We are back in 2022 clean-up mode and the Wheel of Destiny has gone around to Women Talking. Based on real events, Women Talking strips away all unnecessary distractions and roots itself in an almost collective meditation of universal ideas about womanhood across generations. This film reminds me why I want a Best Ensemble Performance award at the Oscars.
Sort of based on a true story, Sarah Polley’s film is an adaptation of Miriam Toews’ 2018 novel of the same name which is based on the real-life events of a Mennonite colony in Bolivia where the men were arrested for repeatedly drugging and raping the women and girls in the community. The story imagines a secret meeting of the collective’s women as they try to reconcile their faith given the crimes committed against them and look for a way forward that may or may not include forgiveness.
Polley’s visual aesthetic for this cinematic world is fairly bleak and understandably so considering the subject matter is rape and oppression. It’s a creative choice that also gave the film a timeless quality. I didn’t do my homework before going into it at the beginning of the year so I had no idea when this story was set until a pick-up truck comes down the road blasting a message about the 2010 census over a loudspeaker. I don’t think Polley was trying to hide anything as a means of deception, but rather as a mechanism to show that whether it was 1810, 1910, or 2010, this kind of behavior has been going on, mostly unpunished and/or unspoken, for a long time.
I talk about tone quite a bit because it’s what I would equate to the flavor of the film, so bear with me through this metaphor. You wouldn’t want to order a dessert, see a slice of cake, but realize it was baked with salt instead of sugar. That’s why it’s essential to know the kind of story you are telling and make sure the audience is on the same page, or else it’s not going to work. The screenplay by Polley and Toews handles that remarkably well given the nature of the story.
Yes, this is a story about habitual rape and sexual violence that has been taking place for a couple of generations at least and we see plenty of emotions you would expect stemming from that: anger, rage, and denial. However, that is just a baseline and there is much more complexity woven into it through a variety of perspectives, thanks to some fantastic character writing. Hildur Guðnadóttir put together some great original music together for this as well that really helps guide the emotional timbre of the story. To use the flavor metaphor, this one has a much more robust flavor profile than you might expect when sitting down with the dish.
I mentioned at the outset that this is the kind of film that makes me wish there was a Best Ensemble Performance award at the Oscars. I started including that category in my end-of-year awards because there are so many great collaborative efforts that don’t quite get the credit they deserve in that regard. The Screen Actors Guild does have an award for ensembles (winner yet to be determined) but, for example, none of these actresses was nominated in either the lead or supporting performance categories even though this was some of the best acting on film in 2022.
The film doesn’t have a conventional lead which probably made awards campaigns difficult but it is also reflective of the women as one unit rather than competing entities and I love the symbolism of that. However, the meat and potatoes of the three most prominent roles fall into the extremely capable hands of Rooney Mara, Jessie Buckley, and Claire Foy.
All three of them are proven leading ladies and one of the things I love the most is how they share the responsibility here. The narrative is structured so that each of them champions one ideological stance. Foy plays Salome and she is pissed. The fire in her eyes is undeniable. There is no place in the heart for forgiveness and she is willing to die fighting to protect her children. Buckley’s Mariche is trapped in denial despite the knowledge. So conditioned by the abuse of her husband that she feels incredible guilt for just entertaining the conversation and Buckley’s venom is misdirected. Then there is Mara who plays Ona with a kind of optimism that is offputting to some of the others. Mara has a calming presence which benefits her character’s desire to seek a peaceful but beneficial solution. Each of them hit their respective notes with incredible precision and it’s exceedingly easy to place yourself in any of their shoes at a given moment.
Ben Whishaw is great too as really the only male role, August, a disgraced community exile who was forced to return to the community where he serves as a teacher. He feels shame for his history and is also hopelessly in love with Ona so he volunteers to help the women take notes during their discussions. Whishaw’s performance is defined by its meekness and serves as a stark contrast to the men who have been arrested for their transgressions.
We are also treated to a great turn by Judith Ivey as Agata, one of the senior members of the community who has been subjugated to these abuses for a long time without ever having the power to do anything about it. That same burden falls on the shoulders of characters played by Sheila McCarthy and Frances McDormand who each handle their experiences and their fears much differently.
I could probably go on for quite some time talking about the variety of roles across age groups and how those particular details manifest, like two of the younger girls who are almost bound at the hip during the discussions and literally join their hair together into a single braid. It’s a poetic moment that unites them even though it wasn’t a conscious act of symbolism by the characters, it was just how they managed to digest a lot of conversation that was decidedly more adult. The little details like that really made for a more powerful narrative and Polley did a great job letting them speak for themselves.
This was one that continued to grow on me after I left the theater, not just because of the themes but because of how they are presented. A lot of filmmakers would be very heavy-handed in their delivery but Polley acknowledged that there wasn’t necessarily one right answer to the question being raised and respected that the audience for this film was going to be able to make up their own minds. It is something we need more of and Sarah Polley’s name should have been in the conversation for Best Director.
Recommendation: See it for the adept nature of its narrative and how it handles some tough questions, and for the amazing collection of performances that helped shape it!
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