‘Woman of the Hour’ Review: Anna Kendrick Directs a Chilling Thriller About a 1970s Serial Killer Who Appeared on ‘The Dating Game’
Danny Zovatto portrays Rodney Alcala, a serial killer who masked his violent nature with a facade of soft-spoken charm, ultimately landing a spot on one of the most kitschy shows in American television history.
A Notorious Moment in Daytime TV: The Chilling Case of Rodney Alcala on ‘The Dating Game’
On September 13, 1978, viewers witnessed a shocking moment in television history when one of the three bachelors competing on The Dating Game was revealed, years later, to be Rodney Alcala—a serial killer. Arrested the following year, Alcala was convicted of five murders, though it is believed he may have claimed as many as 130 victims. With his smooth charm and striking appearance, Alcala fit the image of a ‘70s "ladykiller." Sporting a coiffed hairstyle and a chiseled smile reminiscent of performers like the Hudson Brothers or Engelbert Humperdinck, he radiated a mix of charisma and concealed menace, answering questions with a confidence that bordered on aggression.
The Dating Game epitomized the kitschy vibe of 1970s TV. With its cheerful, Herb Alpert-inspired theme music and bright, flower-power set design, the show leaned into its playful, suggestive nature, almost as a parody of the sleazy undercurrents of Los Angeles’ dating culture. Each episode climaxed with the bachelorette choosing a bachelor, who would then emerge for a ritual kiss and an awkward embrace, as host Jim Lang announced their prize—a weekend getaway, perhaps to a place like Tucson, Arizona—as if they were already a couple. It was, in many ways, a precursor to shows like The Bachelorette. But the fact that a seemingly normal, charming man like Alcala—who lured women with his good looks before brutally murdering them—once stood at the center of this show is both a disturbing chapter of TV history and a chilling metaphor. For women navigating the sexual revolution, the real-life "dating game" was far more dangerous than it appeared.
Anna Kendrick’s film, Woman of the Hour, explores this bizarre, only-in-America tale of social and cultural crime. Marking her directorial debut, Kendrick brings this true story to life, working from a script by Ian McDonald, and stars as Cheryl Bradshaw, an aspiring actress struggling to make a name for herself when her agent arranges for her to be a bachelorette on The Dating Game. Though Cheryl finds the show tacky, she sees it as a chance to gain exposure.
Kendrick’s direction moves fluidly through the 1970s, depicting several of Alcala’s encounters and murders. Daniel Zovatto portrays Alcala, capturing his unsettling duality—his soft, sincere demeanor that could quickly shift to a cold, smoldering anger. With long hair and a leather jacket, Alcala posed as a photographer, using his camera as a tool to lure young women, often underage, under the guise of helping them become models. Once they lowered their guard, he would strike. These sequences are effective, but don’t quite reach the nuanced complexity found in films like Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, which portrayed the crimes of Ted Bundy.
The film’s core lies in the recreation of the Dating Game episode, which Kendrick presents with a dark, almost surreal energy. However, at times, she overemphasizes the metaphor, clearly illustrating how the show was a “meat grinder” with its double entendres and the abrasive behavior of its host, played by Tony Hale as Ed Burke. Unlike the original Cheryl, who was directed to be flirtatious, Kendrick’s portrayal of her character is more defiant, refusing to play the role of a compliant sex symbol.
As Cheryl questions the bachelors, including Alcala, Kendrick’s performance is captivating. As a director, she takes a nearly postmodern approach, aiming not just to recreate the past but to deconstruct the underlying themes of TV entertainment and the male aggression that could escalate into violence.
The film also introduces a character named Laura (Nicolette Robinson), a woman in the audience who recognizes Alcala as bachelor #3 and is struck by fear—she knew one of his victims and had tried, unsuccessfully, to report her suspicions to the police. This subplot, though rooted in reality, feels underdeveloped and somewhat forced.
The most compelling scene occurs after the show, when Alcala convinces Cheryl to meet him for drinks at a dive bar before their official date in Carmel, California. The tension in their interaction builds to an unnerving climax in a parking lot. In real life, Cheryl chose not to go on the planned date with Alcala because she sensed something was off about him. The film delivers a satisfying conclusion as Alcala is eventually caught, outmaneuvered by a victim who exploits his vanity. Yet, while Woman of the Hour captures the eerie moment when American violence seeped through the glossy veneer of televised entertainment, it sometimes lacks deeper resonance, connecting all the dots for the audience rather than allowing the story to speak for itself