I will go ahead and start by saying that Sarah Polley’s Women Talking is one of the best films of the year. The film has vulnerable, passionate performances by every cast member, stunning yet simple cinematography, and a heartbreaking score. While I have spoken about my love for this film before (which you can listen about here), I want to focus specifically on how Women Talking handled its content versus another film this year which also left me speechless, Andrew Dominik’s Blonde. I have also previously discussed this disgusting adaptation and recently listed it as one of the worst films I watched all year. Controversies and personal opinions aside, Blonde and Women Talking, offer a perfect opportunity to discuss how directors choose to handle the depiction of female trauma, abuse, and the patriarchal structure that allows these horrors to thrive. In short, Women Talking does everything right that Blonde did wrong. Most interestingly, it resurrects the conversations about who is allowed to tell what stories. 

Adapting Anguish

To start off, both films are adaptations of novels and are fiction. Blonde is adapted from Joyce Carol Oates’ novel of the same name, which is a fictionalized take on the life of Marilyn Monroe. Women Talking is also adapted from a novel of the same name, written by Miriam Toews. Both stories are fiction but based on true events and people. When Dominik and Polley took on their respective projects, they did so in very different ways.

Dominik’s adaptation of Marilyn’s life focused on the trauma she endured. While much of the film follows Oates’ blueprint, Dominik also includes his own fictionalized plot lines, including Marilyn (Ana de Armas) meeting Charlie “Cass” Chaplin Jr. (Xavier Samuel) and Eddy G. Robinson Jr. (Evan Williams). They have a threesome and soon form a “throuple.” Cass is even credited for pushing Monore to suicide. The whole film is graphic, disgusting, and traumatizing. We saw her raped, beaten, belittled, drugged, and forced to have abortions. When the film ended there is no sense of hope, understanding, or even anger. All you are asking is “why would someone make that?” Women Talking deals with similar torture afflicted on women and the same critiques of the male-dominated structures of society. However, Women Talking refused to grant the audience the spectacle of rape. 

Sara Polley’s film never crossed into the same traumatic threshold as Blonde. Following the conversations of women in a traditional religious community, there are a few frightening flashbacks of women waking up after they were raped; blood on the walls and between their legs, faces beaten, tears and screams slicing through the silence. We never had to see what happened to them. The film focused on their voices, their feelings, what they wanted to do, and what they feared. Hence the title, the film was mostly set in one room while the camera sat in on a conversation between women of different families and generations. It is a perfect, master-class example of how much you can do with dialogue and a stellar cast. Claire Foy, Jessie Buckley, Rooney Mara, and all the other women made us feel how they felt. We wept for them and with them. We got angry and wanted to fight with them. Most importantly, we understood their fears and, at times, their flaws. There was no spectacle of their assaults because it doesn’t matter how it happened or when. What matters is the assaults did happen, and the men who committed the crimes were getting away with it due to the power structure developed by men and upheld by men. 

And this is where the principal issue with Blonde lies: Dominik has no right to show the world all the humiliating, torturous, and devastating things that happened to Marilyn Monroe. Nor did he offer anything other than the worst imaginable situations. Whether or not they were fictionalized, Dominik chose to take the image of a woman who endured so much and turned her into nothing but an object, again, to be passed around by men and cameras. Sarah Polley did the opposite. She chose to focus on women and not the event. It wasn’t just about what happened but how they endured, fought, cried, and tried to keep what was left of their humanity. No female in the film was an object. They were mothers, daughters, sisters, friends, and people. They had voices, thoughts, and actions. They were everything the patriarchy considered them not to be. 

Dissecting the Credibility of the Filmmakers 

These two directors obviously took very different approaches. Dominik created an in-your-face spectacle focused on editing that highlighted the worst moments of a woman’s life. Polley lingered in the theater realm, focused on the screenplay, and showed what the actresses (and actor) could do with their performances. I won’t discredit one approach over the other, but I do think these two films come down to the person trying to tell the story. 

Andrew Dominik adapted a novel written by a novelist with no direct connection to Marilyn Monroe. Who’s to say Joyce Carol Oates had a right to tell Marilyn’s story? Personally, I don’t have an issue with it. It explores the patriarchy and power through the perspective of a known female figure. Fictionalized biographies are not what’s in question here. The issue is Dominik chose to put Monroe back through trauma, whereas Polley refused. Did he have a right to do so? As a woman, no, I don’t think a man can tell this kind of story. However, that’s not to say other male directors could have handled this subject matter more sensitively. As I said in my previous review of Blonde, this film felt like something no one asked for. I also can’t definitively argue that Sarah Polley had the right to tell the story of the women who escaped a harmful religious community. Unlike the original book’s author, she was not born in a Mennonite community. But again, I could go back and say if she doesn’t tell the story, who will? 

Before this gets too big, the most important point is that Sarah Polley handled female trauma more respectfully than Andrew Dominik. There really is no great way to depict rape, beatings, or anything of that nature. At times it may have its place in film. However, Dominik’s film was almost three hours of nonstop abuse that didn’t offer anything to the world about Marilyn other than Hollywood treating her like shit. We all know that. Polley told a story that people may or may not have known about and reminded the world that it is still happening. Furthermore, she got her point across without making female actresses depict horrors I’m sure no female wants to see or relive. 

Everyone should see Women Talking; it offers a near-perfect experience despite being so heartbreaking. My only wish is that it received more love during the awards race. Similar to my last review, I cannot say that I recommend Blonde to everyone. It includes a stellar performance from its leading lady, but overall is too traumatizing to offer any real conversation that Women Talking doesn’t already do more respectfully. When it comes down to it, Polley gave the women in her film space to act and time to think, whereas Dominik cut Marilyn/Armas down to an object and gave her nothing.

Article Courtesy of Sara Ciplickas