Promising Young Woman

Director: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bo Burnham, Alison Brie, Clancy Brown, Jennifer Coolidge, Laverne Cox, Chris Lowell, Connie Britton, Adam Brody, Max Greenfield, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Sam Richardson, Alfred Molina, Molly Shannon
Running Time: 113 min.
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

To say that Emerald Fennell's revenge thriller Promising Young Woman is about someone who does bad things for the right reasons would feel like engaging in the same double talk excuse-making that plagues the "nice guy" would-be rapists its title character terrorizes. A more accurate assessment of one the year's absolute best and most thought-provoking films would describe it as being about accountability. It scares us to death into being better, holding its mirror up to a society assuming they've done enough and can't be bothered by the fact that they really haven't done anything at all. 

Squashing any preconceived notions about an issue we thought we've examined every facet of over the past two years, it throws those prejudices back in our faces with nihilistic, venomous glee. A surface-level reading the film's antagonistic protagonist would have some mistaking her for kind of a female Dexter, replacing retribution for serial killers with rapists. And yet this tramples over that buzzy oversimplification to deliver a story that cuts much deeper, complete with a pitch black satirical slant. 

While damaged, this isn't a character who murders or maims, with all questions concerning her potentially fragile mental state circling back to a single trauma from the past that feeds an obsessive motivation. Despite a plot built around such an explosive character, the film's greatest trick is that this isn't necessarily a study in her behavior, but rather those she targets. It's all about them, and ultimately us. Or really anyone who, if maybe not directly the perpetrator, could have found themselves in a situation where laughing things off or ignoring them altogether proved to be an escape hatch from its actual ramifications. 

If complicity comes in many different forms, the scariest realization is that we may never truly know anyone. That's not news, but how writer, actress and first-time feature director Fennell's script meticulously builds her case twist-by-twist before knocking the wind out of you in its closing minutes is. Like the mesmerizing lead performance carrying it, the film's fearless in refusing to pull any punches before arriving at a complex destination that's far from inevitable considering what came before. Stylish and beautifully constructed, it doesn't only give you something to think about following the credits, but provokes genuine discomfort and even outrage at having such thoughts. Whatever they may be.

Cassandra "Cassie" Thomas (Carey Mulligan) is 30-year-old woman living with her parents (Clancy Brown and Jennifer Coolidge) in Ohio after having dropped out of medical school years earlier due to an incident involving her best friend Nina. Now working at a coffee shop, she spends her nights at clubs pretending to be drunk to bait guys into taking her home, where they inevitably try to take advantage of the situation before she reveals her sobriety. 

As the reasoning behind Cassie's dangerous game starts to come into focus, her insulated world is temporarily turned upside down after a chance encounter with former classmate and pediatric surgeon Ryan Cooper (Bo Burnham), whom she eventually starts dating. Cassie's emerging feelings for him seem to conflict with news that a hated ex-classmate, Alexander "Al" Monroe (Chris Lowell) is recently engaged to be married. 

The mere mention of Al's name is an immediate trigger for Cassie, prompting her to embark on an intricate revenge plan involving multiple people entwined in a morally corrupt, misogynistic system that failed Nina and sent both fleeing from med school. As Cassie exacts revenge on those who wronged them, the idea of having actually met a good guy in Ryan could present the possibility of a future she gave up on having years ago. To embrace that, she'll need to let go of these revenge fantasies and an anger that's consumed her since the incident. But given the full nature of what happened and its lingering long-term impact, that could prove impossible. 

The film announces what it is right away, as a seemingly drunk Cassie lures her first victim in, if only he were actually a "victim" or even "lured." The young, outwardly affable businessman (played by Adam Brody) could be better categorized as the victimizer, or worse. He's just one of the unsuspecting marks Fennell brilliantly manipulates us into hanging our hats on by reconceptualizing the "nice guy" facade they've adopted to define themselves. Lulling us into considering they wouldn't dare take advantage of a barely conscious young woman without a ride home, how surprised or disappointed viewers are with the results goes a long way in confirming a certain level of pre-existing cynicism and awareness. Already an old pro at this, Cassie's ten steps ahead, complete with a personal scorecard that consistently yields a similar, if not identical, outcome each time. 

Never doubting that these guys have any other intention but to rape her, she's often alarmingly right, with one creep (played by Superbad's Christopher Mintz Plasse) going so far as to premptively victim-shame her before he can even get started. What they all have in common is the terrified looks on their faces when she reveals the con and exposes them for who they really are. Once confronted with her sobriety, they back off immediately, cowering in fear, suggesting she's really in this for that moment, knowing her actions could have just prevented it from happening again. Some want to run, others throw out excuses, but the upper hand is now hers in a power dynamic that's jarringly shifted.  

