An Ill-Defined Period
The other night, we went to see Luca Guadagnino's latest release, After the Hunt, in cinema. I was excited a bit, since I really loved his previous film, Queer, and while this new one didn't quite live up to the expectation, it proved a strong and somewhat unexpected little story.
Basically, the film follows Alma (Julia Roberts), a middle-aged professor who gets caught in the middle of a #MeToo type scandal where one of her favorite young students, Maggie (the fantastic Ayo Edebiri of The Bear fame), accuses her colleague and long-time collaborator, Hank (Andre Garfield), of sexual assault.
Now, I'm typically wary of these kinds of narratives. Although I strongly believe in the importance of speaking out against harrassment and abuse, holding powerful men accountable, and of course giving a voice to those who have been voiceless for too long, I do see some dangers in the #MeToo movement, of which I've written in the past. There have been so many stories that have turned out to be lies, so much polarization of the genders - a lot of men are now arguably wary of women lest they turn out to be some kind of manipulative psycho bitch who makes up a lie about them. On the other hand, women have a long history of being wary of men, their lies and violence, which is ongoing, unfortunately.
I just worry that many of these more outrageous stories are doing to the feminist movement what the trans ideology is doing to the LGB community, namely, perverting and endangering it. Unfortunately, if gay men are associated with so-called trans people who end up assaulting women, they will also become reviled and ostracized, something nobody wants. Similarly, if enough women are shown to lie or use manipulative tactics, it will inevitably create a blowback that risks taking us way back.
It's a difficult thing, learning how to walk the precarious line between equality and justice, and I think we're still in a period of finding equilibrium.
Which is something I felt the movie captured rather brilliantly. Without giving too much away, it focuses heavily on the relationship between the two women, Alma and Maggie. Coming from very different generations, it's fascinating to watch. While Alma is the stereotype, very popular in analysis and therapy, the chronically bottling-up and minimizing abuse and suffering, Maggie is the opposite. She is an emblem of this meandering, weak generation that takes offense at anything and everything and that expects the world to quite simply be delivered on a silver platter.
Throughout the movie, we get a few very strong clashes between the two, with the older woman understandably rebuffing this young, entitled, wheedling woman.
"Not everything is supposed to be comfortable, Maggie."
I was frankly surprised how brutally honest Guadagnino is in this one, very aptly delivering his criticism of these young people, both in the dialogue and in the behavior of the characters. For instance, I was very interested in the scene where Maggie comes to Alma for help after the alleged assault. When pressed as to what Hank actually did to hurt her, Maggie refuses to reply and feigns shock, asking does it even matter if I say it was assault?
Personally, I would argue, very much so. Somehow, we've fallen into the perilous notion that asking for clarification is the same as doubting the woman. And it's appaling, as it flies in the face of this very obvious and true value, that of truth.
But then, it does fit with this new world's idea that reality is open to interpretation and that simply saying or wanting something to be so actually makes it so.
I was also surprised and deeply satisfied to note, for one, the film's criticism of these professional complainers, these campus-picketers who have defined their identities by flimsy make-believe pronouns and being against something new every other week. It's a very poor basis for actual identity, though for a long time, it has been off limits. It's certainly interesting to see a renowned filmmaker openly attack it (or at least not paint these layabouts as the victim-cum-victor by default.
Finally, what I thought was very interesting about Maggie's character was her race. Obviously, Ayo Edebiri is a phenomenal actress in her own right, but I felt the movie plays very interestingly with the subject of race here. On the one hand, Maggie starts decrying racism in academia and the difficulties of being a black woman in the modern world. On the other, as the film reveals, she is the daughter of millionaire Yale donors, who lacks for nothing in life, and simply chooses to slum it with people way below her possibilities and background (as the professor points out in one heated argument).
On the other hand, you've got Alma herself and her fellow professor, whose name I forget, but who's played by the talented Chloe Sevigny, both white women who've fought sexism in academia, rising through the ranks and coming from poverty to living in fancy, imposing mansions. While they complain far less about privilege and difficulty, arguably, they've had a much worse time of it. There's also a contrast between Maggie and Hank, her alleged abuser and "privileged white male". As a conversation between Alma and Hank reveals, Hank also comes from nothing and despite being a man and Caucasian, he has presumably worked his whole life towards tenure, towards a reputation and a good life. In this specific example, it does seem reasonable to ask, which of the two characters can truly claim to have known hardship, and who is actually entitled?
It feels like a subtle but smart way to highlight a point here -
To me, a key takeaway from the film was that we should, for the sake of our shared humanity, refrain from thinking in groups (be they race, gender, or sexual inclination) and go back to thinking from a personal, individual level to truly understand where each person is coming from.
It's an interesting and tense relationship of attraction and competition between these two women, and of society, more broadly. I think it's worth having a documentation of this fragile point in time, of this point of bitter conflict between generations. And while the movie does drag at times (certainly, the last 10 minutes are unnecessary), it's a worthwhile watch for the socially-conscious observer of our times.
Your posts are always fearless and wise. I wish I could speak openly like that
Is this movie your recommendation for something exciting?
The details matter, but they were probably omitted to have the audience appeal to a wider audience, be more sponsor friendly (good job VW for getting in on the image) - and to avoid the inevitable "Trigger warnings" that come from dealing with real trauma.
For example, I've watched "Girl, Interrupted", exactly once. That is all the times one needs to watch a film with such high impact in order to get the point, be moved, understand (to some extent) - the trauma, horror, and misery experienced by the characters, and I don't need to ever watch it again.
What feels like the intentional sanitation of cinema and storytelling in examples like the one you gave above feels like a creative field that is afraid (be it for financial, censure, or other reasons) - to truly explore the breadth and depth of the subject matter they are studying - unless, of course, they are trying to avoid scandal, by creating scandal.
What I mean by this is - what sort of message does it truly send to victims / survivors / those who aren't quite sure if they're being abused? That it is okay to not quantify the extent or fully explore the impact in order to devolve the whole act into a "she said, he said"?