
We're at the last catchup movie in the Adapted Screenplay category! We've already reviewed Glass Onion here and I did see Top Gun when it came out, which I'll provide a quick review for before revealing my final pick.
I also had to watch this movie in a theater. I couldn't find it streaming on any of the major platforms, so I found myself in a completely empty theater on a Wednesday night. Not sure when the last time that happened was, but there is something nice about the big screen and the surround sound. I don't actually have a TV, just my laptop, so maybe I should go to the theater more often.
Before we start, a content warning is in effect for this review. The basis of the conflict involves sexual and domestic violence and religious extremism.
Briefly, and Without Spoilers
Women Talking opens on an ultra-religious community (akin to the Amish or Mennonite communities, although a specific religion is not mentioned) discovering an ongoing plague of rapes have been committed by members of their own community and not by "ghosts or the Devil" as was previously claimed. Local authorities arrest the accused perpetrators and the remaining men of the community travel to town to bail them out.
This gives the women of the community just two days to decide how they want to proceed: "Forgive" their attackers, stay and fight, or leave the colony altogether. A small group of representatives gather to discuss their options and come to a final decision that will affect the rest of the colony and their futures.
Women Talking, written for screen by Sarah Polley, is based on a book of the same name by Miriam Toews. The movie is nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture.
"We Learned to Vote" (Spoilers Ahead!!)
I feel like this movie hit on every major discussion point surrounding sexual violence and acted as one long trauma processing event. As the movie goes on, it weaves through the complexities of being traumatized, having a shared trauma with other victims, and processing the conditions that allow for these things to not only happen, but fester.
I also think there are many moments of strength and power from the women of the colony. Right at the very beginning, the movie's narrator, Autje (Kate Hallett), tells us that the women of the colony, as they refer to it, couldn't read or write, but that on that day, they learned how to vote. They created a democracy with drawings and simple markings. And the idea seemed to be that every woman deserved to have a voice, but they would also stand together, whatever the group chose. Anyone who did not wish to stand with them was free to make their own choice. But by the end, there were almost no dissenters. They all left together.

There were also moments of communal support and comfort. The handful of times the discussions needed to stop to comfort one of their own happened without hesitation. All the women instantly moved to comfort the sick child, the overwhelmed victim, and the isolated mother. No matter how tense the arguing got, they were sisters first.
We also see this strength in different forms. People like Salome (Claire Foy) and Mariche (Jessie Buckley) display a kind of fierce strength. The kind displayed by women who have walked through fire and have come out thicker-skinned for it. And then you have strength like the kind from Ona (Rooney Mara) or Agata (Judith Ivey) who display a quieter, calmer, more grounded strength. The kind that people can lean on in times of calamity. Ultimately, we realize that these different forms of strength each play their role and are an important part of the community dynamic.
Generational Trauma and Generational Enabling
A major aspect of the story's central conflict is about how we pass things down to the next generation. And of course, a lot of this is about generational trauma. They make it clear from the outset that some of the older women have suffered through the attacks since they were young and it's heavily implied that the youngest victim is four years old.
So the story largely explores the harms of generational trauma, but it also explores this generational enabling of the attackers. In fact, there's an entire scene of the women discussing where the men and the young boys learned their violent behaviors. And they're right. When we create a world that allows one person after the next to get away with sexual violence, is it really deemed a crime anymore? Even the whole premise behind the women being alone in the colony because the men have collectively gone to bail out the accused speaks to the belief that not only do the men think they're not doing anything wrong, but that it is their right to use and abuse the women of the colony.
This also shows itself during a discussion about Mariche's circumstances and how she behaves around her abusive husband. The women admonish her for not doing anything to protect herself and her children and Mariche challenges them by asking what she was supposed to have done. After living in a community that encourages perpetual forgiveness toward those who have wronged you, suddenly Mariche is in the wrong for taking the lessons she's been given and applying them in the only way she knows how to appease her peers and protect her children. And really, until the women suddenly banded together over a shared trauma, what sort of support would she have had to escape such a life? It certainly didn't seem like any of the women were stepping up to protect her.
There was one line that was particularly powerful to me. "Sometimes forgiveness can be mistaken as permission."
Even outside religion, forgiveness is sometimes painted as this freedom from personal grudge and anger. And to be fair, forgiveness can be very important and very freeing. But if you have to continue to be around the people who are hurting you, and you tell them you forgive them, it doesn't always lead to this epiphany that the attacker should turn their life around. Sometimes, it teaches this person that you won't fight back. That you'll continue to take the abuse and excuse their behavior.
