‘DON’T WORRY DARLING’ Review: Flirts with Disquieting Delights, Delivers Absorbing Style

Courtney Howard // Film Critic

DON’T WORRY DARLING

Rated R, 2 hours and 2 minutes

Directed by: Olivia Wilde

Starring: Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Chris Pine, Olivia Wilde, Kate Berlant, Nick Kroll, Gemma Chan, Timothy Simons, KiKi Layne, Sydney Chandler, Douglas Smith

DON’T WORRY DARLING’s biggest flaw is how long it teases out a fairly obvious, surprisingly basic reveal. However, director Olivia Wilde makes sure that the journey and destination are visually arresting and absorbing. The highly-stylized artistic flourishes cloak commentary that, despite its lackluster and thorny aspects, is prickly, piercing and occasionally palpable.

Alice (Florence Pugh) and Jack (Harry Styles) appear to have it all: a steady income, a frisky sex life and an impeccably-kept house in the idyllic, sunny suburbs. Every morning, the men in Victory leave for work, leaving their wives to tend to the home and lead a life of leisure, gossiping and looking glamourous whilst doing so. All of this is courtesy of Frank (Chris Pine), the housing development’s cult-like leader who’s hard at work with the men in town, perfecting the top secret “Victory Project,” which he believes will change the course of history. Everyone in town has bought into his progressive thinking too, surrounded by mind-control propaganda and an absence of free will.

Our heroine’s world begins to spin out of control upon the introduction of new citizens Violet (Sydney Chandler) and Bill (Douglas Smith), as well as her neighbor Margaret’s (Kiki Layne) mental meltdown. Alice is plagued by disturbing visions and unshakeable feelings of paranoia. She suspects something nefarious is lurking underneath the surface. The more the evidence mounts, and the more the men around her including her loving husband and Dr. Collins (Timothy Simons) attempt to reassure her, the more her suspicions grow.

It’s more than a little problematic – tone deaf, even – that a Black woman’s sacrifice inspires and informs a white woman’s paranoid quest. Clumsy character construction also serves to frustrate. Even though the attention is primarily focused on the portrayal of women and female pleasure, the filmmakers do a disservice to supporting ladies like Margaret, Violet, Frank’s wife Shelley (Gemma Chan) and Alice’s pregnant neighbor Peg (Kate Berlant) by not gifting them with much depth and dimension. When the inevitable turn occurs, it’s troubling there’s little root-able interest beyond a cheap grab at our empathy.

SUSPIRA (both versions), THE MATRIX, THE TRUMAN SHOW, THE VILLAGE, SWALLOW, THE STEPFORD WIVES (’75), and THE PRISONER all function as cinematic touchstones, whose references are as subtle as anvil drops. Yet Wilde and screenwriter Katie Silberman (who works from a Black List story by Carey Van Dyke and Shane Van Dyke) infuse these ingredients with vibrant vigor. World-building is aesthetically immersive, not solely in terms of Katie Byron’s throwback kitsch and Palm Springs Chic production design, but also Alice’s internal psychosis tangibly manifesting in striking visions, rumbling sound design and percussive score, featuring women in choral vocal distress. 

Pugh delivers taut psychodrama, especially as her world crumbles and closes in on her. It’s thrilling to watch it transpire in her capable hands, even as it treads some territory similar to MIDSOMMAR. Styles, whose fresh-faced, under-developed acting skills feel perfectly at home given his character’s arc, gives a strong, subdued performance. He even gets to sing (about potatoes!) and dance (a delirious tap dance!). The duo conjure a decent amount of heat to carry the drama to potent, poignant places when ensuing threats appear, causing marital strife and chasm-like rifts. Wilde, who gives herself an ample featured player role, is wickedly divine. Still, it’s Berlant who’s the film’s MVP, elevating her material, imbuing it with effervescence and levity.

Alice’s ruptured psyche can be mapped through a color chart of Arianne Phillips’ costume design. The once-perky protagonist’s carefree frivolity, as reflected in saturated jewel tones in the beginning, turn as she seeks the truth, dressing in a lighter toned palette. The camera takes a God’s eye view, standing in judgement of the events. Circle motifs pepper the picture, as spotted in Victory’s design, Jack’s coffee mug, the townswomen’s ballet formation and the Busby Berkeley-esque dance numbers that trigger Alice. They emphasize the cyclical nature of history itself. The third act car chase is character-driven (pun intended) and highlights Wilde and editor Affonso Gonçalves’ adroit talents, finding femininity in brawling machismo.

While the mystery at play is treated as a twist, enlightened audiences will emerge the victor if they alter their perspective, viewing the picture as a hallucinogenic mood-piece of our times. Wilde uses it as both a megaphone, not to say anything new or unique (which she really should’ve since she has our captive attention), but to rattle our cages, daring us to rectify our past confining treatment of women with the present regressive era for women.

Grade: 3.5 out of 5

DON’T WORRY DARLING opens in theaters on September 23.