Relevance is not something that can be consciously manufactured. Something either has relevance, or it does not. That does not stop folks from straining toward relevance, and few things are more awkward than watching someone failing to achieve it. Think about the Hillary Clinton campaign from 2016, when “Fight Song” became a failed battle cry and Clinton said, “Pokemon Go to the polls.” Women Talking, the new film from Sarah Polley, is like watching Clinton say “Pokemon Go to the polls” for almost two hours. It tries so hard to be relevant that the dialogue sounds like smarmy #MeToo posts you might find on Instagram. Polley assembled an impressive cast, many of whom turn in forceful performances, and yet Polley fails them, to say nothing of the questionable aesthetic choices. It is rare for a major release to look this terrible.
Except for handful of scenes and voice-overs that help establish context, Polley’s adaptation of the novel by Miriam Toews takes the form of 12 Angry Men. Most of the dialogue unfolds in the upper floor of a barn, one where Mennonite women discuss justice and forgiveness. At first, there is the suggestion we are watching a period film. Ona (Rooney Mara), Mariche (Jessie Buckley), and the others are wearing unadorned, modest clothing that shields their bodies and hair. As the film continues, however, we realize Women Talking is set in the present, and these women belong to a cult that is virtually cut off from modernity.
None of the women can read. But the authorities recently apprehended the men of their colony, who used the pretext of religious fundamentalism to brutalize and rape these women. While these perpetrators are under arrest, these women have three choices (as they see it): they can stay on the farm, they can fight, or they can leave.
Virtually all the dialogue, each awkward line, is meant to be instructive. Women Talking is didactic to a fault, the art-house equivalent of an after school special. At one point, Ona has a side conversation with August (Ben Whisaw), the lone man of the group, who is there only to take the minutes. She asks him, “But if your entire life you truly felt it didn’t matter what you thought, how would that make you feel?” Sure, Ona is addressing another character in the film, and yet Mara’s delivery – coupled with Polley’s direction – firmly suggests she is addressing the audience. In scene after scene, we are asked to put ourselves in this situation, to ask ourselves what we might think or feel, an exercise that robs the characters of their agency.
Through sheer force of will, some of the performers rise above the exercise. Claire Foy is memorable as Salome, who has little interest in forgiveness and would rather punish the men for their crimes, while Jessie Buckley plays Mariche, whose feelings on the whole endeavor are complicated because she happens to pregnant from a perpetrator’s assault. Still, even the well-acted moments give the suggestion we are obligated to care about the film, rather than have it involve us.
The visual choices of Women Talking only exacerbate the faults of Polley’s screenplay. Together with cinematographer Luc Montpellier, Polley drains the film of color, almost to the point of monochrome. You can see faint hues, particularly in browns and greens, as if the absence of color signals added significance. The cumulative effect is a flat appearance, a kind of aesthetic that you might find in a film school project. Perhaps Polley meant to suggest a timeless quality, or a lack of place, since the characters are out of step with modernity. Actual black and white photography could have achieved that, however, without the distraction of unintentional ugliness. The recent Will Smith vehicle Emancipation strived for the same effect, also to its detriment, and yet that revenge thriller does not enjoy the near-universal praise Polley’s film currently receives.
Part of my disappointment with this whole endeavor is my affection for Polley as a filmmaker. Away from Her is one of the strongest debuts in film history, to say nothing of the empathy with Stories We Tell and Take This Waltz. In other words, Polley’s latest is a major miscalculation, a kind of tedious pandering that bolsters the ego of podcast-loving, NPR tote bag audiences who would already deign to buy a ticket. She Said handles a topic adjacent to this film, but at least it has the drama of a procedural to add some heft to the material. Almost everything in Women Talking is an educational exercise, despite the jury deliberation framework, except the audience has no say in what they think. Polley has made up her mind for us.
Photo courtesy of United Artists Releasing
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