Based on a bizarre true story, Woman of the Hour follows Cheryl (Anna Kendrick), a struggling actor, and Rodney (Daniel Zovatto), a serial killer, as they participate in a dating game show. Part of the film is about the tense cat-and-mouse chase that happens between the two, but other parts are less tight. There are flashbacks and flashforwards to Rodney’s other exploits, as well as a subplot about one of the victim's friends seeking justice. Then underlying everything is a potent message about the misogyny that ran rampant in the 1970s. Feminism is supposed to be the throughline that ties everything together, but an imbalance in tone and a clumsy attempt to jam as many stories as possible results in a film that feels sorely undone. It’s admirable that Kendrick, who’s made her directorial debut with this movie, has decentered the focus from the serial killer to the female victims. I’ve had about enough of true crime outings romanticizing the killer. Kendrick is a promising director to be sure. But if only the narrative were tighter, then the film could’ve been memorable, too, instead of just meaningful.

Zovatto is effectively sleazy. I wish more serial killers were depicted this way. Why some directors (*cough Ryan Murphy*) insist on their innate charm is beyond me.