In her directorial debut, Anna Kendrick manages to peel back the layers of Hollywood glamour and reveal its disturbing underbelly in Woman of the Hour, a true-crime thriller that intertwines the glitzy absurdity of a 1970s game show with the grim reality of a serial killer's ongoing murder spree. Based on the true story of Rodney Alcala, infamously dubbed "The Dating Game Killer," the film juxtaposes the entertainment world’s lighthearted frivolity with the darkness lurking just beneath its surface.
Set in the bizarre and tacky universe of the 1970s, the film offers up an unsettling juxtaposition: Alcala, a prolific serial killer, made a chilling appearance on The Dating Game in 1978 while actively murdering women. The story that unfolds is equal parts unnerving and tragic, centring on Cheryl Bradshaw (played by Kendrick), an aspiring actress unaware that she’s sharing the stage with a predator.
From the moment Alcala (played by Daniel Zovatto) is introduced, the audience is thrust into a world where charm can be as dangerous as a loaded gun. The film kicks off with a haunting opening, showing Alcala luring women to their deaths under the guise of photography—a tool of his manipulation and violence. Zovatto's Alcala is a master of double lives: charismatic and disarming on camera, yet terrifyingly remorseless off it. He embodies the cold, calculated nature of a man whose twisted mind was still able to impress the shallow producers of The Dating Game.
But it’s Kendrick’s Cheryl who serves as the film’s emotional anchor. Cheryl’s reluctance to appear on The Dating Game—which she sees as a demeaning gig for an actress with higher ambitions—mirrors her instinctive unease when she meets Alcala. The game show, brilliantly recreated with its gaudy set design, polyester suits, and cheesy banter, is a surreal backdrop for the impending danger. Cheryl’s growing discomfort during her interactions with Alcala contrasts with the studio audience’s clueless enthusiasm, making it clear how often evil hides in plain sight.
The film doesn't shy away from portraying Alcala’s calculated brutality. Kendrick uses flashbacks and parallel timelines to show Alcala’s reign of terror, keeping the tension taut as we watch his victims fall prey to his manipulations. Yet, the narrative's genius lies in its restraint—it doesn’t overindulge in gratuitous violence, instead leaving much to the audience's imagination, which, of course, makes it all the more terrifying.
Kendrick, stepping behind the camera while also starring, proves she’s more than capable of handling both roles. Her performance as Cheryl is a delicate balancing act, capturing the character’s growing horror as she realizes what she’s gotten herself into. She portrays Cheryl with quiet strength, using subtle expressions and body language to convey her suspicions about Alcala while maintaining her composure in front of the cameras. By the time the game show wraps up and Cheryl is alone with Alcala, you can practically feel her anxiety clawing at the edges of the screen.
Zovatto is equally impressive as Alcala, delivering a chilling portrayal of a man who can seamlessly slip between charming and sinister. His portrayal of Alcala's eerie self-assurance as he sits on a dating show, mere hours after committing murder, is haunting. The chemistry between Kendrick and Zovatto is taut with tension; their post-show encounter in a parking lot might be one of the film’s most nerve-wracking scenes, as it balances on a knife-edge of violence.
Tony Hale brings a touch of levity to the film as the oblivious Dating Game host, whose sunny demeanor is jarringly at odds with the unfolding horror. His character, like so many others in the entertainment industry, is completely out of his depth, unaware of the monster in their midst.
For a directorial debut, Kendrick shows remarkable poise, crafting a film that never feels exploitative despite its grisly subject matter. Instead, she focuses on the psychological dread, using pacing and clever framing to build tension in a way that feels Hitchcockian. She also deftly uses the visual contrast between the bright, garish world of the game show and the bleakness of Alcala’s predatory world to emphasize the film’s themes of deception and duality.
Kendrick also wisely chooses to center the film around the women who crossed paths with Alcala, making the victims’ voices just as important as the killer’s. In doing so, Woman of the Hour becomes not just a thriller, but also a meditation on how easily society overlooks and dismisses women’s fears—whether it’s Cheryl’s unease with Alcala or an audience member trying to warn a security guard about him.
Woman of the Hour is a taut, unsettling film that lingers long after the credits roll. It’s a sobering reminder of the dangerous power dynamics that allow men like Alcala to charm their way into society's good graces, despite the devastation they leave in their wake. The film’s restraint, focusing on the psychological over the grotesque, makes it all the more effective.
Kendrick has delivered not only a well-crafted thriller but also a poignant commentary on a society quick to dismiss women’s instincts. Her directorial debut is a bold, ambitious step that promises exciting things for her future behind the camera.
In a world where true crime stories can sometimes feel sensationalized or exploitative, Woman of the Hour strikes the right balance, turning a horrifying true story into a compelling and thought-provoking piece of cinema. Don’t expect to sleep easy after watching this one—its horrors feel too close to home.
Share this post