“Eileen” opens in theaters on December 1st. This review is part of our coverage of Fantastic Fest 2023.
Beneath Eileen’s smooth surface lies a prickly layer. Screenwriters Luke Goebel and Ottessa Moshfegh (the husband-and-wife team behind Moshfegh’s 2015 novel) use a historically-based love story to confront gender oppression in the 1960s through the eyes of two women, which on the surface seems like a satisfying, inspiring story. Director William Oldroyd then successfully immerses us in a seductive psychological thriller that simmers and simmers like an unobserved cauldron – the clash of secret loves and broken families first uses dark comedy to lower our guard, then hits us with the climax like a punch. . Oldroyd shows great command as a director who turns Trojan Horses into a sensual relationship story about budding sexuality, subverting expectations with a powerful twist.
Thomasin McKenzie plays shy and depressed New Englander Eileen Dunlop, secretary of a boys’ reformatory. It’s clear that Eileen’s buttoned-up lifestyle at work and at home – where she cares for her drunken ex-cop father (Shea Whigham) – hides racier desires: she fantasizes about lewd sexual encounters while on duty. Anne Hathaway plays Harvard psychologist Rebecca, a knockout ready to take down the misogynistic boys’ club at Eileen’s workplace. Rebecca immediately captures Eileen’s attention (and to some extent vice versa), exploring the tangle of historical themes created by Eileen’s forbidden attraction and Rebecca’s unusual independence.
The performances from everyone involved are mesmerizing, especially Mackenzie and Hathaway. Their sensual mentor-mentee chemistry is not afraid to explore healthy sexual appetites as well as attractions based on power and status. Rebecca’s actions raise as many flags as they inspire from Eileen’s perspective, and Hathaway is divine whether she’s punching creepy men lurking in the bar or simply strutting around with the confidence of a ’60s Carrie Bradshaw. McKenzie does an excellent job of displaying enthusiastic enthusiasm in response, which is exactly the kind of blind optimism the film needs to distract the narrative from Oldroyd’s ability to subtly stoke flashes of danger.
Whigham’s portrayal of toxic masculinity in the 60s depicts the typical “bad boy” in Eileen’s life – an alcoholic who abuses the daughter who serves him hand and foot. On paper he is an evil that must be defeated, a bloodline tie holding it back which Whigham lays out like a gun-waving embarrassment who would rather die than confront his emotions. Whigham keeps the negative attention on his character like a magnet, making Rebecca look like a lipstick-wearing saint by comparison. We desperately want to see Eileen’s fairytale rescue from her demoralizing manor, mesmerized by Rebecca’s adorably dominant features as much as innocent little Eileen. And who wouldn’t, given Hathaway’s exceptional presence?
Eileen (the film) is many things, only a few of which Oldroyd wants you to realize until the right moment. The film turns our innate desire to seek hope against us, smuggling in thriller elements under the guise of straight-up romantic drama. You’re captivated by the edginess of 1960s Massachusetts, or laughing at the asinine bosses making crude jokes about Rebecca as if they could ever shoot her, and then, bam: there’s a loaded gun, pointed with fearsome intent. We’re always aware of the play between Rebecca, Eileen and society’s scolding gazes, but Oldroyd is clever in how the story’s nastier tendencies slowly seep through.
There is one not so small problem with Eileen. Moshfegh and Goebel weave in a young woman’s quirky and chaotic attempt to prove herself, but the thrilling third-act twist lacks some oomph. What should be bitterly tense and seismically exciting loses the mysterious edge of earlier storytelling techniques. Rebecca and Eileen’s ambiguous connection has a surprising amount of shock that the film lacks somewhat. This is one of those scenarios where the “chase”, in this case Eileen’s pursuit of Rebecca, is surprisingly more exciting than the reward. Moshfegh and Goebel have a lot to say about obsession, manipulation, and assertion through free thinking, but I feel like the novel fits better with where it all goes.