Zoë Kravitz’ directorial debut is a difficult watch but a necessary one and reminds us why even the most devastating stories need to be told.
When I first saw the trailer for Zoë Kravitz’ directorial debut, Blink Twice, I thought it reminded me of a strange sort of combination of Jordan Peele’s Get Out and Rian Johnson’s Glass Onion with a feminist twist, and that’s an assessment I stand by after I finally got the opportunity to see the movie for myself. However, unlike I try to do with most movies, I did not go in entirely clueless of what was going to happen; this movie seemed to drum up quite a bit of controversy on some of the social media apps I frequent, such as TikTok and X, with some of my most trusted film reviewers talking about how graphic and traumatizing it is.
Of course, this was something I had been a bit afraid of when watching the trailer: the topics would be too explicit, an exercise in trauma rather than horror. It’s a difficult line to toe, but I always thought that it came down to point of view. Who is making the movie, and who are they making it for? I’m sure that this is not true in all cases, but I think you can tell when the people making a movie care both about it and the people watching; that’s what the cause of that stark difference between a three-star-and-a-heart movie like M Night Shyamalan’s recent feature, Trap, and a two-and-a-half-star like Deadpool & Wolverine. Blink Twice comes across to me as a careful, well-made and well-intentioned look into the trauma of sexual exploitation.
This article will contain spoilers for Blink Twice and will discuss sexual violence, so if either of those topics bother you, you should skip this review for now!
Blink Twice follows two women, Frida (Naomi Ackie) and Jess (Alia Shawkat), who find themselves lured to the private island of rich, canceled tech mogul, Slater King (Channing Tatum) under the guise of a luxurious vacation, only to discover that they have become the prey of a powerful group of men who seek to exploit them. To add context right from the beginning, the plot twist of the movie is that, while the women think they are having a good time on the island, they are secretly being raped and assaulted every night by the men on the island and are drugged so that they forget it the coming morning. Frida and the other women have to navigate the horrors of being caught in a situation where you don’t know anyone and can’t escape from men who are bigger, stronger, and more powerful.
The movie’s plot twist brought about the most controversy. I even saw some reviewers describe it as the most traumatizing and violent horror movie that they’ve ever seen. While I respect their opinion, as someone who approached this film cautiously, I found Kravitz’ direction to be impressively balanced. Movies touching upon topics such as sex trafficking and rape cannot in any world be comfortable, and these scenes were highly distressing in a way akin to the devastation and anxiety I felt at the end of Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw The TV Glow or, my personal favorite horror movie, Joel Anderson’s Lake Mungo. While all of these movies deal with highly sensitive and, in some cases, graphic content, none of them felt exploitative to me. Neither they nor Blink Twice indulge in explicit scenes of violence or abuse for shock value but rather imply the horrific realities and consequences of that violence without reveling in it.
That’s not to say that the content in the movie isn’t highly disturbing; it is. But it toes the line between violence to make a point and gratuitous exploitation delicately and expertly. I myself am a big fan of the rape-revenge genre of movie, but even I can acknowledge that a huge issue with a lot of those movies is the way that they seem to revel in trauma. Genre staple I Spit On Your Grave has almost 30 minutes of rape scenes despite only being 90 minutes long. Even more recent genre entries like Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge fight to reclaim the image of the scantily clad woman fighting for revenge against her assaulters, and Promising Young Woman ends on a much more nihilistic and distressing note than Blink Twice without receiving the same backlash. Blink Twice may deal with sensitive content, but it takes no pleasure in it.
In her book Men, Women, and Chain Saws, Carol Clover discusses rape-revenge movies and how a lot of women found solidarity in them despite their graphic content: they are inherently sympathetic to the victim. Even during the scenes of exploitation, the focus is on the horrific nature of the violation: the perpetrator is a villainous, animalistic monster, and the viewer in the audience is meant to feel for the victim and feel joy and catharsis when the perpetrator is faced with the same level of violence turned around on them. I think Blink Twice manages to capture this feeling even without actually showing the violent acts. They are implied in detail, and it is clear and terrifying what is going on; she captures the feeling without needing to explicitly show anything, and at the end of the movie, instead of killing Slater, Frida completely turns the tables on him.
I don’t think this film is one to be taken lightly, but I’m not sure that it needed anything more than the trigger warning at the beginning. As someone who has seen a lot of horror movies in my life, I’ve actually never seen one that had a trigger warning before, so the fact that it was even there clued me in on how distressing the movie itself would be. I understand that it’s a bit of a controversial issue, and arguments can be made that perhaps this movie shouldn’t have had such a mass market appeal in terms of advertising, but I feel like it’s unfair to say that a movie doesn’t deserve to be seen by as many people as possible just because it’s story is less palatable than others. The movie It Ends With Us also came out in August of this year, and I believe that was a far more egregious misuse of marketing: it was advertised as a summer rom-com when it was really a film about domestic violence. Blink Twice, on the other hand, marketed itself as horror from the beginning and gave content warnings before it was shown to anyone, and I’m not sure there’s anything else that it could have and should have done.
