Amidst all the disagreements and clashes, what shines through is their unwavering dedication to reasoned choices, forged through the filters of morality, religion, and a core goodness that propels their course of action. A pivotal line, from Rooney Mara’s character, Ona, 'Always moving, never fighting, always moving,' carries weight beyond words for me. It's a profound anti-violence plea that tugs at something deeper.

[SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT]

Enter the grand stage, the depiction of the greatest Beta male of all time. I only say this jokingly, only to grab the attention of those predictably rolling their eyes at the inclusion of this movie on my list. 

In all seriousness, I'm referring to the character, August, played by Ben Wishaw, whose presence in the movie is a useful juxtaposition to the powerful voice of the primary characters who are women.

August is the only man portrayed in the whole movie. He is the meager wallflower and notetaker. The way they made him admirable but just the side piece of the movie was great.

I’ll get more into this later.

What really intrigued me the most about this movie was how it unraveled as an intricate debate, a tussle between women seamlessly guided by collective logic. It's like a masterclass in governance. 

How can a group of individuals come to a collective decision on what is best for their community in the face of a huge problem?

Related Reading: Jessie Buckley, Claire Foy, Entire Cast Devastate with the Dialogue in Women Talking

Amidst all the disagreements and clashes, what shines through is their unwavering dedication to reasoned choices, forged through the filters of morality, religion, and a core goodness that propels their course of action.

Beneath the surface ripples an overarching understanding of the unspeakable atrocities inflicted upon them and in some cases, their children. 

The plot, for those who don’t know, takes place within a Mennonite community (trigger warning - it involves the aftermath of rape and is a very hard watch). It’s based on a true story. 

A group of men of the community have been drugging women and girls of the community as they sleep at night, and raping them. For years, the women were told their bruises and bleeding and devastation that they awake to were the attacks from evil spirits in the night.

The movie hones in on the aftermath, the juncture when life changes irrevocably due to the terrifying actions of another. It's a relentless march, an incessant journey forward. 

A pivotal line, from Rooney Mara’s character, Ona, "Always moving, never fighting, always moving," carries weight beyond words for me. It's a profound anti-violence plea that tugs at something deeper, something many people, specifically men like me, might struggle to fully comprehend.

This movie is a brave exploration into the consequences of dangerous men and teenage boys, who operate without a firm moral compass, devoid of the conscious restraint that keeps their primal instincts in check. The absence of proper guidance, of a channel to funnel their emotions, can be a ticking time bomb.

Amid this dynamic, our so-called Beta male, August, enters the picture. In my humble opinion, he epitomizes the embodiment of a true man, embracing kindness and exhibiting the apt response needed to support the women’s reckoning. 

In this situation, it's about shutting up, offering support, lending a listening ear. And literally taking notes.

And then, just when you expect a grand gesture as the women decide their final decision to leave the colony, he raises his hand to deliver a final statement, only to retract it saying, "It doesn't matter." 

When I was watching, as his hand raised to get a final word in, I felt a glimmer of disappointment. Then when he retracted and decided to say nothing, I gave a silent applause to Sarah Polley, the director. 

This move by Sarah Polley gracefully sidesteps the cliché of a white or male savior swooping in to steal the last word, almost to approve everything that just happened. It happens a lot in modern stories of minority uprising.

The film's visual narrative maintains a compelling pace, weaving through the dialogues with a sense of urgency, skillfully building tension. 

My big brother, a movie connoisseur and a director himself, once told me about a filmmaking tactic that essentially involves filmmakers purposefully withholding showing certain details of an action or event, requiring the viewer to fill in the gaps themselves. 

In this film, the decision to not depict violent crimes serves a dual purpose: preventing gratuitous and sensationalized violence, while also underscoring the profound devastation it leaves behind. 

By abstaining from explicit depiction, the audience is compelled to confront the violence alongside its consequential trauma. The approach encourages viewers to grapple with the aftermath and envision the unsettling acts, often evoking a more intense response than direct on-screen portrayal.

Overall, I rate this film 9.2/10.

Please enjoy one of my favorite scenes from the movie: