Women Talking is a film about survival. Written and directed by Sarah Polley (and Oscar-nominated for Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture), it’s based on the book of the same name by Miriam Toews, which is based, in turn, on true events. It follows the women of an isolated Mennonite community that has been rocked by a series of violent rapes. While the men are gone, they must vote on their next course of action—do nothing, stay in their community and fight for themselves, or leave and start a new life away from the dangers posed to them at home. The events of the film unfold within a matter of hours and center on the group of women making this decision. It’s fraught with tension and discord, but one thing is agreed upon very quickly: they will not do nothing. The question, then, becomes fragmented, as issues of faith, family, and community are considered in conjunction with the topic at hand. Women Talking is not afraid of gray area; in fact, it shines in its moments of contradiction. Every woman has suffered, and their unique traumas inform their arguments in ways that become increasingly poignant as the film progresses. There is no single right answer or correct approach to the conversation.
Watching the film, I was impressed by the delicate balance Polley strikes between the personalities that dominate her film. She sets her performers on a near-theatrical stage, giving them very little to interact with but each other. The most important thing—the only important thing—is what these women have to say. Conversation flows organically through the film, and every excellent member of the cast has a moment in the spotlight. We are given characters to dislike and characters to root for, but I left the theater understanding and feeling for each one of them. Amidst the seriousness of the topic at hand, Polley generates a genuine sense of family within her ensemble. There are mothers and sisters and daughters, but a farther-reaching connection as well, shading the film with generational import. The safety of the community’s children is at the forefront of the discussion. We see them, playing outside in the sun and on the edges of the conversation, giggling amongst themselves and braiding each other’s hair—being young and unaware of just how touched by darkness their lives are. The women of this film fight for themselves, but also for the next generation, for whom they wish better lives.
It’s a heavy film, difficult to watch at times, but Polley remains tasteful in her discussions and depictions of assault. She never shows us explicitly what occurred, which I was grateful for—it’s never the most important element. What we see instead, and what really does matter, is the effect that these attacks have had on the women. We see the heart-wrenching aftermath, the anger and grief that follow them, but never the perpetrators of these attacks. It’s a film exclusively about survivors and surviving. We’ve been led to believe that we cannot tell stories about rape without showing it, and that our understanding of trauma is reliant on our seeing its source. Polley disproves this easily, evoking empathy and capturing authentic trauma without resorting to gratuitous scenes of assault. She recenters the narrative upon the people who matter.
Women Talking is exactly what it says on the tin, which is exactly what we need to see. Sarah Polley has made a film that deals sensitively with the trauma of sexual assault without glorifying or sensationalizing it. It’s not at all about the event or the perpetrators—it centers survivors in their own story.
A note: As I mentioned, this is a thematically dark film. While there are no explicit scenes of assault, discussions of resulting trauma and depictions of the aftermath may be difficult to watch. Please take care of yourself and view with caution.
Anna Schwartz
Hi! I’m Anna, and I’m studying English at the University of Minnesota–Twin Cities. I joined Survivors to Superheroes in order to help create a space for survivors to speak without fear of being spoken over. As an editor, my goal is to help survivors tell their stories on their own terms and in their own words. I hope that our authors can find freedom and empowerment through writing, as I so often have. In my spare time, you’ll find me baking (and eating) bread, watching bad movies, and singing as loudly as I can without incurring the wrath of my roommates.
