POPCORN REVIEWSS

It is interesting that the drama is divided into chapters, with each chapter dedicated to a year in the life of Agnes, starting with the year of the ‘bad moment’. And here, time is directly equated to degrees of trauma with the passage of time. But when you choose to look even closer, it tells you a thing or two about how trauma lingers on even when an individual chooses to step away from the scars. With the passage of time, the trauma often remains buried deep within the memories, only to resurface following a trigger incident based on the setting or the perpetrator(s) in question.

Here the individual in question remains Agnes’ literature professor Decker (Louis Cancelmi) who seems like a dignified individual (don’t most men look like that before unleashing their fury?), usually mentoring students like Agnes in a graduation programme for teaching. It is a game about perceptions for Agnes who is attracted to him, so much so that she gets invited to his house on the back of her charm until the said incident transpires. The camera remains stoic with multiple match cuts being employed to showcase the passage of time. It is interesting how the ‘act’ itself isn’t shown, only reducing it to a sense of urgency on the part of Agnes who storms out of the house, only to narrate the incident to her bestie Lydie. There is a psychological angle to the incident that the writers tap into – almost presenting the viewers on the same level as Lydie, while gently riling up the sentiments of fury towards Decker, and a sense of empathy towards Agnes.

The seriousness of the drama is often cut through by bouts of dark comedy that erupt at unexpected occasions. Be it the careless doctor who casually examines Agnes for assault, or the college’s insipid disciplinary board who refuse to take action just because the perpetrator has resigned. There is a hint of callousness that Agnes in subjected to, wherein the latter uses sarcasm as a mode for escapism. Clearly, her trauma is at its peak at this point, and yet, what Agnes looks to do is deflect it, or hide it under the rug. She isn’t very certain on how to handle it – paving way or sarcasm or even deviating her mind from it, early on.

There are cinematic parallels that you can draw with the character of Agnes and Tara (Mia Mckenna-Bruce) from How To Have S*x (2023). Whilst the starting points of both characters are different – Tara being under peer-pressure as opposed to just an unceremonious breach of intimacy for Agnes, and yet their dealings with trauma finds a common ground. Both are confused and shy on how to communicate it to the world, or more so, how to deal with it themselves. In a crucial scene (years after the incident), you see Agnes hesitating about participating in jury duties, given how she hasn’t completely overcome her trauma – something that she communicates by saying that ‘she won’t be able to be unbiased’. It is a subtle way to also term her trauma that has scarred her for life, so much so that she wouldn’t view life or the characters around her in a usual gaze.

The emotions flow here like waves – they alternate between respite and trauma for Agnes. So while she has some respite in the form of a supporting neighbour and beau Gavin (Lucas Hedges), you don’t exactly see her enjoying her moments of intimacy with him. In a scene when Gavin inquires on whether she ‘enjoyed it’, she reluctantly nods – a fleeting moment that tells you about her mindset. In another scene, she is triggered on hearing a s*xual encounter that her colleague ‘willingly’ had with her perpetrator for career-gains, almost gasping for breath on her way home. But to balance the situation, a stranger does offer her a sandwich to calm her down. But Agnes is at a stage of acute trauma wherein she is unable to enjoy even the smaller moments of life, companionship and trauma.

The troubled mindset of Agnes soon becomes a case study in empathy and violence even as she adopts a stray kitten from the streets, but violently kills a rat in her home (brought by the kitten to her place). There is catharsis to experience in the latter, almost being an irreverent ode to pain and trauma that she has been silenting enduring. Agnes here is shown to be transformed into an unpredictable personality who hasn’t found a way to handle her trauma. And some of it also stems from the fact that she doesn’t want her perpetrator to suffer given that he is a co-parent. So even while contemplating to set his office ablaze, she resists the thought – but thereby blocking the exit of her trauma too.

She even doesn’t wish to be a mother herself due to her erratic behavior, politely declining Gavin’s idea of the same. And the only moment you see her confronting her trauma is when she confides in Lydie’s baby girl – apologizing for being brought to this big bad world, a little love letter to her own life that is riddled with pain. It is a way of trying to run away from her trauma in moments that offer momentary respite, but never fully healing from it given that there was no closure. But in the moment, it could also be interpreted on how Agnes wished to hit the reset button by being born again – probably the only way she would overcome her trauma. You even see her assuring the baby girl with words that ‘she will ways be there for her’ – a sign that she needed someone to constantly stay with her (Agnes), as opposed to the contradictory impression of choosing to live in isolation (and also given how everyone around her had moved on). It is a bittersweet moment that is immensely heartbreaking while witnessing an individual slip in acute depression without finding a way out.