Anna Kendrick has long made a name for herself as Hollywood’s jester, starring in now-classic films like Pitch Perfect, A Simple Favor and Twilight (although even she has forgotten that one).

But in her directorial debut, Woman of the Hour, Kendrick convincingly ditches her comedic charm for something much darker – and it usually pays off.

Based on a true story, Woman of the Hour tells the disturbing story of how serial rapist and murderer Rodney Alcala managed to appear on and win the hit 1970s game show, The Dating Game, in the middle of a killing spree. His count? As many as 130 victims, mainly women.

But Kendrick’s film isn’t just about rehashing the crimes of a notorious killer. Instead, it uses this shocking backdrop to interrogate the pervasive misogyny and sexism of the time – and sadly, little has changed today.

Kendrick plays Sheryl Bradshaw (not to be confused with the real-life Cheryl Bradshaw), the leading lady who came face to face with Alcala in The Dating Game and even chose him as her last date. Adopting a non-linear narrative format, we jump between the fake dating show and Alcala’s interactions with his victims, heralded by a charismatically creepy Daniel Zovatto.

From the opening scene it is clear: Alcala is evil. But Kendrick isn’t just focused on that. Woman of the Hour explores the dangers of simply being a woman.

A line that will resonate with many women comes when a makeup artist on the set of The Dating Game gives Sheryl some blunt advice: “No matter what words they use, the question underneath the question remains the same… which one of you will hurt .” me?”

Visually, the film is drenched in warm ’70s tones and cicada-infused soundscapes, but Kendrick is careful not to glorify the violence. There is no unnecessary brutality. Instead, it’s all about suggestion: a subtle shift in expression, a close-up of clothing, a meticulous set design – all conscious choices to respect the women at the heart of the story.

But at times the film struggles to figure out which tonal path it wants to take. In one scene, Kendrick injects some of her signature humor, throwing quick jokes at her potential bachelorettes and quizzing them about theories of relativity. While entertaining, it feels out of sync and shifts from a tense feminist thriller to bubbly “girlboss” style dialogue that takes you out of the moment, leaving the film confused as to what it wants to be.

This is where Woman of the Hour doesn’t quite land: at times she prioritizes clever one-liners over fully developed characters or a coherent story. The non-linear structure doesn’t help either, making the film feel scattered and fragmented. But when Kendrick leans into the darker material, it’s a home run.

A standout scene takes place after the show, when Sheryl reluctantly agrees to have a drink with Alcala. As the discomfort grows between them, Sheryl quietly signals to the bartender not to bring her another round, spoofs her phone number and walks to her car in the dark, knowing Alcala is right behind her, watching her every move holds.

Kendrick’s performance here is nothing short of masterful, with visceral tension and fear oozing from the screen. It’s this depiction of the everyday dangers women face that the film really excels at: the fear of walking alone at night; the constant self-doubt about whether that feeling is paranoia or instinct; the silent safety calculations women make without even realizing it.

Although it occasionally struggles to balance feminist criticism with traditional thriller tropes, Kendrick’s message is clear: the threat to women is not limited to dark alleys or serial killers – it is present in seemingly mundane interactions, woven into the way on which women move through the world. always alert.

Despite the occasional missteps, Woman of the Hour is a bold and fearless debut for Kendrick, proving she’s capable of much more than comedy. Maybe it’s time for her to ditch the funny bone altogether.

Woman of the Hour is now streaming on Netflix.