Editor’s Note: This article includes mention of sexual assault.
“When you get on the stage, don’t be too smart, okay? The guys don’t like being outshone.”
This chilling line from “The Dating Game” show host Ed Burke perfectly encapsulates the exploration of power, gender and fear in “Woman of the Hour.”
Directed by Anna Kendrick in her remarkable directorial debut, the retro Netflix thriller delves into the disturbing true story of Rodney Alcala, the infamous “Dating Game Killer.” Under Kendrick’s skillful direction, “Woman of the Hour” isn’t merely a retelling of a serial killer’s conquests — it’s a compelling examination of how women navigate a world where male dominance can swiftly turn deadly.
Set in the late 1970s, “Woman of the Hour” follows Rodney Alcala’s unsettling appearance on “The Dating Game,” a Los Angeles-based reality TV show where bachelors compete for a date with a woman on live television. Anna Kendrick not only directs but also stars in the lead role as struggling actress Cheryl Bradshaw, who, pressured by her agent, reluctantly appears as a contestant on “The Dating Game.” Unknowingly, she selects Alcala as her date — a man who had already murdered several women and would go on to claim many more lives. Although Alcala’s victim count is believed to reach as high as 130, the film zeroes in on the moments leading up to the show, capturing the pervasive fear he left in his wake.
A pivotal moment unfolds just before Bradshaw chooses one of the three bachelors on “The Dating Game.” Anxious about her performance, Bradshaw seeks advice from a makeup artist backstage — an older woman who has been working on the show for ten years. Their conversation about how to judge which bachelor to choose highlights the deeper threats that women face in the dating world.
“No matter what words they use, the question beneath the question remains the same,” the makeup artist says. When Bradshaw asks, “Alright, what’s the question?” the response pierces the heart of the film’s tension: “Which one of you will hurt me?”
This line encapsulates the undercurrent of fear women experience when performing under male scrutiny, never fully certain of the intentions behind seemingly benign interactions. Kendrick’s portrayal of Bradshaw, combined with her direction, highlights this subtle yet overwhelming tension. And when Bradshaw steps back onto the set and the cameras roll, the weight of that question lingers.
Kendrick’s direction subverts traditional true-crime storytelling by rejecting sensationalism in favor of a deeper emotional exploration. Instead of focusing on graphic violence, she hones in on the emotional terror and precise manipulation Alcala inflicted on his victims. Perhaps the most striking achievement is the director’s decision to build tension without relying on explicit gore, murder or assault. Instead, fear comes from the oppressive male gaze — the unsettling feeling that something is amiss as women are manipulated, dismissed and sized up. As a female director, Kendrick’s perspective is evident: She captures the moments of vulnerability that accumulate, revealing the insidious, habitual fear women often feel in a world where danger can hide even in the ordinary.
The source of fear in the film is not physical violence but psychological manipulation, creating a quieter, more unsettling terror. This directorial choice from Kendrick shines in a genre that often glorifies male violence. Men like Alcala, wolves in sheep’s clothing, roam free, leaving behind fractured pride, shattered trust and, at times, broken bodies. The film grips viewers with a simmering threat, not explicit brutality. This nuanced approach shows the importance of women’s perspectives in filmmaking, especially in true crime. By highlighting subtle aggression and the everyday power dynamics women endure — from casual harassment to life-altering violence — Kendrick brings fresh depth to a genre long dominated by male narratives.
Kendrick reframes the typical true-crime narrative by focusing not on the killer, but on the women who endure his manipulation and terror. What truly sets “Woman of the Hour” apart is Kendrick’s decision to center the story around the experiences of the women rather than the killer. Bradshaw’s experience on “The Dating Game” becomes a powerful reflection of the constant pressure women face to perform, to please and to survive in male-dominated spaces. Through Bradshaw’s wary glances and uneasy smiles, Kendrick captures the tension of a woman navigating a dangerous world where men hold all the cards — a world where one wrong move could lead to disaster.
The film also critiques societal structures that allow men like Alcala to operate without consequence. It indicts the societal norms that let predators like Alcala move through the world unchecked. Although set in the 1970s, the themes feel painfully current — casual misogyny, the dehumanization of women and the normalization of male aggression. Kendrick’s feminist lens transforms this thriller into a searing critique of a world that often fails to protect women from predators.
Kendrick’s approach is unflinching yet never exploitative. She conveys the suffocating pressure of male dominance without relying on gore or overt violence. This film’s power lies in its restraint — in the silence, the unsaid and the constant unease that lingers beneath the surface. This is where the real terror lies. By avoiding sensationalism, Kendrick creates a lasting, haunting atmosphere that makes “Woman of the Hour” one of the year’s most unnerving films, lingering with audiences long after the credits roll.
In a move that reflects the film’s core message, Kendrick donated her entire salary from “Woman of the Hour” to RAINN and the National Center for Victims of Crime, supporting survivors of the very violence the film critiques.
“This was never a money-making venture for me,” Kendrick said about her donation.
“Woman of the Hour” isn’t just about a serial killer; it’s a story of women’s strength, resilience and survival in a world that often seeks to silence them. Under Anna Kendrick’s direction, the film becomes not only a gripping thriller but also a compelling argument for the need for more female voices in film. Kendrick holds up a mirror to how women are conditioned to tolerate discomfort, downplay their intuition and normalize male aggression. It’s as much a feminist critique as it is a thriller, making it all the more impactful.
