Woman of the Hour

In lesser hands, Woman of the Hour could have become a lurid, standard-issue cable movie-of-the-week saga. And in fact, the true-life crimes of serial killer Rodney Alcala have been dramatized on screen before.

However, the directorial debut of actress Anna Kendrick examines the perpetrator and his victims through a contemporary feminist lens, freshening the 1970s material in an age of empowerment, ubiquitous reality television, and viral fame where anybody can become a star with a single click.

Kendrick (Pitch Perfect) plays Cheryl, a fledgling actress in Los Angeles in 1978 ready to give up and move back home when her agent secures an unusual opportunity as a guest on popular game show “The Dating Game.”

She reluctantly accepts, although when she wanders into the studio for the taping, the smarmy host (Tony Hale) suggests that Cheryl ditch her intelligence in favor of a bimbo persona on-camera to showcase sex appeal. “It was evil and soul-crushing, but I had a little fun,” she admits afterward.

Anyway, she’s lined up opposite three eligible bachelors, one of which is Rodney (Daniel Zovatto), whose face catches the attention of an audience member (Nicolette Robinson) who recognizes him and tries to alert producers backstage.

By that time, moviegoers have already witnessed Rodney’s motive as a serial killer who poses as a fashion photographer while preying upon young women, although his motive remains unclear. Winning a date with the oblivious Cheryl, a brazen and shocking scenario, seems targeted for tragedy.

As showbiz satire, the film captures the period while leaning into cheesy nostalgic quirks. As such, the film juggles its surface laughs with the underlying tension that comes with the audience knowing a dark secret that Cheryl does not.

The nonlinear screenplay by Ian McDonald (Some Freaks) skewers a tawdry entertainment culture during its era that enabled chauvinism, objectification, and predatory behavior.

Structured as parallel character studies, the film struggles to maintain suspense as its narrative momentum wavers. Still, Kendrick’s camera distances itself from the grisliest violence while still making its confrontations feel vivid and disturbing.

Overall, it’s an edgy and assured thriller anchored by Kendrick’s sympathetic balance of strength and vulnerability. Like its title character, Woman of the Hour is smarter and more sophisticated than it first appears.

Rated R, 94 minutes.