When I saw the previews for Red Sparrow, I joked that it was a movie for Black Widow. Marvel only began promising us a standalone movie recently, but we have wanted one for quite some time so it is more of a dig at Marvel dragging its feet on its women heroes. All joking aside, I’m kind of over the idea of a Black Widow movie once Agent Carter got cancelled, and Dottie Underwood, a far more intriguing character, went away with it. Also if Avengers: Age of Ultron is any indication of what such a movie would be like in terms of character development, I’m good.
After Mother!, I was a little reluctant to see another movie starring Jennifer Lawrence with a great supporting cast regardless of how cool the trailer looked, but my desire to see women kicking butt overrode my common sense when a friend asked me if I wanted to see it. Always trust your first instinct. Red Sparrow would have been better if it had tried to mimic Black Widow, even the Avengers: Age of Ultron version of her.
Red Sparrow is an adaptation of a book, and to be fair, the story itself works, but the execution feels like torture porn and is gratuitous. How many times can Jennifer Lawrence avoid being raped and get tortured when she is forced to be a spy? Spoiler: a lot! I think that the first bad thing that happens to her feels like the worst as a viewer, but I know that my fellow audience members, including my friend, would heartily disagree.
What ultimately makes Red Sparrow a hot piece of garbage is how it depicts torture depending on if it is being inflicted on a woman or a man, and the type of response that it is trying to elicit from the audience. When it is a woman, usually played by Lawrence, the film shows every blow, thrust, grab. It is almost gynecological in its approach. When it is a man, it is implied though discussed in detail, and the after effects are shown. I gauged the audience’s reaction, and they were more horrified at one man’s torture scene than Lawrence’s orgy of agony. I practically cackled out loud as the audience cringed and gasped. My FitBit thought that I was asleep. The cynical and accurate emotional manipulation, knowing that we are more tolerant of and find women in pain more entertaining than men, indicates that this movie intended to make this story, and it was not a case of bad filmmaking. Grim endurance and evasion gets tedious if there is no point other than survival, and there are better real life stories than this that can give me the same lesson.
Red Sparrow is propaganda. I was surprised that it was set in the present day, not Soviet, Russia, not because I think things are better, but that was the aesthetic. When characters were concerned about creating an international incident and angering the POTUS, I thought, “Nah, you’re good.” The US spies are so much nicer, principled and hotter, but I’m sorry, I never bought that she was so overwhelmed with attraction for Joel Edgerton that she was willing to risk it all for him. Their first sex scene is comical and mechanical. Even he looks uncomfortable, as if he is about to say, “Um, m’aam, I believe that you accidentally dropped this.” The romantic subplot seems so extraneous, and sex as a reward for being a nice guy feels just as exploitive. Her victory is that there are more people working within Russia to defeat it, not her survival, as she pines for her one true American love. Sure, OK. It feels like a two dimensional outsider’s view of the societal problems faced by Russians, and it can all be summed up in two words: sexual exploitation. Treat yourself and check out an Andrey Zvyagintsev film to get an insider’s glimpse on the morose spiritual depression and tragic narrative spiral felt by an insider.
Red Sparrow is one of those films where not a single Russian actor plays a Russian. I read there was one Ukranian actor in the film, but it is mostly British people and Americans with the exception of Matthias Schoenarts, who needs a new agent because he is a good actor, but clearly his career is over. When I saw Jeremy Irons, I did start laughing because at that moment, I knew that I made a huge mistake because while he is a good actor, he only works to pay for that castle. I had a similar reaction when I saw Charlotte Rampling, who stopped being an indication of a quality film ever since she appeared in Assassin’s Creed. If I had known that they were in this film before I bought my ticket, I would have run the other way. Rampling and Irons must have entered a mutual sell out package, and I’m sure their wallets thank them. The struggle is real and not everyone can retire. Whore school indeed.
Red Sparrow had some good bones, and I actually bought the basic framework of the story. If a character is a prima ballerina, I could believe that her discipline and endurance would make her excel in unlikely fields, especially the ability to play to an audience and not crumble in the face of scrutiny, but the film never teases out this plot point and attributes it to genetics. The whole gross incestuous plot works as it is implied that there are certain lines that the mastermind would not cross, but he can vicariously satisfy his deviant urges. Lawrence’s character’s suppressed rage erupting secretly could have been used more, but it is dropped after awhile. I like the idea of female anger expressing itself in a male fashion once she is away from prying eyes, but Red Sparrow prefers the idea of a victim, not a perpetrator, which clearly the film is not comfortable with and takes great pains to keep her in the good girl category: she refuses to have sex except with one person and just loves her mom.
Red Sparrow does not feel empowering. Sure the denouement is clever, and unlike many movies, is laid out pretty well throughout the entire film, but it feels more like exhausting survival than triumphant revenge. The precipitating factor that starts all of this intrigue feels thin as she begins on the road of exploitation. Once she got better, she could not go back to her old job? She can’t teach? We are missing a few steps. Skip it unless you dig torture porn and honey pots.