She said it was a review – IGN

Heya Saeed will appear in theaters on November 18, 2022.

Ms. Said traced the genesis of one of the most remarkable stories of the modern media: The New York Times Report Detailing the allegations against Harvey Weinstein, the first Dominoes to fall into a global (and still ongoing) account dealing with abuse of power. It’s also a retelling of this fable and at times eerie, half-baked journalism kind of like a proxy story where it seems to have been decided, at some point in the filmmaking process, that there should be a mere detail of facts and chronology to suffice. Then again, perhaps this assumption gives a lot of control and lends a lot of intent to the projects for their creators. While they seem to know exactly what events were vital to this historical hotspot, they have neither the skill nor the insight to communicate that vitality.

Written by Rebecca Linkewicz, it follows real-life Times journalist Megan Toohy (Carrie Mulligan) and Judy Kantor (Zoe Kazan) as they attempt to uncover stories of sexual abuse during Weinstein’s tenure at Miramax, but the film is most effective when neither Tothy nor Kantor is her focus — and that Rarely, because it is based in part on their book, she said: Breaking the sexual harassment story that helped spark the movement. The film begins with a brief introduction set in the early ’90s, when a young production assistant with starry eyes begins her career on a cut set of the Weinstein period, before director Maria Schrader invents a later scene for the industry. Hope runs through the streets, tears roll down her face, as she leaves her dreams behind. It’s a stunningly powerful image that creates a narrative puzzle, the answers of which we widely know, but whose details are up for discovery. It’s also the last time She Said featured anything resembling a touching human drama.

Fast forward to 2016, and the allegations against Donald Trump surfaced. Fast forward a bit, and these allegations failed to prevent him from being elected President of the United States. Fast forward even further into early 2017, and a Times report against Fox News host Bill O’Reilly got him off the air. Fast forward again and the story finally begins, with an uneasy foundation laid. Tohey, who is pregnant, and Cantor, a working mother, live in a world where this kind of account is on people’s tongues, but the film fails to root the above events in the two women’s personal narratives, in any real emotional sense. These things happened. Donald Trump was elected despite being debunked, seen as an institutional failure, but that failure presumes more than his connection to Twohey or Kantor, and the way they see the world.

What unfolds from that point onward is less of a dramatic story and more of a narrative, often at a distance. When the duo join forces and convince their editors to let them follow the leads, clues are introduced that flow (or are discovered) largely in a coherent fashion, with scenes that start and end mechanically. Emotional information long enough to make it significant (the movie is almost afraid of committing to emotional moments, and shy away from close-ups the second they reach their dramatic climax). Some sources are less frank than others, often out of fear of reprisals, but the growing paranoia surrounding the story does not permeate She Said’s aesthetic fabric. The characters talk about being stalked, threatening, or feeling like walls are approaching, but those are just words; a All the president’s men this is not. The audience might be intended to believe or not without the need for persuasive art – it would certainly fit the story, at least in theory – but in this case, why make a movie at all, when the information is already there?

Mulligan’s conception of Twohey is an ongoing saving grace, preventing She Said from tripping over herself (more than she already does). She comes as a lost soul seeking forgiveness, both from her postpartum depression after childbirth, and from that aforementioned perpetual sense of structural failure, in which women become permanent victims, permanently silenced. She portrays a perpetual sense of working in very difficult circumstances, even in scenes where she matches the wits of Weinstein’s surprisingly incoming attorney (Peter Friedman), but apart from the feelings Mulligan strains herself to connect with the larger story, she’s not really concerned with Twohey’s motherhood struggles from As it relates to her story of femininity.

They occasionally exchange notes about motherhood with Cantor, who at one point faces the difficult task of explaining to her daughter the nature of the story she’s investigating, but these are just background details left floating in the ether without telling the rest of the novel. . Rare are the moments when She Said folds the emblems of femininity into her stories about women—particularly those of victims like Laura Madden (Jennifer Ell) and Zelda Perkins (Samantha Morton), who convince the duo to speak up.

When it’s time to finally click publish, the world-changing effects of Touhy’s and Cantor’s work are left to the imagination.

To make things even weirder, she has an inconsistent comic relationship and boundaries with celebrities. Most of the journalists in the story remain anonymous to the public, and most of the victims who worked behind the scenes on Miramax aren’t immediately identifiable either, so they all play different capable actors, but things get thorny when attention is distracted. Elderly Ashley Judd appears as herself, while every other household name (presumably, those who didn’t agree to appear) are left out of the frame, to the point of absurdity. Early on, Trump appears as a free-spirited voice on the phone, played by comedian and impressionist James Austin Johnson, which makes you wonder how serious the movie is. Gwyneth Paltrow is constantly in the story, but her scenes are all about her voice and physical presence. Actors who impersonate Weinstein and actress Rose McGowan do so commendably – ignoring the fact that Weinstein’s short, semi-mysterious appearance, at a crucial moment, is sure to elicit laughs – but this constant need to hint at iconic characters without fully portraying them steals key scenes from the heft dramatic. This is especially true when Kantor is the one talking to them, because Kazan (an otherwise capable actress) is often burdened with disturbing thoughts and a broad caricature of a noble hero.

On the other hand, scenes focused on Madden and Perkins’ testimonies are very engaging, thanks to Ellie and Morton’s stunning performances as women who have always buried their traumas, but whose collective time amounts to a pocket change. The moment the screen undoes the non-dynamic duo, it resumes its sense of lethargy and abandoned conclusions. The only time Said is as attractive or profoundly accurate as the snap clip in her opening scene is during the brief moments when real recordings of Weinstein’s unwanted sexual orientations are played out, via chilling footage from uncharted hotel corridors — any of which could have been a scene. These crimes – but the fact that the few moments in which human faces appear is an indictment in itself.

Worst of all, when it comes time to finally click Publish, the world-changing influences of Toohy and Cantor’s work are left to the imagination, if only because, with one brief exception, the film fails to portray what it really means for people to finally get a chance to speak. By contrast, a much simpler film like The Assistant, which similarly unfolds in Weinstein’s setting without being filmed or even named, laser-focused on the emotional and psychological impact of living in a world made by men, of men, and succeeding without the need for any character to improvise. Its “importance” is self-evident (not to mention deeply felt), while She Said’s importance is assumed and expected.

#review #IGN

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *