C+Directed by Olivia Wilde Starring Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, and Chris Pine Review by Jon Kissel |  |
Hollywood has long made movies about the odd lives of American suburbia, from Douglas Sirk to Sam Mendes. There’s lots to critique about the whole arrangement, wherein a country that supposedly prides itself on individuality plagued with homeowner’s associations. Plenty of directors have taken their crack at the claustrophic conformity of lawns and fences and 2.3 children, and Olivia Wilde is in good company with her second feature, Don’t Worry Darling. A Stepford Wives for the 2020’s, the story of Wilde’s film was taken over by behind-the-scenes gossip, but beneath all the Zapruder-style videos about whether or not Harry Styles spit on Chris Pine at Cannes is a respectable psychodrama and a creative swerve from a director coming off raunchy and riotous teen comedy Booksmart. Don’t Worry Darling isn’t topping the Far From Heavens of the world, but it does spark a desire to go back and watch Mad Men for a second helping of this time period.
Set in an underdeveloped midcentury Western state, Don’t Worry Darling exists within the planned communities of postwar America. A company town created to service some kind of top-secret technological project, Victory, California is all ranch houses and cul-de-sacs, attended to by doting, perfectly coiffed wives sending their besuited husbands off to work in their shiny Cadillac convertibles, all laboring for the acclaim of project leader Frank (Pine). One of these couples, Alice (Florence Pugh) and Jack (Styles), are madly in love, with Alice maintaining a perfect home in between ballet class and poolside lunches with the neighbors. The outlier in the neighborhood is Margaret (Kiki Layne), who’s going through a mental health crisis after the loss of her son. Her erratic behavior combines with strange occurrences to put doubt in Alice’s mind. Soon, she’s experiencing hallucinations of her own and questioning Frank’s cultlike grip on the community. Jack assures her that everything’s fine, but Alice can’t shake her uncertainty.
Don’t Worry Darling has only so many avenues it can go down, and the isolation of Victory implies fewer still. This is one of those films that rests heavily on third act reveals, and where Katie Silberman’s, Carey Van Dyke’s, and Shane Van Dyke’s script lands successfully evokes the present day in their period drama. The script exists less for its taut plotting than for the quickly apparent reason why this movie was made when it was. Twists notwithstanding, Wilde pulls off both the choreographed uniformity of the neighborhood and Alice’s creeping dread. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique borrows from his earlier work on Black Swan, another story of psychological decomposition that featured ballerinas. There’s a horror influence here in how the eye is drawn to the thing that doesn’t quite fit, a visual representation of the setting’s classic theme. It’s a handsome package, meticulously fussed over like a housewife with a feather duster.
Wilde’s greatest coup is getting Pugh in the lead. An eminently watchable actor, Pugh carries the entire film. Alice’s perspective dominates, with all but a couple scenes taking place from her view, and there are few young performers with more onscreen charisma than her. She gives a full-body performance, selling how her mind and body are rebelling against her surroundings. Her most effective onscreen partner is Pine, Mephistophelian in how he’s manipulating the proceedings. In a rare antagonist performance from this classic leading man, Pine makes the most of his opportunity. Plenty of others are given the chance to shine, with Don’t Worry Darling being the first time I’ve liked Layne and Gemma Chan, playing Frank’s wife. Wilde also gets meta in how she casts the neighborhood men, with the likes of Nick Kroll, Timothy Simons, and Doug Smith as the local masters of the universe. Styles is the outlier, stuck between English and American accents and unable to match what Pugh’s laying down. Wilde sticks him in an absurd mid-film dance scene that feels like she’s letting off steam. This guy’s been lowering the cast’s collective output, I’ll make him tap dance for a, awkwardly long time.
Don’t Worry Darling is melodramatic popcorn fun with an amount of unfulfilled potential. There’s a better film here, but it ends up being too obvious in what it’s saying and too mysterious in how it gets there. This is a step down from Booksmart for Wilde, but not such a dramatic one that she’s disallowed from taking many more shots. Maybe just stay away from the pop stars next time. C+
Don’t Worry Darling has only so many avenues it can go down, and the isolation of Victory implies fewer still. This is one of those films that rests heavily on third act reveals, and where Katie Silberman’s, Carey Van Dyke’s, and Shane Van Dyke’s script lands successfully evokes the present day in their period drama. The script exists less for its taut plotting than for the quickly apparent reason why this movie was made when it was. Twists notwithstanding, Wilde pulls off both the choreographed uniformity of the neighborhood and Alice’s creeping dread. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique borrows from his earlier work on Black Swan, another story of psychological decomposition that featured ballerinas. There’s a horror influence here in how the eye is drawn to the thing that doesn’t quite fit, a visual representation of the setting’s classic theme. It’s a handsome package, meticulously fussed over like a housewife with a feather duster.
Wilde’s greatest coup is getting Pugh in the lead. An eminently watchable actor, Pugh carries the entire film. Alice’s perspective dominates, with all but a couple scenes taking place from her view, and there are few young performers with more onscreen charisma than her. She gives a full-body performance, selling how her mind and body are rebelling against her surroundings. Her most effective onscreen partner is Pine, Mephistophelian in how he’s manipulating the proceedings. In a rare antagonist performance from this classic leading man, Pine makes the most of his opportunity. Plenty of others are given the chance to shine, with Don’t Worry Darling being the first time I’ve liked Layne and Gemma Chan, playing Frank’s wife. Wilde also gets meta in how she casts the neighborhood men, with the likes of Nick Kroll, Timothy Simons, and Doug Smith as the local masters of the universe. Styles is the outlier, stuck between English and American accents and unable to match what Pugh’s laying down. Wilde sticks him in an absurd mid-film dance scene that feels like she’s letting off steam. This guy’s been lowering the cast’s collective output, I’ll make him tap dance for a, awkwardly long time.
Don’t Worry Darling is melodramatic popcorn fun with an amount of unfulfilled potential. There’s a better film here, but it ends up being too obvious in what it’s saying and too mysterious in how it gets there. This is a step down from Booksmart for Wilde, but not such a dramatic one that she’s disallowed from taking many more shots. Maybe just stay away from the pop stars next time. C+
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