In “Alice, Darling,” the titular protagonist’s friends are a little worried. As the three of them embark on a weeklong trip, peacemaking Sophie (Wunmi Mosaku) has her eye on Alice (Anna Kendrick), later describing her eating habits as “disordered.” Birthday girl Tess (Kaniehtiio Horn), a struggling artist, has been drifting apart from Alice. In the eyes of her friends, Alice’s personality has started to fade. What they don’t know is she’s frequently on the verge of a panic attack and can be set off by the mere thought of displeasing boyfriend Simon (Charlie Carrick).
She and Simon are in an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship characterized by him controlling her with frequent check-ins and the threat of disapproval. We don’t delve into the details. We do know any abuse is emotional rather than physical, often in the form of withering criticism from an older (by about eight years), successful man on the high end of an imbalanced relationship dynamic. Beyond that, Simon simply comes across as a needy, possessive-obsessive jerk. The movie doesn’t try to explain more deeply than that, answering the inevitable questions by having Alice overhear strangers incredulously wondering about a girl in a harmful circumstance: “Why would she put herself in that situation?” You see in her eyes: They wouldn’t understand. But I do.
The film doesn’t trace who Alice used to be or how she got here. It skips every opportunity to show us, or to let us hear her tell her side (it even skips the scene where she does so for her friends); it’s deliberately vague in a way that is dramatically unhelpful. But then, it’s less about that relationship than the possibility of her recovery beginning. The girls’ trip turns into a kind of unintended intervention, even a detox, especially once she’s deprived of her phone and forced to go cold turkey.
