Directed by Sarah Polley
United Artists Releasing, 104 minutes, PG-13 (themes of rape and violence)
★★★★★
Women Talking was a highly acclaimed but little seen Oscar Best Picture nominee. Make no mistake; it certainly deserved more consideration for Best Picture than the video game tripe that actually won. (Director Sarah Polley did win for Best Adapted Screenplay.)
Polley has largely forsaken acting for the director’s chair (Away From Her; Alias Grace). Although it might not seem immediately apparent, Women Talking is a deeply feminist and political film that confirms the buzz that Polley is one of the brightest and boldest of her generation. It is what one might get by mashing together The Handmaid’s Tale, The Trojan Women, and a Mennonite community from hell. It really is about Mennonites, a good starting point for discussing Polley’s brash and brilliant film. You might think it a cheap shot to attack a group of communal Anabaptists, but what you see on the screen is based on a lightly fictionalized account from ex-Mennonite Miriam Toews whose community in Bolivia saw male members secretly administer animal tranquilizers to rape females aged 3 to 65. (Another in Manitoba also had such cases.) In Women Talking, the women aver pacifism, but many of the men fall short of that lofty goal.
The camera pans a young woman who awakes to injuries and an STD from a sexual assault. This time, though, her mother Salome (Claire Foy) storms a holding area where several men await transfer to jail, scythe in hand. She is subdued by female elders, but readily admits her willingness to kill. While most of the remaining men journey to an unnamed city to arrange bail, 11 leading women—many of whom have no idea of who fathered their children–gather to decide whether to practice Christian forgiveness, stay and fight back, or leave and create a new community. Women are not taught to read and write, but they vote by making an X on a large sheet of paper. Scarface Janz (Frances McDormand, one of the film’s co-producers) and Mariche (Jessie Buckley) lead the status quo but are vastly outnumbered. The problem, though, is a dead tie between stay-and-fight led by Salome and Mejal (Michele McLeod) and those who feel they must leave to retain their pacifism, including Agata (Judith Ivey) and Greta (Sheila McCarthy). Ona (Rooney Mara) also leans in that direction, though she harbors idealistic notions of building a community of love either within or outside the community.
The women do as the title suggests: talk. They appoint sweet-tempered August (Ben Whishaw) as their chronicler as they weigh the options. He is the community teacher (boys only) who comes from an ex-communicated family and failed as a farmer. He is also deeply in love with Ona and she with him, though she carries a child via her own rape. There is also a transgender character in the film: Melvin (August Winter, who is non-binary), who presents as a man and has spoken only to children after being sexually assaulted.
If you think that debate is a blood sport, you’ve never had one with women wrestling with how best to express their faith. Heated, yes, but enveloped within beliefs based upon how to attain the Kingdom of God. Like Ona, they must decide whether that is best accomplished by staying or leaving. Two events will tip the scales.
Polley takes us inside a world most of us will never experience. Her direction, supplemented by a superb original score from Icelandic cellist and composer Hilda Guðandóttir (and an assist from The Monkees’ “Daydream Believer”) that adds to the otherworldly ambience. Polley’s greatest achievement though, was what she wrung from her cast. If you only know Claire Foy from her role as a young Queen Elizabeth, her fiery anger and grit will surprise, but Jessie Buckley is her equal–though initially they hold opposing views. Sheila McCarthy is better known in Canada, but she’s an absolute delight as a thoughtful grandmotherly type who likes to expound upon what she has learned from her horses and isn’t afraid to screw on a wry smile and admit when she has misjudged. She is the balm to Ivey’s reason and impatience. None, though, surprise like Rooney Mara. You might not initially recognize her in her dimpled-face innocence and the depth she exudes in a soft-spoken almost ethereal role.
Brava to Sarah Polley. Women Talking is a triumph.
Rob Weir
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