendrick’s directional debut ‘Woman of the Hour’ has taken Netflix by storm, earning a number one spot in the UK not long after its release in October last year. Rotten Tomatoes has been eager to praise it as ‘a powerful examination of the intersection between systemic misogyny and violence’^[1], while Mary E Gates has described it as ‘a slick 70s-set thriller about a serial killer whose reign of terror lasted a decade’^[2].

Zovatto portrays the Mexican American psychopath Rodney Alcala, who is believed to have murdered over 130 women according to the epilogue but was only charged for seven murders. This, in itself, demonstrates Kendrick’s intent to highlight the profound inequities within the American law system – particularly its failure to protect women from violence. Drawing a striking parallel to the Coen Brothers’ ‘No Country for Old Men’(NCFOM), Zovatto embodies ‘the other’ in the same way Bardem is automatically alienated through his race. But in Kendrick’s piece, she makes Alcala come across as harmless, the Costa Rican actor’s gentle features putting his victims at ease. This goes against the traditional western narrative that frames ‘others’ as anti-heroes from the get-go, adding to the suspense that characterizes it as a thriller as well as a new western. Furthermore, Kuperstein’s sprawling wide shots of the desolate landscape in LA mirror those filmed by Deakins at the start of NCFOM, positioning us in allegiance with the isolated targets. Gates deduces in her critique of Zovatto’s character that ‘He is a photographer. He knows the power of his gaze, of his camera’, refencing Laura Mulvey’s theory of the Male Gaze^[3]and inferring that the self-reflexivity of the film – emphasised by Alcala’s occupation and his voyeuristic tendency to ‘look at’ rather than ‘see’ his victims – encourages activity of the spectator, wherein we remember we too are onlookers, making our own private judgements of each woman presented to us through the camera lens. Especially for female spectators, we are reminded of the inescapable grip of the patriarchy on our psyches, allowing us to empathise even more with each character that is harmed by the antagonist. This feature combined with the haunting ambient sounds of distant traffic and birds tweeting also helps create a false sense of security at the opening, attuning us to the tranquil, natural environment, only to then appear sinister on a second watch as we know what is about to happen to Sarah.

As the film continues, we are introduced to protagonist Sheryl, played by Kendrick herself. Objectified by casting directors and coerced in to sleeping with a neighbour out of fear of hurting his feelings, she sets up a dark docudrama centred in actuality. This is solidified on the dating show when host Ed directly advises her ‘not to play so smart’, feeding into the people-pleasing attitude women are accustomed to having. Adding to this sense of authenticity, Amy narrowly escapes death when confronted by Alcala, but it doesn’t appear that the villain is playing God as Chigurh does. The Coen killer determines deaths on the flip of a coin. Meanwhile, Amy’s conviction to survive allows us insight into Alcala’s delicate disposition, her receptivity to his violence stimulating reconciliation between the two. Alcala is a fully fleshed out person, clearly plagued by some sort of trauma that has led him to commit heinous acts against the opposite sex, rather than a one-dimensional, malevolent force with no obvious motive. When Sheryl brazenly asks, ‘What are girls for?’, she is challenging what we think of women in general society, addressing the simplification of feminine existence to being ‘for’ men. To many modern spectators this idea might seem ludicrous: we’ve come so far from that mindset, haven’t we? But this is what the post-feminist era seems to be misunderstanding – ‘feminism’ is not complete, we are still fighting. Though this movie is set in the 70s, it reflects the mere 4% of reported abuse allegations women have made in the US that have actually led to a conviction, based on a 2023 study^[4]. Where the sheriff in NCFOM feels hopeless in his quest for justice, Woman of the Hour places us in the shoes of the restless women, sick for recognition in a climate of moral decay. As Jared Mobarak reflects: ‘This isn’t a police hunt between the law and the lawless. It’s not about a portrait of a hero finally being able to take this monster down (although we also get that anyway). No, it’s about survival in a country where the burden of proof for the murder of a woman is often placed upon her own dead shoulders’^[5].

Ultimately, Kendrick brings the neo-western thriller into postfeminist reality, demanding her audience to see the detrimental impact of gender conditioning on female fatalities.