How 'Woman of the Hour' looks at true crime differently

Plus: A bee-nado, an epic liar, and a terrific horror sequel

View this email online by Linda Holmes Welcome! It was the week when a new concept album told an old story. It was the week when a veteran of musicals took her last bow. And it was the week when they decided to make a movie about something that could never be a movie. Let's get to it. A different look at crime in Woman of the Hour In a lot of true crime stories, no one is treated as more interesting than the criminal at the center. Mildly interesting are the police, the journalists, and the family involved. But not the person who got hurt, let alone the people who just barely didn't get hurt. Anna Kendrick in Woman of the Hour. Leah Gallo/Netflix In the new Netflix film Woman of the Hour, however, there's little interest in the thinking or the life of real-life convicted serial killer Rodney Alcala. Alcala appeared on The Dating Game in 1978, where he won a date with aspiring actress Cheryl Bradshaw. But once she met him, Bradshaw got the creeps. She refused to go out with him. Alcala was later convicted of murders committed both before and after the show. Woman of the Hour stars Anna Kendrick as Sheryl (the spelling is changed, perhaps to underscore that this is a loose interpretation of the real story beyond those basics; the real Bradshaw has remained largely private). Kendrick also directed the movie, her feature debut, from a script by Ian McDonald. This Sheryl is frustrated by her stalled acting career, and particularly by the open lack of respect she's shown at auditions where men talk to each other about her appearance and her worth as if she weren't there. She's about to bail on Los Angeles altogether when her agent gives her news: There's a job. As a bachelorette on The Dating Game. Hesitantly, Sheryl decides to do it. Interspersed with Sheryl's story is that of Alcala, played by Daniel Zovatto, as he 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. He exists here as a menace, as a threat that cannot be understood – it simply has to be navigated. The film is not interested at all in examining what makes a killer do what he does, as if there is something to unlock that will make it seem reasonable to remove a woman's pantyhose, wrap them around her neck, and squeeze until she's dead. Instead, it is interested in the women, and in the social forces that facilitate crimes like these – particularly the ones that allow them to continue even after they could be stopped. Does misogyny motivate violence against women? Of course. Does it enable violence against women in a practical sense by closing off their paths to safety? In this story, yes. Sheryl's discomfort from the minute she arrives at the studio goes unnoticed by the callous host (Tony Hale) and just about everyone else – except the woman doing her makeup, who puffs powder onto her face and winkingly assures her it's OK to do whatever she wants, because she owes the show nothing. It's the first affirmation she's had that she does not need to be trapped by the circumstances. Elsewhere, we meet Laura (Nicolette Robinson), a young woman who attends the Dating Game taping with her boyfriend, recognizes Alcala as the man who brutalized a friend of hers, and tries to get someone to pay attention. Laura's certainty that Alcala is the man who killed her friend is treated either patronizingly (by her boyfriend) or cruelly (by a security guard at the studio). The police give her the runaround. And even after Sheryl becomes convinced that Alcala is dangerous while sharing a drink with him after the taping, she has a difficult time getting herself to safety. What Kendrick plays so well here is the impossible calculus that can confront a woman (or any person) in her position when she's frightened by a man (or any person). Do you ignore the hairs that stand up on the back of your neck, because you might be imagining it? Do you pacify him, keep him calm, just try to be nice until you can run? Or do you turn, steel yourself, and tell him to leave you the [heck] alone? When are the risks of being gentle greater than the risks of screaming? Because the film jumps around in time through Alcala's crimes, we see not only Sheryl's efforts to make herself safe, but also the efforts of a young runaway (Autumn Best) who does decide to get in his car, and thus has even fewer options. Kendrick's direction effectively builds the sense of dread that surrounds this man who is not particularly special, other than that he kills women. There are times when killers – perhaps Ted Bundy is the best example – are recreated on film as if they have a special aura, something mysterious that gives them power over others. Rodney Alcala, in