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georgieatkinsdewynter
16th October 2024

Blink twice, or avert your eyes? A critique of Blink Twice’s handling of sensitive material

Does Blink Twice handle sensitive material in a brave and astute way, or does it sacrifice sensitivity for a heavy-handed shock factor?
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Blink twice, or avert your eyes? A critique of Blink Twice’s handling of sensitive material
Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Content warning: Discussions of rape and sexual violence. This article contains spoiler content.

Blink Twice is the marmite of 2024 releases: some people love it, some people hate it. Much of the hate is directed at the handling (or lack thereof) of sensitive material. Is this justified? With a rating of 15 and a trigger warning being displayed at the start, is it really that offensive?

Directed by Zoë Kravitz, Blink Twice follows the story of Frida (Naomi Ackie), a waitress who meets the controversial tech mogul Slater King (Channing Tatum) at an event she is working at. He whisks her and her best friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) away to his private island, along with some of his friends and other women they met at the event.

It is eventually revealed that the island is King and his circle’s way of isolating young women, plying them with venom to make them forget that they are being sexually assaulted by the men who brought them there every evening. Frida manages to escape, and the film ends with her marrying King and dosing him with the venom, in order to control him and take advantage of his wealth and power.

Coming into the cinema, I knew that there was a controversial scene in Blink Twice. Packed with stunning visuals, clever screenplay and subtle hints to the eventual ‘plot twist’ (can I call it that?), there are elements well worthy of praise in Kravitz’s directorial debut. Naomi Ackie perfectly captures the starstruck confusion of protagonist Frida, and provides a strong lead for the audience to relate to and root for.

Stylistically, there is much to be admired about the first hour or so of the film. The vibrant, exotic colours of the terracotta house, the verdant surroundings and bright blue pool are intoxicating and aesthetically pleasing. A palpable tension is built through savvy camerawork; the short, successive shots show how quickly the girls are roped into the fantasy, and lingering takes of Slater’s stony expression create a strong sense of forewarning. Issues concerning the abuse of power and faults in cancel culture are delved into, and there is a light-hearted yet sinister comedic element to the first two acts that is cleverly executed.

However, there is an unignorable caveat in how sensitive material was handled and, for some, exploited for the sake of shock factor. The style and tension of the first two acts is abruptly dropped when the film winds itself around a plot point that feels far too heavy handed in its execution, with not enough technical brilliance to strike a tone that feels appropriate. Instead, it feels brutal, and not in a brave way; it feels clunky and discordant.

Does the 15 rating and trigger warning suffice? Is it indicative of the nature of the contentious, drawn-out scene that depicts a multitude of sexually violent, obscene acts, all staged to James Brown’s ‘People Get Up and Drive Your Funky Soul’? One movie-goer stated that they found the light-hearted song vital to the film’s message; it demonstrates how the men in the film justify and palliate their actions through convincing themselves that they’re not that bad. The discord between what we are viewing and what we are hearing is meant to unsettle us. The intention is to place blame on the men, not to divert attention away from the horrific suffering of the women.

However, the film chooses to convey that element of blame at the expense of the scene not being told from the women’s perspective. Is that effective storytelling, or a fatal, insensitive misstep? One may argue that the women’s comeuppance arrives later in the film, but is that harrowing scene actually effectively remedied by the following events of the film? I would argue not.

Is the answer to Frida’s troubles, as a woman of colour, really to marry Slater King, a white man, in order to take advantage of his wealth? Is that a satisfying ending for a survivor of multiple rapes and sexual assaults? Blink Twice seems to think so.

And yet, the conclusion is neither satisfying nor pleasingly vindictive. It doesn’t avenge King’s countless other victims. Viewers who were waiting for comeuppance in the conclusion are left offended and disappointed, myself being one of them.

There is more to be said about the so-called #MeToo-inspired thriller sub-genre that has been emerging over the past few years, notably including Don’t Worry Darling, The Body Lies, and Promising Young Woman. Depictions of sexual violence and rape should not be handled lightly – it demands hyper-awareness of how it can affect an audience and impact a story.

Sexual violence is not a plot point, it is a complex social, political, and personal issue that should not be exploited for shock factor, nor become a contrived cliché as this film makes it.

Blink Twice is still showing in select cinemas, but is also available to purchase from Prime Video, Apple TV, and Google Play.


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