Woman of the Hour (2024), directed by Anna Kendrick, is a psychological thriller that tells the chilling, true story of “The Dating Game Killer,” Rodney Alcala, a nickname that gained traction because of his appearance on a popular dating game TV show in the 1970s while he was actively committing brutal murders. However, what truly sets Woman of the Hour apart from the spike in dramatized serial killer films and shows such as Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story (2022) and Extremely Wicked Shockingly Vile and Evil (2019), is that the focus is not on the killer, but rather the victims.
While Alcala’s crimes are central to the plot, Kendrick’s film takes a radically different approach by centering around an actress, Sheryl (Anna Kendrick), participating on “The Dating Game” with repeated cuts to Rodney Alcala’s (Daniel Zovatto) past and future murders within the time frame to his final arrest. Something that is immediately noticeable is the film doesn’t glorify or sensationalize any of Alcala’s cruel work, compared to the majority of serial killer films that want to increase the plot and audiences’ disgust through diabolical dramatizations of specifically showing the gore, blood, and violence. And in that sense, the genre is critical to understanding how the film reframes the traditional thriller. By focusing on the women whose lives were destroyed by his violence, Kendrick reshapes the genre into a powerful feminist narrative.
Serial killer films, particularly those about infamous figures like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy, usually center around the male perpetrators. These films often explore the psyche of the killer, attempting to explain the reasons behind their actions or romanticize their twisted charm. In contrast, Woman of the Hour takes a sharp departure from this tradition and doesn’t delve into Alcala’s motivations or background. Kendrick uses the genre to provoke the audience to consider the societal issues that allow such violence to go unchecked, instead of giving the killer a platform. This fear—the uncertainty of trying to guess when or how the danger will escalate through the subtlety of facial and physical reactions—is the beating heart of the film, and absolutely a reality for many women. Â
There is a specific sequence of scenes that truly stuck out to me when watching this film and that is when Kendrick decided to include a storyline that did not occur in the real telling, yet it genuinely added so much to the common experiences women deal with. As a woman, I was on the edge of my seat, nauseous, after Sheryl picked Alcala as mystery man #3 on the show, and he insisted that they go on a date rather than wait. They appeared to be having a great time until Sheryl felt uncomfortable by Alcala’s actions, and that was further heightened when he encouraged the bartender to give them another round. Sheryl’s eyes widened slightly and she shook her head, and the waitress immediately understood, giving an excuse as to why she couldn’t serve them. My three friends and I all sighed collectively as Alcala’s back was turned, so he didn’t see the encounter. It was still utterly terrifying yet comforting to see the woman do the best she could to help. Â
This isn’t where the fear on my end stops because Alcala follows her into the parking lot and then asks her to repeat the number she had written down on the napkin. When he finds out that she gave him a fake number, the scene is completely silent, the camera going immensely wide to show there is nothing: nobody is around and her car is too far away. He mutters, “Then you’d get your f*cking head bashed in.” The only thing that can be heard is their heavy breathing, stepping of shoes, and irritating buzz of the street lamps. This is all an intentional display done by Kendrick. The wide shot continues as she hurriedly walks away from Alcala, barely reaching the left side of the frame whilst he casually strides behind her, covered in the darkness, but still incredibly present. The tension builds in a way that feels familiar to many women, who have experienced moments where a situation seems fine one moment and suddenly becomes threatening the next. The camera work in the scene is designed to mimic the heightened awareness women often feel when they sense danger.Â
This scene, where Sheryl has to outsmart Alcala to protect herself, is not just about survival in the moment; it speaks to the larger reality that women’s lives are often governed by this constant need to assess and navigate danger, even in seemingly safe spaces. In a movie like this, there is no need to show a woman running as if they were in Scream because this experience is almost always subtle and quiet, before violent and desperate.Â
And speaking of silence, this is something that was completely subdued and underplayed throughout the movie, to the point where I did not recognize it until the very end and further upon my rewatchings: There is no music. Kendrick decided that the absence of music was something that did not need to be addressed because it allowed the tension to build naturally, having the viewer focus more so on the raw emotion and actions of the characters than to be told what was happening. The only time there is music is when “The Dating Game” is being broadcasted live. The rest of the sound that is played in the background of scenes is the layering of women’s screams to silence at the very end of the film, which was intentional. The lack of music in the majority of the film serves to amplify the emotional intensity of these moments, and in violent scenes, creates a haunting silence that allows the viewer to focus entirely on the characters’ emotional states, the fear in their eyes, and the discomfort in their bodies.
One of my favorite things about this movie is the utter lack of sound during brutal scenes. There is a very strong amount of cutting between angles to specifically focus on the women rather than the killer as they die. Any time that we see the killer harming women, it is from a very distant shot, usually as if we, the audience, are an object, a mere fly on the wall. From the very first kill, we are shot into the car that is at the bottom of the hill. The killer is strangling the women on the top of the mountain, no terror inducing music, just the utter silence (and maybe ear ringing?). When we are brought back in closely, we are placed right beside the victim, only the killer’s hands are present as we watch her struggle. The same can be said about the skylight of another victim’s apartment. We watch, never seeing the killer’s face as he brutally chokes her and hits her across the head. In another instance, a young teen is standing, eyes shut and neck completely exposed as the sun burns back at her. There is a cut after the killer wraps an object around her neck, suffocating her. Another cut to the victim waking up, we still don’t see the killer’s face as he cries into the dirt. This is all completely intentional. The main theme is not about a man and who he is, how he kills, why he kills, and why he chooses them, but about the women and their fear.Â
I think that this movie is worth watching, not just for the beautiful cinematography or the in-depth details, but because every woman should watch a movie that validates women’s experiences in a multitude of ways.Â