Film Review: Don't Worry Darling
DAZZLING CRAFT AND FLORENCE PUGH ELEVATE THE THIN AND TEDIOUS DON’T WORRY DARLING
Don’t Worry Darling, Olivia Wilde’s thoroughly mediocre followup to her 2019 directorial debut Booksmart, is buoyed by its dazzling below-the-line craft and a handful of electric performances. Florence Pugh and Chris Pine shine with arresting magnetism, but their contributions are mostly illusory: This story of a concealed malevolence lurking underneath a patriarchal “paradise” is, unfortunately, only skin deep. Minor spoilers ahead…
The journey of Olivia Wilde’s Don’t Worry Darling - from buzzy anticipation, to curious gossip, to whirlwind dramatics - has been a fascinating one. The rumor mill, worked up to a fever pitch of speculation at this year’s Venice Film Festival, seemingly steeled audiences for one of two outcomes: a masterpiece worthy of its purported behind-the-scenes squabbling, or a trainwreck begat by its own troubled production. In the end, Don’t Worry Darling is mostly neither - it’s just fine: a gorgeously shot, handsomely acted (for the most part), and paper-thin thriller that finds itself lesser than the sum of its parts.
Set in a desert-baked, mid-century paradise seemingly torn from the pages of a catalog, Don’t Worry Darling centers around housewife Alice Chambers (Florence Pugh in seriously heavy-lifting mode) as she uncovers the dangerous underpinnings of her idyllic utopia. The town is called Victory, and every single morning, her doting husband Jack (Harry Styles) - along with all the other men in the community - jet off to their clandestine workplace as their wives wave in unison from their cul-de-sac driveways. A polished company town, Victory is eerily reminiscent of the real-life “secret cities” of the Manhattan Project, government-sponsored communities in the 1940s that housed the families of those who worked on the atomic bomb. With its own parallel of the “Victory Project,” Don’t Worry Darling pulls its portrait of patriarchal suburbia straight from America’s past: The men are the breadwinners, their work is hushed even from their wives, and the women play the role of dutiful housewife - providing the comforts of warm meals, clean houses, and sex without question. At the town’s center? The mysterious and charismatic Frank (Chris Pine, oozing simultaneous charm and menace), whose way with words and cult-like leadership of the “Victory Project” hides a sinister truth.
“…much like the town of Victory itself, Don’t Worry Darling is an illusion - a glimmering mirage concealing the shallow and obvious.”
Florence Pugh, who has made a stunning career of playing the unraveling woman, is in fine form here. Wearing the fissures of a cracking reality right upon her face, Pugh loads the entire film upon her back as a distraction from an increasingly tedious investigation into the narrative’s hollow secrets. Secrets which are mostly satisfied with constructing transparent pastiches of films such as The Stepford Wives, Pleasantville, and a few other cultural touchstones that would spoil the entire film if mentioned. In fact, much like the town of Victory itself, Don’t Worry Darling is an illusion - a glimmering mirage concealing the shallow and obvious.
But what a magic trick it is. With Matty Libatique’s vibrant lensing and John Powell’s eerie, breathy score swirling around Florence Pugh’s familiar furrow, it’s almost admirable that Don’t Worry Darling staves its wheels from flying off for so long. Olivia Wilde makes for a fine maestro and a surprisingly astute horror director, effectively clashing a vision of blissful Americana - with a big assist from costume designer Ariane Phillips - against an encroaching, shadowy malevolence. It’s all captivating enough until everything collapses in on itself with a rushed, misguided third act; there’s just no hiding the massive chasm between how smart Don’t Worry Darling thinks it is and how smart it actually is. Contrasting Wilde’s insightful debut of Booksmart, this is a classic case of ambition swallowing a story whole; underneath its glitz, glamour, and technical prowess, Don’t Worry Darling is a traditional - albeit impressive - sophomore slump.
