Subtle camera work and sharp editing give the short film The Other Woman (2016) its eerie sensibility and unnerving effect. The film’s setting, place, and characters are quite simple: it’s morning, and two lovers (Kelsey Bahr and Zaid Valez) chat in bed before they get up for the day, flirting with each other and relishing in the high of the night before. As the story progresses, it becomes apparent that they are quite new to each other. They are not long-term partners but still exist in that nebulous space after newly connecting. The woman offers the man coffee, gets up, and prepares coffee in the kitchen. She makes it, notices a message from the man on her cell phone, and then slides back into bed with him. Then, the film repeats the scene, again and again, with subtle distinctions in the framing and editing.
In each articulation of the scene, the camera draws closer and closer to the couples’ faces and uses sharper, more staccato cuts to make the film appear frantic. Although the film draws from previous shots, more and more of the conversation is left out.
The film’s insistence of the reiterations without explanation unnerves the viewer. Then, there is a moment of difference that throws the repetition out of whack. As the woman grabs the cup and begins to return to the bedroom, the coffee is too hot. From there, a cup breaks, she pauses to clean up the spilled liquid, and events take a turn.
Importantly, the characters themselves are neither interesting nor sympathetic. They look generic, as if they could be interchanged for any other pair of white, American college graduates. This blankness is reflected in the film’s setting, which is sparse and neutral. Similarly, their repartee is uninteresting and banal (as probably most people’s pillow talk would be if it were secretly recorded; there’s nothing less interesting than lovers’ intimate talk). But their mundane banter and silly flirtation make the repetitions all that eerier. If this conversation is reiterate here, multiple times, perhaps it is because this conversation is being repeated in different bedrooms all over the country.
The film’s greatest problem lies in its ending, which attempts to solve the reiterations using psychology. Given the psychological motivation that the film gives the woman, the ending seems a little bit of an overreach, quite a bit implausible, and even little bit sexist. As such, the point that is supposed to the most unnerving becomes less chilling than the events and stylizations that lead up to it. It’s a shame, because if the filmmakers were to remove the motivation, the story would maintain its creepiness right up until the credits. This is where a lit bit of Faulkner may be appreciated.