“Woman of the Hour” Exposes the Dangers of the Dating Game
It’s hard out there for single women on the dating scene. Not only do we have to worry about unrealistic beauty standards and where to meet interesting men, there’s a non-zero chance that the charming guy who takes us to dinner will turn out to be a serial killer. We’re conditioned to protect ourselves by sharing locations, watching our drinks, and never going home with a guy before doing an amateur background check. We’re also trained to look out for our friends. Girl code developed in part to help us navigate a world full of men who view us as objects who exist to soothe or inflate their fragile egos. It’s tricky now, but in the seventies, it was downright dangerous. With no location trackers or cell phones promising help at the ready, dating women were much more vulnerable. That’s the world we see in Woman of the Hour, a true crime thriller following literal lady killer Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto), a sexual predator and sadistic murderer who managed to find himself on national TV. Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut remixes this disturbing story to highlight the dangers women face when playing the dating game in real life.
Sheryl (Kendrick) is a frustrated actress trying to make it in LA. Fed up with demeaning auditions and cruel casting agents, she’s planning to leave town when her agent books an appearance on The Dating Game. This trite show features a blushing bachelorette presented with three hidden suitors. Based on answers to her pre-written questions, she must choose one to accompany her on a luxurious date. Sheryl’s bachelor #3 immediately stands out, especially when compared with the other two candidates. A daredevil photographer named Rodney Alcala wins her over with a combination of charming intelligence and well-spoken respect. But during the taping, Laura (Nicolette Robinson) recognizes him while sitting in the studio audience. The horrified girl is sure that Alcala is the man last seen with her friend the night before she was brutally murdered. Laura reports her suspicions to the show’s security guard who feigns concern before blowing her off. This story unfolds alongside several upsetting vignettes in which this male monster stalks and murders a series of women.
Ian McDonald’s script loosely adapts this true story, condensing timelines and altering details. The real Rodney Alcala was eventually convicted of seven murders in New York and California. Police have also conclusively linked him to a murder in Wyoming and several assaults. We’ll never know how many lives Alcala took, but the total is believed to be much higher than eight. The true story is a long and frustrating tale filled with legal battles and half-hearted investigations through which Alcala, a known sexual predator, shuffled around the US murdering women and girls while law enforcement continually failed to put him away. McDonald faithfully depicts some of his crimes—given what little information we have—while omitting some attacks and hinting at others. Likewise, information about the women who tried to stop him has altered to streamline the narrative. With a heavy hand, Kendrick eschews chronicling each devastating incident, instead weaving together a complex string of assaults while indicting the callous system that allowed Alcala to take so many young lives.
Kendrick also stars as the frustrated Sheryl who spends the film dodging manipulative and outright dangerous men. We meet the intelligent actress mid-audition as two male casting agents openly discuss her from across a small table. Later, her neighbor talks his way into her apartment then gives her the cold shoulder when she rejects his advance. We cut to Sheryl lying next to him in bed the next morning, clearly regretting their one night stand and the reluctant consent she felt compelled to give. While preparing to film the show, host Ed (Tony Hale) essentially asks her to smile and look pretty while delivering a series of inane questions designed to produce good TV. They’ve done nothing to screen the bachelors cast on the show and will eventually deliver her into the arms of a killer. With the cameras rolling, Sheryl goes rogue and writes her own witty questions, leading Ed to demand she be kicked off the set. It’s one frustrating interaction after another, and all before she goes on a date with the monster.
Sheryl’s story plays out alongside several women unlucky enough to meet Rodney when the cameras aren’t rolling. One by one, he manipulates them before unleashing a series of torturous attacks. Kendrick shies away from revealing the true brutality of these murders, focusing more on the way Alcala was able to work his way into their lives. Though Kendrick gets the showier role—openly questioning the game show’s reductive ideology—Robinson effectively pulls at our heartstrings. We feel her pain as she slowly realizes that no one cares about her best friend’s murder and the police have barely bothered to keep track of her report. But it’s Autumn Best as teenage runaway Amy who steals the show. This intrepid young woman comes face to face with a deadlier version of the televised game and must deliver the performance of her life in order to survive.
Kendrick uses the game show format to present her central thesis, revealing ignorance and misogyny in Sheryl’s suitors—each representing a classic male archetype. Her question, “what are girls for,” exposes not only the bachelor’s true motivations, but the dehumanization at the heart of our patriarchal system. However, it’s the show’s makeup artist who cuts to the heart of what each bachelorette truly wants to know: which man won’t hurt me? This devastating question ties the film together as we compare the way each male character has somehow used and objectified the film’s female cast.
She real Sheryl Bradshaw immediately dismissed her chosen bachelor, claiming he made her feel creepy. Kendrick’s version of this insightful young woman agrees to impromptu drinks after the show, but quickly picks up the same sinister vibes. A harrowing—and all too familiar—scene follows her attempt to politely escape, but Sheryl is aided by a helpful waitress who picks up her sly SOS. This uplifting moment serves as a counterpoint to the story’s egregious disappointments. Kendrick posits that the world is filled with masculine predators and we must support each other if we want to survive.
Woman of the Hour is admittedly a sanitized version of a gut-wrenching story. But Kendrick’s editorial depiction of the Dating Game Killer reveals a fundamental truth. Each heteronormative relationship, both onscreen and off, begins with the woman assessing whether the man can be trusted and dating in a patriarchal world puts women in danger. Yes, it’s true that not all men have ill intent, but the system is designed to dismiss women’s concerns while prioritizing men’s pleasure and we will only survive by playing the game.
Jenn Adams is a writer, podcaster, and film critic from Nashville, TN. Find her social media nonsense @jennferatu.