In terms of my actual thoughts on the quality of the movie, I thought it was great all around, especially for a directorial debut. I have a great appreciation for horror that can make me feel something, and I’m not ashamed to say that I found myself in tears through a lot of this movie’s third act. At its core, Blink Twice is about power—who has it, how it’s abused, and the cost of reclaiming it. Its portrayal of sexual violence is unflinching but never gratuitous. The focus is not on the violence itself but rather the psychological toll of trauma, survival, and the “pretending” women must do in the meantime, exploring the nitty gritty, dirty aspects of escape that a lot of people even now are afraid to touch. It seems to be a clear representation of the MeToo movement in Hollywood in particular—many of the women who are taken to the island are in some way involved in the Hollywood bubble, whether it be a character like Sarah (Adria Arjona) who had previously starred in an exploitative reality TV show or Jess, who was a broke actor doing auditions while working as a waitress on the side to make ends meet.
The villains in the movie never come across as caricatures either, which makes it all the more chilling and all the more real. The film’s cast of predators ranges from the muscular and charming Slater King, who is portrayed as a gentlemanly and attractive love interest from his first moment on screen, to a goofy, bumbling DJ and ex-TV star, Tom (Haley Joel Osment), to a therapist who loves to talk through his feelings, Rich (Kyle MacLachlan). Many of them are at first glance unassuming or even trustworthy, but they are willing to take advantage of anyone.
The film is driven by its wonderful performances. Naomi Ackie is wonderful as the star and heart of the film. As a character, Frida feels real and lived-in; I loved that we as the audience got to learn small, innocent details from her day-to-day life, such as her interest in animal-themed nails (aNAILmals), and it makes it easy for us as viewers to connect with her. Frida has an innocent charm to her meshed with a sweet sort of desire for romance and a bold streak of bravery, and Ackie does a wonderful job balancing her resilience with her vulnerability. She made any violent scene all the more frightening and distressing with just the terrified look in her eyes, commanding the screen. Adria Arjona is also a clear stand out here. Her character, Sarah, is much more guarded from the beginning, used to competing with other women due to her past in reality TV shows, and throughout the movie, the viewer can see her mask slip from aloofness to reluctant, tentative trust, to full on openness, whether it be misery or rage or anything in between. It’s a very raw and intense portrayal. I saw a Tweet that mentioned starting an Oscar campaign for her for this role, and if that did happen, it would be very well-deserved.
The technical aspects of this movie also warrant praise, with the editing being my favorite. Beyond just being a tool to tell a story, it became a part of the story itself, mirroring the fragmented and disoriented state of our main characters, and it does it in such a stylistic and polished way that you don’t notice that time is being skipped and nights are being glossed over until it’s too late. It leaves the viewer in the exact same position as the women on the island, left with only small clues like a missing stain on a dress to figure out what’s going on. It’s a clever and effective way to pull the viewer into the experience.
It’s also intriguing to watch as the style of the editing changes as the movie moves forward. Scenes drag a little bit longer and we’re thrust into familiar shots and dialogue with a vague sense of deja vu. The music, editing, and cinematography toward the beginning almost reminded me of Anyone But You, a movie where Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell fall in love at a destination wedding at an equally rich and elegant looking house, but by the end, it’s clear horror: Slater King is originally framed as a dreamy love interest and each little bit of eye contact he makes with Frida brings about a beat of romance or lightheartedness, but following the shift, him putting his arms around her is used as a jump scare cue. It’s very interesting and very well-done.
Overall, Blink Twice is not an easy watch, and it’s certainly not for everyone. Even though I thought it was very expertly done and very scary, I can’t even say that I necessarily recommend it. If you do choose to give it a watch, make sure you’re in the right headspace and have the proper support to deal with the weight of the film’s content. Its exploration of power, trauma, and survival is harrowing but also really important. Zoë Kravitz has proven herself a talented filmmaker with a unique voice, and while the film’s subject matter may divide audiences, it’s hard to deny the craftsmanship and thoughtfulness behind it. It is both a triumph and a challenge to the audience, asking them to confront the horrors that women face in a world that often overlooks their suffering.
★★★★☆
8.2 out of 10
Check out Blink Twice in theaters.
No comments:
Post a Comment