this story, is just a murderer, and the script maintains that being a murderer does not, in and of itself, make you interesting. And he doesn't keep wiggling out of trouble because he's brilliant. He keeps wiggling out of trouble largely because the society he lives in is, in many ways, on his side. And contrary to the underpinnings of many crime shows and films, the police do not act with great urgency every time a woman is brutalized. If this version of Rodney has a skill, it's weaponizing his victims' desire to be polite and friendly, and getting them to miss the last real chance they have to get away. There's a very well done shot near the end of the film in which Sheryl walks across a parking lot, the sounds of her shoes clacking on the pavement. If you have taken that walk, and many of you have, you will recognize it immediately. The whole film, really, is about that walk – and about the mix of luck, choices and a functioning society that might help you take it soon enough to save your life. Newsletter continues after sponsor message We Recommend Election seasons are anxious for many of us. My most recent escape from such things is the highly absurd and very entertaining first-responder series 9-1-1, which you can stream on Hulu. This season began with a three-parter that was somehow about both a tornado made of bees and an out-of-control plane, because that's just how this show is. Highly recommended. I thought I knew the story of Elisabeth Finch, the Grey's Anatomy writer who pretended – for years! – to have cancer while she wrote for the medical drama. But after watching the new docuseries Anatomy of Lies, I was gobsmacked to find that it was much, much worse and much, much stranger than I had thought. This was not somebody doing the equivalent of padding her resume with life experience. It was something far more damaging. (The series is based on reporting in Vanity Fair.) I'm a little disappointed that my prized Philadelphia Phillies didn't go further into the postseason this year, but for me, the regular season is a lot more important. I'd rather watch a team be good for months than a couple of weeks. All this to say: Netflix has a short documentary called The Turnaround, which tells the story of how Phillies shortstop Trea Turner, who had been given a huge contract, had a very, very bad beginning of the 2023 season. And then how a fan, for reasons of his own, helped lead the hometown crowd in bringing Turner back to life. It's genuinely a great, great story, and it really happened. People will tell you Philadelphia fans are brutal; they are also beautiful. The doc is only about 20 minutes long, and even if you don't follow baseball, you might really enjoy it. (Maybe not as much as I did.) Listen to the Podcast Sponsor-Free Support your favorite pop culture junkies AND listen without sponsor interruptions with a subscription to Pop Culture Happy Hour+! Learn more and sign up at plus.npr.org/happy. Learn More What We Did This Week Naomi Scott in Smile 2, which the PCHH crew called "a superior horror sequel." Paramount Pictures I talked to Aisha and Bilal Qureshi about Apple TV+'s new series Disclaimer, starring Cate Blanchett and Kevin Kline. We liked it a lot. Like it or not, it's spooky season, so we encored our episode about what scared us as kids. Aisha and I spoke to Wailin Wong about We Live In Time, a love story (and a cancer story) that works in some ways better than others. And Stephen, Jordan Crucchiola and Reanna Cruz all really liked Smile 2, which has jump scares plus a good story and pop bangers. Stephen's coverage of the pop charts brought him around this week, inevitably, to Coldplay. And Glen talked about folk horror on Weekend Edition. What's Making Us Happy Every week on the show, we talk about some other things out in the world that have been giving us joy lately. Here they are: Jordan Crucchiola: Ariana Grande on SNL Reanna Cruz: Jimmy Buffett’s album A1A Stephen Thompson: Wicked Little Letters Listen to your local NPR station. Visit NPR.org to hear live radio from Central Florida Public Media (edit station). Subscribe to Pop Culture Happy Hour+. Your support helps make our show possible and unlocks access to our sponsor-free episodes. What do you think of today's email? We'd love to hear your thoughts, questions and feedback: pchh@npr.org Enjoying this newsletter? Forward to a friend! They can sign up here. Looking for more great content? Check out all of our newsletter offerings — including Music, Books, Daily News and more! You received this message because you're subscribed to Pop Culture Happy Hour emails. This email was sent by National Public Radio, Inc., 1111 North Capitol Street NE, Washington, DC 20002 Unsubscribe  |  Privacy Policy