Score: 4.5 / 5
The gritty crime dramas of the '70s -- and since -- are almost always about men. White-dominated mob brotherhood violence is manifest in our minds without much provocation, and while I don't want to disparage movies that dramatize organized crime, they tend to succeed by drawing attention to toxic masculinity, obsessive materialism, and cruelty to immigrants, women, and queer folk in a way more glamorous than condemnatory. Which is why Julia Hart's latest film is gobsmackingly brilliant in its subversive, progressive, and thoroughly entertaining twist on the genre.
Jean (Rachel Brosnahan) introduces herself in third person, much like a fairytale beginning, but her tone clearly indicates this is no love story. She has a nice life, lounging at her husband Eddie's (Bill Heck) home while he is away at work. They are apparently unable to procreate or even adopt children, and Jean seems to be dealing with that well; we first see her in fairly glamorous style at home alone, waiting for Eddie to return, stretched on a chaise in vibrant pink and sipping though it is certainly not cocktail hour. What does the hubby do? Well, we don't really know, but when he suddenly and mysteriously shows up with a baby, gifting it to Jean with no warning, we suspect foul play. Tellingly, she does not question it; if anything, she seems irritated that her carefully upkept appearance might suffer as a result of this sudden imposition.
She's not much of a housewife, beyond her good looks, as she can't even fry an egg, and she either doesn't care (or has learned not to inquire) where her husband frequently goes. But she accepts the burden of her new child, Harry, with apparent grace. Until, that is, she is brusquely awoken in the middle of the night by her husband's associate, who gives her money and directions to go on the run. Passed off to Cal (Arinze Kene, whose performance is terrific), she finally learns Eddie is missing and "everyone" (meaning very dangerous people) is looking for him, Jean gets placed in a suburban house with explicit instructions to stay in isolation and talk to no one. As anyone living during the last year could tell you, this isn't easy, and Jean quickly connects with the kindly widowed neighbor.
As Jean learns to navigate this half-world of crime and violence, she slowly comes into her own. I say slowly because the movie is almost unbearably slow-burning. But I suppose, in context, she actually starts standing up for herself quicker than you'd expect. More importantly -- and big kudos to Hart and co-writer Jordan Horowitz -- she learns a lot about her own privilege as a wealthy white woman. Through her relationship with Cal, her protector, and his own family of Teri (a dazzling Stephanie Blake), their son, and Cal's father (Frankie Faison), Jean's eyes are opened beyond the violence of organized crime to the violent nature of America. Her friendly neighbor might even be in on a scheme to get Jean and her baby, and the sequence that resolves that conflict is what kicks the movie from slick domestic mystery to full-blown suburban thriller.
Hart's eye shifts coolly, in this scene, from focusing on her own production design of fabulous seventies fashion to a noir aesthetic. Candy-colored clothes and furniture are slowly toned down to earthier hues, and the amber-tinted lightscape becomes heavily shrouded in encroaching shadow. And yet, as her world descends to paranoia and brutality, Jean comes into her own; with gumption and verve, she muscles her way through unlikely scenarios into a subgenre we've not yet seen on screen. Brosnahan is nothing short of amazing in this movie, supported as she is by her equally arresting co-stars, but the screenplay gives her a lot of great material to work with. Jean's initially weak, waiting character forges ahead into a strange and violent new world with rousing fortitude, all while raising a baby and building community with unlikely outsiders. Entertainment that deals honestly and encouragingly with motherhood, feminism, and race? Yes, please! This is no Godfather redone with a woman and Black folk as the main characters; this is a subversive approach to staunchly feminist possibilities of a new genre (more than once I thought of Widows while watching this movie), built on the dying framework of a genre best laid to rest.
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