Confronting the Male Gaze: Representation and Storytelling in Woman of the Hour

Countless mysteries, thrillers, and dramas rely on the death, disappearance, or exploitation of women to generate excitement and intrigue. Think Gone Girl, Girl on the Train, Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Psycho, Scream, most true crime stories, etc. In American popular culture, the dead or missing female is an instant source of drama and narrative in and of itself. Thus, it is relatively unsurprising when Woman of the Hour opens with the murder of a young woman. However, instead of adhering to the anticipated narrative framework, the movie subverts expectations, resisting the male gaze and confronting traditional representations of true crime stories in American media.  

The film is based on the true story of Rodney Alcala, a serial killer who operated primarily in California in the 1970s. He is thought to be responsible for the murder of as many as 130 women and girls, and is most famous for having won an episode of The Dating Game. The movie marks Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut, where she stars as Cheryl Bradshaw, an aspiring Hollywood actress who participated in the same episode of the game show and nearly went on a date with Alcala after selecting him as the winner. However, Woman of the Hour is by no means limited to that event. Although Kendrick takes numerous creative liberties, Woman of the Hour is undoubtedly a film about people, particularly the ordinary civilians who encountered Alcala. It is also a sprawling examination of representation and the female experience that consists of constantly grappling with what it means to be seen and depicted as a woman in a culture historically dominated by the heterosexual male perspective. 

Within the narrative of the film itself, blatant female objectification is heavily featured as Cheryl attempts to pursue a career in the 1970s Hollywood industry. As she wearily auditions for unfulfilling roles, casting directors unabashedly inspect her physical form, making no effort to conceal their intentions, and regularly inquire about nudity. Production managers on The Dating Game ask her to appear more feminine and less intelligent (synonymous requests in their eyes); and contestants on the show make shallow and derogatory comments about the role and value of women, suggesting that girls are “for guys,” breast size is an essential prerequisite for romantic connection, and a man is well within his rights to expect sex after taking a woman out. A perceptive young woman in an overwhelmingly masculine, overtly misogynistic environment, Cheryl is well aware of both the ways in which she is perceived by those around her and the qualities she is actively sacrificing–self-respect, dignity, intelligence–in pursuit of her professional objectives. In one of the most memorable scenes, she tells Alcala that her agent got her a slot on The Dating Game to get her seen, and when he inquires if she felt seen, she replies “I felt looked at.” With that statement, she succinctly captures the manner in which her character is objectified. She receives attention and recognition but only within the confines of the male gaze.  

Throughout the film, sexualization and objectification are also presented in contrast to the raw female desire to be seen and celebrated for one’s beauty. This near-universal impulse, some amalgamation of natural inclination and rampant socialization, is represented by several of Alcala’s victims, who, in addition to displaying ambition, resilience, and imagination, grudgingly appreciate what they perceive to be genuine admiration. Weaving together the experiences of numerous victims, Kendrick explores the ways in which the honest longing to be seen, frequently harnessed by Alcala, constitutes a source of tragic vulnerability for women of all backgrounds.

Representation and perception are not merely elements of the movie’s premise, however, as Kendrick also engages the same notions through her cinematography and directorial choices. She employs certain techniques and tools–bathroom mirrors, Alcala’s grainy camera lenses, blurred studio projectors, unconventional angles–to accentuate the concept of visibility and the practice of depiction. Furthermore, she does not adhere to rigid chronology but rather integrates the experiences and stories of several victims such that the movie, though united conceptually and aesthetically, has a fluid patchwork quality about it. In doing so, she strips Alcala of a measure of authority. It is not, afterall, a movie about his development or the trajectory of his life but about the lives of his victims and the female experience. Additionally, she fundamentally disrupts the conventional narratives that dominate American culture and the true crime genre, forcing the viewer to consider what it means to depict and consume these tales that fascinate and intrigue so many of us. In this way, technique becomes a theme in and of itself, as the movie is as much about storytelling as it is about historical reality.

Thus, as far as I can tell, in Woman of the Hour, Kendrick’s objective is twofold. First, she intends to entertain audiences while presenting a compelling story that authentically represents female victims, rather than sexualizing or exploiting their experiences for entertainment value. Unlike some documentaries and true crime programs, Kendrick does not seek to investigate or understand Alcala. He is a temporarily convincing performer suffering from nondescript emotional trauma, but above all a rapist and a murderer unworthy of nuance or cinematic complexity. Though he is perhaps the most prominent character, he is presented exclusively in the context of his victims’ lives. The film rejects his perspective, ardently refusing to rationalize his behavior or prioritize his condition. Her second objective for the film is more generally to be a study in representation and an interrogation of the male gaze that dominates American media. It challenges conventional representation and consumption of true crime narratives, forcing us to consider not merely the events depicted but our inherent perspectives and biases forged by popular culture. Therefore, in both its production and content, Woman of the Hour navigates what it means to be seen and perceived, especially as a woman.