The power of dialogue in Women Talking

TW: Sexual assault, domestic abuse

If there is any movie that illustrates the multifaceted nature of women's personalities, it's Sarah Polley's Women Talking (2022). In this film, we're witness to a meeting of a group of women in a Mennonite community. The one and only topic on the agenda: What should our response be to the continuous exploitation we have suffered at the hands of men? Should we flee? Should we make the men leave? Fight them? Or, alternatively, should we forgive them? It's a film completely centered on dialogue and every single line carries its weight. For the full hour and a half, we barely leave the attic where the meeting takes place and we see everything unfold more or less in real time. It's a grave and powerful story with an impeccable cast and well-rounded complex characters. Let's dive in.

Background and plot

This film is loosely based on a real-life community, as described in Miriam Toews' 2018 semi-fictionalized novel by the same name. At the centre of the story are the women of an isolated community of Mennonites in an unknown location, though their real-life counterparts lived in Manitoba Colony in Bolivia. Mennonite communities are based on Anabaptist Christianity going back to the very first days of the Reformation and the split of protestantism from the Catholic church. It's a branch of Christianity originating in the Netherlands. Friesland, more specifically. Some defining characteristics of Mennonite values include believer's baptism, communion, excommunication or shunning of the sinful, pacifism, and a nonconformity to the world. Essentially meaning that it's community-based living with an emphasis on peace and service. Some denominations may be more traditionally disconnected from the outside world than others might, and stances on social issues and other such topics can also differ across the board.

In the particular community we see in the film, as well as in the community Toews based her book on, atrocities took place. Girls and women between the ages of eight and sixty were repeatedly drugged with gas and raped while unconscious by men in their surroundings. This happened for years; between 2005 and 2009. Having no recollection of what happened but frequently waking up with new bruises, pain, and pregnancy, the women attributed the acts to ghosts or demons. Or punishments for their sins and their "wild female imagination". In Bolivia it later turned out to have been a group of eight men from their colony, all of whom have since been convicted to twenty-five years in prison. It is estimated that over 130 women suffered their assaults. None of those women have been allowed to seek help from mental health professionals in the aftermath, the colony's bishop claiming it not to be necessary as the victims were unconscious during the attacks.

Take a second to let that sink in. It might be one of the cruelest things I have ever read. One of those things you cannot wrap your head around being true.

When we enter Women Talking, it has just come to light that the attacks were in fact not the work of the devil. The eight perpetrators have been locked in a jail cell and the remaining male community members head into town to post bail for them, announcing to the women that they'll be back in two days, and that they need to have forgiven their abusers by that time. Resentment or non-forgiveness is sinful and will be met with excommunication, as well as denied entry into Heaven. The women of the colony take a vote to decide what their next step will be: do nothing (and forgive), stay and fight, or leave. When a tie is reached between the latter two options, a handful of women are elected to make the final decision. Minutes are taken by the only adult man whose face we see in the film: August (Ben Whishaw). He is the colony's boys school teacher. Soft spoken and timid, he records the women's conversation, as they themselves have never learned to read or write.

Space for expression and faith

Our young narrator Autje (Kate Hallett) tells us the following: "Where I come from, [...] we didn't talk about our bodies. So when something like this happened there was no language for it. And without language for it, there was a gaping silence. And in that gaping silence was the real horror." It is likely the first time that the women truly discuss the suffering they experience in their daily life, which brings out responses to a lifetime of trauma in many forms. The most striking thing about the discussion, to me, is that any and all expressions of opinions and emotions are welcomed and embraced. Personalities clash often. Salome (Clare Foy), for example, is overcome with rage over the injustice done onto her daughter. She wants to stay and fight, to harm the men who committed these acts, saying she will go to any lengths, even killing if she has to, to protect her children from further hurt. Ona (Rooney Mara) embodies the Socratic voice, asking clarifying questions and providing food for thought. She is calm and hopeful, dreaming of utopic futures where men and women make decisions collectively and equally. Much to the annoyance of Mariche (Jessie Buckley), who we later find out is married to a man that physically abuses her and her children. She sees no hope for the future and would still prefer to do nothing, as she is not convinced any action will result in a better life. She holds a deep fear for her husband and the other men of the colony, even though she presents with a tough exterior. She is so consumed by it, in fact, that she at times directs her resulting fury at August during the meeting, the only man to whom she is able to speak freely without fearing any consequences.

Throughout the meeting, the women often fall back on their faith. It has provided them with a basis for moral thought throughout their life after all. It creates an interesting dynamic, as a horrific event such as the one these women have suffered could just as easily cause a person to break with their religious beliefs. For if there is a higher power concerned with the wellbeing of their herd, how could they allow this to happen? Or, as expressed perhaps more eloquently by Salome:

If God is a loving God then he will forgive us himself. If God is a vengeful God then He has created us in His image. If God is omnipotent, then why has He not protected the women and girls of this colony?

The discussion we are witnessing welcomes the confusion, anger, sadness, existentialism, hopefulness, gratitude, and any other emotion and rationale the women are experiencing. Because all of these reactions are logical to have. And it's incredibly refreshing to witness this pluralism, because I can't recall many other media where such a lengthy and dynamic discussion has been executed so well without losing suspense. In that sense, and as director Sarah Polley describes it, this film could be described as an example of radical democracy. All taking place in the attic of a Mennonite barn.

The attic and only the attic

Women Talking is in essence a kammerspielfilm, or a chamber play film, a concept with its roots in German theater. It's a movie - or a play - set in one often simple location. Like the attic in this film. We take small escapades out of the space, but never beyond the borders of the colony and mainly in the shape of flashbacks. Because of the lack of intricacies in set design, a focus can be placed on the psyches of the characters. Their thoughts, their emotions and lifeworlds, the conversations amongst them. Claire Foy articulates the importance of this focus on the psyche really well in an installment of The Hollywood Reporter's Actresses Roundtable. She highlights that, when a movie includes traumatic events, the focus is often placed on the event itself, almost to a fetishizing degree, rather than the impact it has on the human being to whom it happens. We never see any of the assaults in Women Talking. We see what it has left behind. And in many ways I think that is much more powerful.

It goes against a golden rule in cinema: show, don't tell. Or in other words, it should be visuals, rather than words, that provide the viewer with information. Not in Women Talking, though. We rely on dialogue, causing a tendency for the lines to be direct and on-the-nose at times. In many other cinematic settings, this would annoy me. But for this film, it truly allows us a look into the emotional turmoil inside these women's heads and bodies, which is exactly what should be the focus of this story. They hold the power of the narrative, and, while the topic is horrific, that power is incredible to see represented on screen.