‘Run Sweetheart Run’ Is An Unflinching Look At Gendered Violence [Review]
Mary Beth McAndrews
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I don’t have to tell you that existing as a woman is terrifying and exhausting. Sure, bedazzled shirts that scream “girl power” and bright pink pussy hats may trick some into thinking that things are just great for women. But underneath that capitalist girl boss crap are the same systems of oppression that have kept people assigned female at birth under the thumbs of the patriarchy. Abortion rights are constantly under threat. Men can get away with rape and assault with a slap on the wrist. Women’s lives are real horror movies. And director Shana Feste wanted to make that abundantly clear in her new film Run Sweetheart Run.
The film follows Cherie (Ella Balinska), a single mom and law student who works as a secretary at a Los Angeles law firm. She works long hours for her unappreciative boss while studying and taking care of her daughter. One night, her boss asks her to go to dinner with a client in his place. It’s just a dinner, what could go wrong? So Cherie puts on her nicest dress and meets Ethan (Pilou Asbæk). They hit it off right away, with Ethan oozing enough charm and charisma to woo even the coldest of hearts. But when Cherie joins him for a nightcap, his sinister intentions are revealed.
While we don’t see what happens to Cherie, we don’t need to. All we see is Cherie bursting through his front door covered in blood with a torn dress and no shoes. He’s tried to hurt her and she is running for her life. Thus begins Cherie’s tumultuous journey through the streets of Los Angeles as she tries to avoid Ethan’s clutches. But Ethan isn’t your average man. No, he’s something older, meaner, and much more bloodthirsty. Now, Cherie must rely on a network of women to protect her and help her survive until the sun rises.
The story isn’t subtle, but it doesn’t have to be. Run Sweetheart Run wouldn’t work if it was trying to carefully construct a metaphor about misogyny and abuse. It’s so successful in its borderline campy treatment of its subject matter, which at first sounds counterintuitive. But, Feste’s dedication to the bit and use of male monstrosity in this horrific rendition of a chase film make this film work when it really could have stumbled. Yes, there are tripping points, but Run Sweetheart is overall successful in bashing us over the head with a message that many seem unable to internalize.
Balinska is the beating heart of this film. She’s an unstoppable force that never once lets the emotional intensity falter or fade. She has a daunting task here as she’s on screen for almost the entire runtime. And she isn’t just delivering lines. She’s screaming, running, throwing her body around. This is a brutal role and Balinska embraces that with open arms.
Standing opposite Balinska is the chillingly suave Asbæk who plays the devilish Ethan with terrifying calm. He really taps into the role of a man who has never once had to face the consequences of his actions. He’s as cool as a scary cucumber. So when he breaks into bouts of rage, it’s all the more shocking and upsetting. The two actors play off each other well as Cherie struggles for power and Ethan struggles to keep it away from her.
Violence against women is central to Run Sweetheart Run and sometimes it’s infuriating. Much of the film is watching women, especially women of color, get brutalized for either standing up for themselves or just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t see many men get harmed, but women’s bodies litter the screen. Yes, that is Feste’s point. However, it’s frustrating to see that reality laid out with no real feeling of hope. This doesn’t mean there needs to be hope. But here, Feste struggles to always balance this tone of reality and fantasy.
Then, Feste again taps into the reality of womanhood by using Run Sweetheart Run to destigmatize taboos around the discussion of menstruation. So often, this normal biological process for people with uteruses is seen as dirty. As such, it should be hidden from the world. It’s only ever talked about in films as a comedy bit (looking at you, Superbad). But here, Feste uses menstruation as a superpower of sorts, a resource rather than a hindrance. Cherie is seen throwing tampons and smearing blood across her face as a survival tool in the face of this monster. It’s refreshing to see something that many people experience proudly on display rather than swept under the rug.
That being said, using menstruation as a major plot point in defining womanhood inherently excludes trans women from Feste’s thesis about female empowerment and abuse. Trans women, especially trans women of color, are more likely to experience gendered violence and therefore know very well the fear of existing in the world against the patriarchal ideal. Yet in Run Sweetheart Run, the trans community is entirely overlooked, instead rooting the story in biological definitions of womanhood. It’s a massive misstep in a film that does the work to grab the viewer by the collar and shake them into understanding what it means to be oppressed by cis men in power.
Run Sweetheart Run is a shrill battle cry about what it means to exist in this world as a woman. Unfortunately, Feste’s vision of the world is limited to biological definitions of womanhood. Regardless, this film is an unflinching look at the dangers of existing as a woman, especially around men in places of power. Balinska and Asbæk work in tandem to create a chilling and tense dynamic that illustrates the fear of searching for justice and protection. Feste’s film is about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the groin, and that’s a good thing. It’s a necessary horror film about the gendered power dynamics that feel almost impossible to escape. It screams in your face that the world needs to change. And we’d do well to heed its warning.
Summary
Run Sweetheart Run is a rallying war cry about the terrifying reality of being a woman. However, tonal struggles and a seeming focus on biological womanhood keep the film from reaching its full potential.
