If you threw Alejandro Amenabar’s “Abre Los Ojos” (Eng.: “Open Your Eyes,” 1997), John Grisham’s novel “The Firm” (and its ’93 cinematic adaptation starring Tom Cruise), and Roman Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby” into a blender and set it to pulse, you’d probably get “Don’t Worry Darling.” Olivia Wilde’s sophomore directorial effort stars Florence Pugh as Alice, living with her husband Jack (Harry Styles; “Dunkirk,” 2017) in Victory, a suburban Californian company town. 

Owned by the mysterious Frank (Chris Pine; “Hell or High Water,” 2016), Victory residents consist exclusively of The Victory Project employees and their families. An apparent mental breakdown of one of Margaret (KiKi Layne; “If Beale Street Could Talk,” 2018) triggers an unexplainable set of events around Alice. As she tries to find answers, she realizes that her life might be in danger with every step she takes closer to the truth.

“Don’t Worry Darling” sets the tone from its first second—thanks majorly to the brilliant work of cinematographer Matthew Libatique (“The Whale,” 2022). Every shot has a specific look and texture that balances the aesthetic and vibe of the 50s with this looming undercurrent of artificiality. Crafted especially to bother viewers trying their best to enjoy a nostalgic craving for a different, simpler era, Wilde’s film is essentially an argument against the “good old days” when “films weren’t political” and “life was simpler.”

At the top of this operation is Frank—who Pine seems to have the most fun playing—who is modeled after a specific person representing a particular culture. In an interview with Maggie Gyllenhaal, Wilde revealed the basis of his character: Canadian author, clinical psychologist, and media personality Jordan B. Peterson, who, according to her, “legitimizes” aspects of the overall alt-right culture in a way his followers could feel, “[…] like this is a real philosophy that should be taken seriously.”

Frank’s carefully measured speech and eerily calm poise lend to the kind of personality that has the employees of The Victory Project—all of whom are men, and for a good reason in the film’s context—in a trance. His character perfectly balances charisma and creepiness, walking a tightrope that successfully taps into the cult leader vibe. A crucial scene in the third act, where some key revelations are made on Frank’s actual reach and influence, perfectly cements how much harm words can cause from someone backed by their own accreditations and has an air of legitimacy to what they say.

The film’s in-universe societal structure is layered with an unnerving underscore of controlled artifice. Its sense of community—for lack of a better term—feels cinematically showy. It wants to sell the viewers The Dream Of A Time Before^TM before it throws the metaphorical hammer of truth into the glass of illusion. Scenes where Alice shares her legitimate concerns with the people she cares about feel like a throwback to the constant gaslighting of Farrow’s character in “Rosemary’s Baby.” 

Pugh’s performance legitimizes her character’s Alice-in-Wonderland (pun intended) quagmire. She makes us feel like the only human person stuck in the matrix where everyone else feels like a dated archetype. She drives “Don’t Worry Darling” and its themes with almost superhuman might and has incredible chemistry with Styles. 

Of the rest of the cast, including an excellent Gemma Chan (“Eternals,” 2021) as the cold matriarch with a steely, almost robotic demeanor, the film’s biggest surprise is Layne. Playing the disillusioned Margaret, she might have the shortest runtime. Given the nature of her role, however, she makes the highest impact and ends up being an indirect MacGuffin to the film’s narrative. As for Styles, while his performance feels a bit… off, stick it out, and it starts to implicitly make sense when it all falls into place.

The biggest flaw in the narrative of “Don’t Worry Darling” is the final act, which feels less like the open ending that invites questions and more like a movie that feels incomplete narratively—which sucks because everything else sets up a sinister postmodern psychological thriller that makes a strong feminist statement of taking control in a world that wants to convince you otherwise, and decries the romanticization of nostalgia.

Is the film really a go-to-the-theater movie, though? Depending on what you consider worth going to the cinemas, “Don’t Worry Darling” will be worth the price for the cinematography alone or a fun on-demand watch if you hunger for more “Black Mirror” or “The Twilight Zone” in the comfort of your home.

A previous edition of this review was written in collaboration with—and published in—The Black CAPE Magazine.