The script doesn't glide over Cassie's obvious issues, but the deeper understanding we get of the event that drove her here makes it easier for us to wrap our heads around the behavior. But it's still wrecklessly dangerous as she continuously places herself in harm's way to avenge a crime that can never be adjudicated or erased, having already caused irrecovable trauma. The arrival of Ryan into her orbit is when the material effortlessly alternates between some darker elements and a courtship that's enormously entertaining enough to stand on its own as a romantic comedy.

Fennell is so good at handling everything involving this relationship, as Cassie's walls gradually and believably start to crumble to the point that we think she may finally be able to turn the page on the grief that's emotionally paralyzed her. And we're rooting hard for it, while nervously dreading that a few potentially devastating scenarios could play out to derail it. Among them is the possibility Ryan ucovers her nightime hobby, isn't the true "nice guy" he seems or she's secretly targeting him next, playing some kind of long con in the hopes of exposing something.

While all of this adds an undercurrent of tension to every interaction, the chemistry between Mulligan and Burnham is such that we actually don't want any of these unsettling scenarios to come to fruition. The latter, better known as a comedian and director of 2018's critically acclaimed Eighth Grade, is especially good, conveying a geeky, self-depricating sense of humor that chips away at Cassie's defenses.

The idea that those who harm in the past rarely go away and are frequently incapable of significant change makes Cassie's work easier than it should be. Al's the ultimate end game in terms of her vengeance, but as she moves down the list, the enablers come off just as badly. Alison Brie as a stuck-up former classmate and Connie Britton as the University Dean are such realistically written and performed characters in terms of their normalized obliviousness. Exhibiting familar, if hypocritical behavior, they haven't a care in the world unless they're pushed, and something's on the line. For them, of course. 

Cassie exposes all their malfeasances and self-deception in a manner mirroring what she does with the aspiring rapists, refusing to draw the line between the actual act and those who stand by facilitating it. Given the stakes, even those wrestling with the morality of her methods would likely agree it's a message that badly needed to be delivered. Her encounter with a damaged lawyer (played by Alfred Molina) plays far differently, Cassie's reaction suggest she's playing with a fuller deck than initially suspected and there are certain lines that won't be be crosssed.

Despite the silly controversy that's arisen involving Carey Mulligan's looks as it relates to her qualifications for the role, the fact she's playing so agressively against her perceived screen persona only works to the material's favor. Usually more associated with period dramas, she enters the story as underestimated as her wild character, frequently framed in and surrounded by bright rainbow colors by cinematographer Benjamin Kračun as to contrast sharply with the story's inherent darkness. There are a lot of creative landmines for Mulligan to navigate to in terms of tone and intent, but she responds with her strongest ever work, reflecting in Cassie someone that's borne from tragedy, but cemented in a sadness and anger overlooked by those to whom she's closest, which are few. Alternating between observant girl-next-door and extroverted vixen, she carries the character's messy history on her shoulders, and as a result, the entire film.

When it's time to enter the lion's den and come face-to-face with the toxic jock bro she's been waiting years to destroy, Cassie comes prepared. Everything that happens in this movie's polarizing last act is shocking, but with an accompanying method to its madness. While the numbers game puts her in as serious danger, it's gone too far for her to turn back now, not that she'd even consider that. What actually goes down at the cabin bachelor party is jaw-dropping, but it's the fallout that gives Fennell's film its poisonous aftertaste, connecting all its dots in the most sensational of ways. All of it culminates in a revelatory closing sequence where you can almost literally hear the sound of a book closing or the last knot being tightly tied as the camera pans out.

All the praise heaped upon these final few minutes should extend past the editing and performances to also include the soundtrack. Often, the mark of truly great uses of popular songs in movies can be defined by a feeling that you've just heard it for the first time regardless of how frequently it's previously been played elsewhere. We get such a needle drop here, with a throwback tune that perfectly and ironically caps the moment, further enhancing the action it's juxtaposed against. It's such an ideal fit you'd figure it was written exactly for this scene, and unlikely to be heard the same way again. There's another more recent mainstream pop selection that makes a memorable karaoke cameo earlier on, but the closer is in a class by itself, marking one of many elements Fennell seamlessly harnesses to establish this nasty, confrontational experience as so much more than the mere sum of its parts.   

This would make for a great double feature with 2020's other provocative #MeToo drama, The Assistant, which could have easily been mistaken for a documentary given how raw and emotionlessly it depicted a similarly abusive environment. Tone-wise, they definitely don't match, but categorizing both under the same hashtag might be selling each short, reducing them to a very specific movement. It's never explicitly stated when the events here take place, and while the technology heavily implies present day, there's a timelessness to the proceedings and surroundings that force you to do a double take, speculating how a similar concept could have played out in the 80's or 90's. Or more pertinently, what the reaction would have been. Too full of jagged edges and black humor to be preaching anything, Promising Young Woman lets its scenario, and all the despicably flawed figures involved, speak for itself. And in doing that it becomes an outlier amongst socially concious thrillers by transcending the era for which it's made to become a stinging indictment on humanity as a whole.