Not to mention, the movie brings up another good point about forgiveness: if it isn't genuine, and is coming from a place in which you feel you have no other choice, is it really forgiveness? Kind of like, I don't know, if you're in a position where you can't safely say "no," is it really consent?
Not All Men

There were actually a couple of men that we did like throughout the story. It's established from the onset that the women can't read or write, so they ask the colony's teacher, August (Ben Wishaw), to take notes for them. Throughout the story, August repeatedly respects what the women are trying to accomplish and only inserts himself when asked (with a couple exceptions). It's clear he respects the proceedings and doesn't want his presence as a man to unduly disrupt them.
He's also honest about the men of the colony and never diminishes the accusations the women have levied against them. But he also acts as a sort of defender for the next generation. There's a great scene where the women, after they've decided to leave, want to know how young a boy can be before he becomes a threat, and they ask August if boys as young as thirteen and fourteen are capable of sexual violence. August admits that boys of that age aren't as innocent as mothers may make them out to be, but that they're at a key point in their lives when they can still be taught to be better. August claims that with the right guidance, the young boys can be better than their predecessors and he agrees to be that guide for them. It's an important moment that looks at a solution to this problem beyond removing the women from the situation. That if someone doesn't intervene, this violence will only continue against other women.
There's also an interesting trans character named Melvin (August Winter) who transitions not long after a miscarriage that was the result of a rape. Melvin doesn't speak, at least not to the adults and it seems as though Melvin represents the silenced victims, the ones who are often not included in the discussion, like trans people and men. In fact, it isn't until the women use his chosen name that he speaks his first words to them. It's a moment that displays mutual understanding and acknowledgement between the cis women and trans man of the colony. And Melvin clearly appreciates finally feeling respected and included.
Not All Women
There's also an interesting representation of women who don't support victims. There are a few moments in which the women discussing the options put one another's experiences down, from Autje thinking her mother is dismissing her accusations to Mariche blowing up at Mejal (Michelle McLeod) for, in her eyes, not being strong enough to handle her PTSD.
But one of the more whole representations of this "not all women" idea is Scarface Janz (Frances McDormand). Janz is thoroughly against the women leaving and insists they forgive the men, as is expected of them. In fact, she becomes so disgusted with the group for not considering this option that she storms out, taking her daughter and granddaughter with her.
Janz seems to represent the women who refuse to believe accusations when they arise, particularly against people they know, or diminish the severity of the problem, claiming women are either lying or exaggerating or should simply move on. Despite the fact that, based on the scar on her face, I believe we're supposed to assume she is the victim of the attacks as well.
But interestingly, she doesn't want to forgive the men because she's trying to protect them. She's still trying to protect herself, and by extension the other women. She insists that the only way they can get into heaven is to forgive the men, not because they hold the key to heaven, but because it seems like she sees the colony itself as a key part of salvation. That being isolated allows them to remain pure, and that leaving to live in the real world would risk that. And this is so paramount to her faith that she's willing to live with the perpetrators in order to save her eternal soul. So in some ways, she's more like the women who put up with sexual harassment at workplaces because they want to move forward in their careers. They think of harassment as a necessary evil in order to come out on top and are sometimes threatened by women who want to rock the boat and confront harassers, because they know it might jeopardize their careers. And it often comes from a place of feeling, or knowing, that rocking that boat may do more harm than good, or feeling that they don't have the tools or support to rock the boat.
Talking Good, World Building...
Alright, so the characters, the symbols, the story, it's all very good, but I do have one qualm. There's a lot I don't understand about this colony. They seem like Mennonites, or maybe something similar, although I'm not particularly familiar with the Mennonite community or their practices. But there's a lot about their rules and structure that I don't understand. It took me a long time to understand that there are married couples, despite the fact that they don't seem to talk about any husbands other than Mariche's. August and Ona's relationship also raised more questions, because they make it seem like Ona could ask for a marriage? But did Mariche ask to marry her husband? Is Salome married?
Also EVERY man had to go bail out the accused? That seems like a lot of dudes to just show up to a county jail. But then they only need one guy to go back and get more livestock to trade for bail money. That seems a little odd as well.
And how big is this colony? The final shot of all the women leaving suggest it's pretty substantial, but based on building number, it doesn't seem like there's enough room for all those people.
For the most part, I didn't need to know the logistics of the colony to follow the storyline, but I do have questions.
A Good Talk
All in all, though, it was a good talk, and an important one. I appreciated how the complicated nature of these discussions were represented in the story, and yet still respected the trauma that these fictional women went through and the trauma that many of their viewers may have gone through. And definitely worth the nomination.
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