Woman of the Hour

Imagine being trapped in a neon-lit 1970s TV studio, forced to giggle at sexist double entendres while sitting six feet away from a man who may have recently committed a double homicide. That is the nauseating, fascinating core of Woman of the Hour. I watched this while nursing a slightly-too-hot mug of peppermint tea, and the steam kept fogging up my glasses during the tense parking lot scene, which only added to the claustrophobic, "get-me-out-of-here" energy of the film.

This isn't your typical true crime procedural. It’s not interested in the "why" of the killer's psyche or the gritty details of a police investigation. Instead, Anna Kendrick, in her directorial debut, crafts a film about the systemic blindness that allows a predator to operate in broad daylight—and even on national television.

The Bachelor Who Brought a Knife to a Rose Fight

The film weaves between the 1978 taping of The Dating Game and various vignettes of Rodney Alcala’s crimes across the decade. Anna Kendrick plays Sheryl Bradshaw, an aspiring actress who is tired of being told to "just smile" by agents and casting directors who view her as a set of dimensions rather than a person. When she lands a spot on the game show, she’s initially just playing the part, but she eventually snaps, ditching the scripted fluff to ask the bachelors actual, biting questions.

Opposite her is Daniel Zovatto as Rodney Alcala. He is terrifying specifically because he is so normal. He’s handsome, soft-spoken, and a talented photographer—the kind of guy your mom would describe as a "nice catch" before he leads you into the woods. Zovatto plays the role with a chilling stillness. He manages to look like he’s both the handsomest guy in the bar and the primary reason you’d never leave your drink unattended. His performance avoids the mustache-twirling villainy of 90s thrillers, opting instead for a contemporary, grounded portrayal of a predator who thrives on the social politeness of his victims.

Directing Through the Female Gaze

As a director, Anna Kendrick (best known for the Pitch Perfect franchise or Up in the Air) proves she has a sharp eye for tension. She doesn't lean into gore; she leans into the "vibes" of a situation gone wrong. There’s a particular scene where Rodney follows Sheryl to a parking lot after the show. There are no jump scares, no swelling violins—just the sound of footsteps and the sheer, exhausting weight of a woman trying to be "polite" enough not to die, but "firm" enough to be left alone.

The film excels when it focuses on the women Rodney encountered. Nicolette Robinson gives a heartbreaking performance as Laura, a woman in the studio audience who recognizes Rodney from a past tragedy and is ignored by the show’s production staff. The way the men in charge dismiss her as "crazy" or "emotional" is the film’s real horror story. It’s a sharp critique of the era, but it feels uncomfortably relevant to contemporary conversations about believing women.

A Million-Dollar Look on a Shoestring Budget

One of the most impressive things about Woman of the Hour is its production history. Despite the lush 70s aesthetic—all mustard yellows, shag carpets, and hazy cinematography by Zach Kuperstein (who also shot the eerie Barbarian)—the film was made on a reported budget of just over $800,000. That’s essentially the catering budget for a Marvel movie.

Kendrick stepped in to direct only after the original director dropped out, and she managed to shoot the whole thing in about 20 days. This "indie hustle" is evident in the film’s tight pacing. There’s no bloat here; at 95 minutes, it respects your time. The script, written by Ian McDonald, had been languishing on the "Black List" (the industry’s list of the best unproduced scripts) for years before Kendrick helped shepherd it to the screen.

The film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) to a massive bidding war, eventually landing at Netflix. It’s the kind of movie that thrives in the streaming era—a high-concept, expertly acted drama that might have struggled to find a theatrical audience in a landscape dominated by sequels, but found a massive second life on laptops and TVs worldwide.

Woman of the Hour is a confident, unsettling debut from Anna Kendrick. It avoids the pitfalls of the true crime genre by refusing to glamorize the killer, focusing instead on the bravery and the "sixth sense" of the women he targeted. It’s a thriller that feels like it was made for this moment, even as it looks back at one of the weirdest chapters in 20th-century pop culture. True crime has turned into a ghoulish spectator sport lately, but Kendrick refuses to let us enjoy the gore. Instead, she makes us sit in the discomfort of how easy it is for a monster to hide in the glare of a studio light.