The Stepford Wives (1975) - The horror with only a thimble of blood

The horror of knowing something is wrong but not being able to justify and express it is palpable. Trapped not in any physical sense, but emotionally. The few people you have trusted with your sincerity and joy being robbed from you, but still seeing their stinging smile each and every day.

The Stepford Wives has become a bit of a euphemism in and of itself. Relaying the patriarchal nightmare the movie so slowly and agonisingly depicts.

It is a film about it’s so called twist, but the exact nature of the twist itself is immaterial really.

The encroaching evidence that these women are being replaced, changed, dumbed down or lobotomised until all they can think about is keeping a clean kitchen for their husband. 

A mystical and exaggerated realisation of patriarchy’s effect on many women themselves. 

The core of the film is that anxiety more than anything else. But it only works because of how likeable the real women in the movie are.

The protagonist Joanna is so achingly real in a way I don’t think many movies get even half way to accomplishing. She does like her husband, her family, and her life. She has passions and desires, her photography is such a great way to essentialise her agency and personality. She is not satisfied, it’s almost impossible to be in life. But she has the energy to keep pushing and trying new things.

Her friend Bobby is such an instant sensation that I as a viewer don’t know what I am going to do without her. Her unabashed personality, her excellent outfits, and overall rapport with Joanna manages to carry the first hour and a half of the film. 

The unseemingly simple ways the men have control over the town starts off a little old fashioned but nothing sinister. Much like how misogyny and gendered bias is often passed off without so much as a single interrogating thought.

But beyond the themes and the journey of the characters, perhaps the film's weakest aspect would be its direction. 

While certain scenes yell with artistic value through its cinematography and camera movements. The final scene of the film manages to instill so much emotion in each and every shot. The intention is palpable.

But a hefty majority of the movie is a little blandly assorted and filmed, quite unceremoniously showing the events of each scene without imparting narrative of its own through camera work. 

Overall it’s slow pace both aids the increasing tension, but it can also take a while to get where it needs to go with how abundantly clear the direction of the story is going to take with even the broadest plot description or idea in your head. 

There is so much to love about The Stepford Wives, but it is unable to climb into the pantheon of unabashed perfection in cinema due to these minor gripes. But it remains quite the unappreciated gem of seventies cinema that deserves your time and attention.

4/5