Alice, Darling (2023)

Score: 4 / 5

We've known for some time now that Anna Kendrick is a fabulously talented dramatic actress when she chooses to take on those roles, but her performance in Alice, Darling completely blew me away. Having no idea of the plot or themes of the film, I went in blindly, and immediately latched on to Kendrick's leading role, which the film uses as its focal point almost religiously. We're with her in almost every moment, breathing with her as she navigates the world in notably curious, cagey ways. She's deeply internalized and introverted, pasting a smile on when it's clear there's some dark thoughts swirling under the surface. She gets a little too obsessed with the story of a local missing girl. She dismisses her friends and lies to her boyfriend in increasingly bizarre ways, to the point that I was becoming convinced she was some kind of unstable soon-to-be villain a la Robin Williams in One Hour Photo and Insomnia. And then the truth sets in, after a series of flashbacks and current conversations between the friends, after which the film completely turns on its head.

Alice (Kendrick) meets her closest friends Tess (Kaniehtiio Horn) and Sophie (Wunmi Mosaku), who suggest that for Tess's upcoming birthday, the three women go to a relative's lake house for an unplugged vacation. They do, though Alice can't connect like she used to; she flinches a lot and obsessively monitors her phone, she gets defensive and irritable, she sits off on her own in silence rather than engaging and having fun. The girlfriends are attentive and concerned, but this weekend is about Tess and having fun, not about Alice or her attitude, so tensions rise and things get a bit prickly. After some time and conflict, the truth is finally revealed, and it's clear to the women that Alice's boyfriend Simon (Charlie Carrick) is deeply emotionally and psychologically abusive toward her.

And this is where the film hits differently. We've all "seen" emotional abuse in films before, but I have trouble recalling one where that is the primary focus, or where it is so accurately dramatized. There aren't physical confrontations here, no slapping or arm-grabbing or name-calling, just a series of deeply uncomfortable conversations -- which, it should be said, could be terribly triggering for the anxious or recovering audience member -- that include insidious psychological manipulations, gaslighting, and guilt trips. Her resulting panic attacks and anxiety (most clearly manifesting as ripping out her own hair) are torturous to watch, because from the outside the red flags are crystal clear. But Alice can't see the warning signs because she's too enmeshed in their codependency; we see her laboring to justify Simon's behavior and then her own behavior around him, describing his control as his love language toward her. It's horrific, and horrifyingly accurate to behold, especially when you think of people in your life who have gone through a similar situation or who might currently be suffering and we haven't caught on yet.

Apart from its story, first-time director Mary Nighy and cinematographer Mike McLaughlin work perfectly in tandem to craft a claustrophobic atmosphere of the uncanny. Alice's world isn't a bright, warm place, so often the colors are leeched from shots that only include Alice or her perspective. While the lake house and shots of nature are beautiful, they aren't ethereal or transcendent, suggesting (along with the sound mixing and score) that there is something not quite right in this apparent paradise. Appropriate, to be sure, as the neighborhood around the lake is currently organizing search parties to locate a missing girl, which Alice jumps into a little too eagerly. I mentioned earlier it made me wonder if she was a suspect, but by the time Simon shows up at the lake house to confront Alice and take her back home, I realized the missing girl subplot (or red herring) was a way for Alice (and us) to envision a possible means of her escape, or perhaps a cautionary tale of what she fears might happen.

Yet, despite the realism and horror of Alice's relationship with Simon, the film's heart lies much more strongly in the relationship between the young women. Tess and Sophie are in turns annoyed, suspicious, pitiful, helpful, and confrontational, and their dance around Alice is impressive mostly due to the actors. Similarly, Alice works best because of Kendrick's impossibly committed performance; the screenplay is fine, but the performances elevate it and then some. Their work as a trio, especially when the others know what Alice is really dealing with, moved me to sobbing tears by their final confrontation with Simon, and the briefly heartwarming ending thankfully ends with both Alice and the audience finally able to take a deep breath after so much anxiety-inducing tension.