WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

This is a story about a 30-year-old woman who works as a barista by day and pretends to be drunk in bars by night to lure and subsequently “punish” lustful men. The film received numerous Oscar nominations, including for “Best Picture.” Written by “Killing Eve” writer Emerald Fennell, the film is styled in the “rape and revenge” subgenre, popularized during the #MeToo era, yet it significantly differs from its peers. Firstly, it’s neither horror nor clearly a thriller. Even the final “revenge” scene against the man who assaulted her best friend (presumably leading to her friend’s suicide after a public rape), shot in a long take and intended to discomfort viewers, doesn’t redeem the situation.

The issue stems from the chosen narrative tone and blatant tastelessness flooding the viewers’ senses throughout the film. Instead of overt aggression typical for heroines in similar stories, Fennell opts for passive aggression, introducing something genuinely new to the exploitation subgenre of female revenge films. However, there’s a significant “but”: it’s absurdly ridiculous.

The final blow to the credibility of events depicted comes from the caricature-like obnoxiousness of virtually every male character. Such an approach makes the drama difficult to take seriously, especially when it’s dressed in flashy, nauseating tones. This stark contrast between the protagonist’s inner world and the surrounding reality fails utterly, amplifying the absurdity.

Many directors pay special attention to their films’ opening scenes, and Fennell is no exception. Her film opens with a disco scene featuring overweight middle-aged men awkwardly gyrating their bellies, hips, and thighs in slow motion to Charli XCX’s “Boys.” The camera’s position at waist level emphasizes this spectacle. Then, the close-up shifts to a wide shot without slow motion, revealing a rather dull scene of a few drunken people sluggishly dancing in a club. This opening scene sets the tone for the entire movie: superficial satire underscored by an ironic soundtrack of pop hits from various eras.

Just as the protagonist deceives men by pretending to be drunk, Fennell deceives viewers through visual techniques. Initially effective, her intentions soon become evident, clearly signaling what to expect from the male characters.

The first hint that we won’t be watching a classical “rape and revenge” comes early in the film. In a scene where Carey Mulligan’s character walks down the street, the camera moves from her bare feet, stained with red liquid, upwards to a white shirt similarly stained, stopping at her face. Here, we realize she is sloppily devouring a hot dog, and the red stains are not blood but ketchup. The scene is set against DeathbyRomy’s cover of The Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men.”

Fennell extensively uses music as an element of post-irony. For example, when Cassandra meets her future boyfriend Ryan (Bo Burnham), Donna Missal’s cover of “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby” by Cigarettes After Sex plays in the background. Ryan is introduced as the nicest possible guy, an impression reinforced visually by his clothing color. Ryan frequently wears blue shades, symbolizing calmness, safety, seriousness, and loyalty — all qualities Cassandra lacks. Naturally, Ryan eventually disappoints, as it is revealed he witnessed and thus was complicit in the assault on Nina, Cassandra’s friend.

In her attempt to mislead the audience, Fennell cleverly mocks romantic comedies. Recalling Cassandra and Ryan’s initial encounter, viewers see a classic rom-com trope known as “meet cute,” where the protagonists meet under charming or humorous circumstances. Cassandra spitting in Ryan’s coffee, and his humorous reaction perfectly fit this trope. This interaction is typically followed in rom-coms by a fight and then reconciliation, which leads to the couple enjoying happy moments together.

Through music, Fennell not only adds an ironic touch to the events but also mirrors them directly. For instance, in the film’s finale, as Cassandra heads to a bachelor party disguised as a stripper, Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” arranged in strings by composer Anthony Willis, plays ominously. The eerie and dark rendition of this early 2000s pop hit hints to viewers that Cassandra’s visit to a house full of men won’t end well. The song’s title, “Toxic,” reflects the contents of Cassandra’s bottle, which, as we later discover, contains sedatives intended for the guests. Moreover, Cassandra’s vivid makeup and neon-colored hair make her resemble a salamander, an animal known for its passive toxicity.

Besides previously mentioned shades of blue, pink frequently appears throughout the film. It’s abundant — almost excessively so — and associated explicitly with Cassandra. Pink dominates her wardrobe, surrounding items, the apartment where she lives with her parents, and even the opening credits and text messages sent by Cassandra from others’ phones. Pink traditionally symbolizes femininity, joy, and kindness, starkly contrasting Cassandra’s inner world filled with a thirst for revenge for her friend.

Cassandra primarily frightens men by suggesting potential consequences for their actions, such as the risk of losing their masculinity to scissors wielded by another woman who similarly pretends to be drunk in bars. Her aggression becomes overt just once, when she vandalizes someone’s pickup truck at an intersection. The film thus embodies the philosophy that harassment inevitably gets punished, often unexpectedly for the perpetrator. The real-world example of Harvey Weinstein, once a powerful film producer, provides direct evidence of this idea.

To punish her friend’s primary assailant, Cassandra resorts to extreme measures — her own suicide (the unfastened handcuff was certainly no accident). She chooses this because, after discovering Ryan’s betrayal, she loses hope for a normal, happy life. Additionally, her death is the only way to dismantle the seemingly perfect lives of those responsible for Nina’s death, timed ironically with a wedding. Cassandra spares only the remorseful lawyer, giving him a chance for redemption by advocating for victims.

Cassandra’s sacrifice for justice is visually reinforced by Fennell portraying her as a saintly figure. The film is replete with explicit references to Jesus Christ on the cross, even providing Cassandra with a symbolic halo in a coffee shop scene.

The core problem with Fennell’s film is the overly blunt and obtrusive manner of presenting its otherwise effective techniques. This direct, overly literal approach completely eliminates suspense and immersion. Interestingly, the film itself highlights this issue. For example, Cassandra’s parents, eager for her to grow up and live independently, gift her a suitcase on her birthday (guess the color). Cassandra later sarcastically remarks, “That’s the most stylish metaphor for ‘get the hell out of the house’ I’ve ever seen.” Here, “most stylish” is clearly sarcasm.

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