Review: ‘Women Talking’ follows the difficult journey of a community of women taking back their personhood
‘Women Talking’ is a moving depiction of the effects of trauma and the difficulty of rising above years of victimhood.
A review of the last few decades of fiction narratives reveals a disturbing normalization of abuse, particularly against women. It wasn’t until recently that these acts have been condemned, shining a light on not only the behaviour, but our reactions to it. Whether it’s victim blaming, denial, disbelief or acceptance, there is a prevalent movement to re-evaluate how we, as a society, address this long hidden and often ignored issue. Most galling is when there’s indisputable evidence and the response is to still sweep the incident(s) under the rug. In Women Talking, a group of victims come together to discuss how they should collectively address generations of abuse.
In a tight-knit Mennonite community, several men have been turned over to the authorities for sexually assaulting the village’s women and girls. However, they are far from the only culprits in years of abuse that have been concealed, actively ignored and explained away as acts of ghosts and Satan. Now, the women are at a crossroads and they must choose between three options: do nothing, stay and fight, or leave. After a first-of-its-kind vote, a small group of women are appointed to deliberate their choices. Gathered in a hayloft, the only remaining man, a schoolteacher named August (Ben Whishaw), takes minutes as the women have only two days to decide their fates before the other men return.
Writer/director Sarah Polley has not released a film in a decade, but she returns with a poignant examination of trauma. There are very few sets in the picture, emphasizing that these women are isolated and alone in their stand against the non-discretionary rape that’s occurred (and reoccurred) most of their lives. Whether they have husbands or fathers that have failed to protect them is not the issue, nor is it discussed except in the general context that none of the men have attempted to stop these crimes (and at least one is a perpetrator). Instead, the movie focuses on the women, taking their cues from two younger girls, to finally take their safety into their own hands.
The narrative is based on the true story of the repeated drugging and raping of 150 women in a Bolivian Mennonite colony, fictionalized in a book by Miriam Toews of the same name. The subject matter is dealt with in a manner that both underlines its effects, while never explicitly describing the scenes. Polley expertly splices in via brief flashbacks of women waking up frightened, bruised and bleeding, never holding long enough to allow anyone to dwell too long on what was since this is about what will be. This same method is used to underscore the difficulty of their decision. Yet, the emotional scars these women wear also mark the debate. They are angry, scared, confused, determined… and hopeful that their choice will create a better future. As an outsider, some of their arguments can sometimes seem unreasonable – but as you get to know them better throughout the discussion, you slowly gain an understanding of who they are and why they feel a certain way.
The film begins by noting what follows is an “act of female imagination” as the ability for women to make such choices based purely on self-preservation is so inconceivable – under any circumstances. Moreover, one woman is referred to as a daydreamer because she envisions a world in which they have self-autonomy and the men respect their opinions. Fittingly, The Monkees’ hit, “Daydream Believer,” pops up in various spots throughout the picture. Similarly, August’s subdued presence appears to be a reminder that not all the colony’s men are bad, though the fact that he’s returned after his family was ex-communicated already sets him apart from the others.
The cast – which includes Rooney Mara, Claire Foy, Jessie Buckley, Frances McDormand, Judith Ivey, Kate Hallett, Liv McNeil, Sheila McCarthy and Michelle McLeod – is exceptional. They cry because there are no other outlets for their pain. They laugh and occasionally poke fun at the absurdity of their situation. They yell and rage at each other because they can’t unleash their fury on the men who deserve it. And they console each other because they’ve all been made victims by these heinous crimes. The ending is simultaneously uplifting, empowering and surreal, a symbol of both hope and impossibility.
Director: Sarah Polley
Starring: Rooney Mara, Claire Foy and Jessie Buckley
