The male gaze reversed. Our faces screwed up close in crotch shots of men gyrating, dressed in a smart casual nightmare, you know the kind of shit clothes bought for men by their wives or girlfriends or even their mums from a supermarket because they can’t be bothered to fend for themselves. You can smell the whiff of sheriff badge, urine stains on their pants and the smugness of their petty victories at work. There isn’t hatred in this gaze, just pity and contempt for lesser beings posing as the dominant species.
Leathered on leather, slumped like a virgin princess as a sacrifice for these bar dragons, is Cassie (Carey Mulligan as great as she’s ever been), panda eyed and legless. Who says that chivalry is dead? Amongst the reptiles, a Lancelot in shining beige offers her a ride, whether she likes it or not. Conveniently for him his apartment is close by. He plies her with drink, whether she wants it or not. “What are you doing?” she slurs. More than permitted. Her eyes snap open – stone cold sober she demands, “What are you doing?” whether he likes it or not.
Men take stock.
Cassie and her best friend Nina were the most promising young women in med school. Something happened. Male and white. Nina is a spectre, haunting Cassie’s every move, “I was just in awe of her. I couldn’t believe she wanted to be my friend. She didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought apart from me, because she was just… Nina. And then she wasn’t.” Just like Cassie. In her early 20s she was crushing her classes, now in her 30s she’s crushing ice in a coffee shop, sardonic, serving those who colluded, those she rejected.
And at night she takes her measured revenge.
What do the colour-coded diary entries mean? Do some men pass the test? What is the price of failure? Or are all of the colours just varying shades of sleaze? Does a career treating children for cancer buy redemption? This just an aperitif before the opportunity to gorge herself and avenge Nina. On the day-glow surface Cassie’s revenge might resemble a Tarantino/Harlequin mashup, chapters and saucy nurse outfits, but this is the real world where you can become physically as well as mentally destroyed by entitlement (male and female).
Cassie has to tread carefully, her revenge is nuanced and strategic, she has inhabited her namesake for too long, her truth absolute but destined never to be believed. Unless you are forced to live it.
Delayed due to the pandemic, some critics have dismissed “Promising Young Woman” for missing the height of the #MeToo movement (it was written before) a contemporary relic that feels out of step in 2021. Pandemics change a lot of things, but they don’t reset the culture of misogyny overnight. Tell that to the victims of domestic abuse trapped in a third UK lockdown. Cassie isn’t perfect, she wasn’t written that way by writer/director Emerald Fennell, but you know her. Men, you’ve been on a date with her. Did you call her, “a fucking failure” when your nice guy mask slipped? Or did you pass her test?
When Fennell pitched her film, a man in the meeting went silent. She asked if he was okay. “He said, ‘Yeah, I’m just thinking through every date I’ve ever been on.’”