Unnatural & Accidental Meta (essay)
Timelines, Rita, and who the hell is Aunt Shadie? Making sense of Unnatural & Accidental.
Also known as: a big mess of my thoughts jumbled up on the page, adding up to 2800 words.
Spoilery, of course.
Working on the movie post for Unnatural & Accidental made me think a lot about the structure of the film and my take on the various characters. Ultimately, I think I resolved a lot of my questions about the structure to my own satisfaction, but raised more questions about the creative decisions behind that structure.
See, the film is pretty darn confusing with regard to who is alive and who is dead at any given time. Rita (Tantoo Cardinal) is clearly dead throughout; though she walks and talks, she's a ghostly presence, and one that doesn't interact with live people (fully live -- Rebecca's dying father being the exception) until the climax.
The rest of the victims (Red Girl [Trina Sxwithul'Txw], Purple Girl [Quelemia Sparrow], Blue Girl [Tinsel Korey], Orange Girl [Sophie Merasty], Pink Girl [Michelle Thrush], Mavis [Margo Kane], and I think the bartender [Marie Clements] is also a victim, although many of the following clues don't apply to her) are much more ambiguous. All appear in what seem to be representations of their ordinary, pre-Norman lives, all appear in the police ledger of missing women, all are murdered in the course of the film, and all ultimately appear as definitely ghostly as Rita.
However, the timeline of their deaths makes no sense: Rebecca's story appears to take place over only a couple of days, but in that time Norman is seen to kill a minimum of five women. Mavis in particular is confusing, as she seems most firmly connected to reality-as-Rebecca-perceives-it, and her death seems most likely to take place in Rebecca's timeline. Further, when the victims interact with Rebecca, they drop heavy clues about her mother, their deaths, the danger lurking, which shows them as having insight into the situation more than a simple point A to point B timeline would allow.
So I think most of the victims (with the possible exception of Mavis) are dead by the time Rebecca starts her search. Her very first interaction on the street happens before she even gets out of her cab: the cab hits Purple Girl, who delivers a scathing and foreshadowing, "Watch yourself!" and nearly every woman she meets is ultimately revealed as one of Norman's victims. Rebecca's timeline is linear and spans a relatively short period of time, while the victims and Norman are presenting a condensed version of their lives and deaths for the (torture and) benefit of the viewing audience. Showing the murders to the audience in this way, with the audience's knowledge of Rebecca's interactions with the victims, gives the impression that Rebecca is unraveling a mystery (it structurally resembles a crime plot, where she would find a clue and uncover the murders, one by one), when in fact she isn't -- or that what she's actually discovering over much of the film is her own vulnerability to the streets and alcohol and a similar fate as her mother/the other victims. This is complicated by the way many of the scenes of violence are framed to suggest they're visions Rebecca is seeing, but I'm not sure what do to with her visions, except to observe that they serve to educate her about the violence and the preying on these women without serving as particularly practical clues as to what to do or whom to suspect. The ultimate revealing of Norman and the murders has little, clue-wise, to do with the rest of the film; instead it's the result of aggressive steps by the ghostly victims to put Rebecca and Norman together, and a handy little coincidence that she discovers his trophies.
Trying to make sense of the timeline converged for me with thinking about Rita. Because, as much as I fangirl Tantoo Cardinal, the portrayal of Rita bothers me. She's a very different kind of dead from the rest of the victims; she's serene, strong, has the significant power of voiceover and so voice, and she's entirely separate from her own pre-death self in a way that the others are denied until Norman's death -- not their own. Another difference is how nearly every victim appears topless before or during their deaths, their bared bodies emphasizing their status as vulnerable, as objects, as something fucked and consumed, but Rita appears topless in a pretty, quiet room with natural light, her nudity registering more as not-young and rather brave (associating for me more with the actress) in contrast to the sexually brutalized and exploited nudity of the others (associating for me more with the characters). And because of her different kind of dead-ness, her life since leaving home is far more opaque and unknowable than that of the other victims. (Here the weirdly underexplored information that she is "Aunt Shadie" and some kind of helper comes into play, more on that later.)
I wondered if it was miscasting/typecasting somehow, as Cardinal excels at roles like this one, and it would be more of an acting stretch to have her portray a lost, angry, self-destructive character like the other victims. But that's not it; Cardinal could easily portray a more sordid version of Rita, as she suggests in the brief opening sequence as nude!Rita. Further, there's clearly meaning and intent in her different portrayal. She's associated with traditional dress and an ideal/idealized past (her outfit both has traditional First Nations elements and, as she recognizes, is one she wore before she was sent away from her family), with nature (snow, trees), with traditional hunting techniques. She's explicitly associated with traditional First Nations ways (assuming objects/symbols/speech I see as "traditional" and "authentic" -- very problematic concepts, especially for a non-knowledgeable or invested person like my non-First Nations, non-Canadian self -- are what I think they are or mean what I think they mean), and her voiceover frequently mentions loss -- connecting the loss of community and skills and a general sense of First Nations-ness with the fate of the victims, as much their life on the Vancouver streets as their deaths at Norman's hands.
[And here I think some of the meta message of the film comes through, because Norman's rather inexplicable status early in the film as a voice of (compromised, but real) authority (in an AA-like meeting, in his seminars for inmates) associate him generally with dominant, non-First Nations authority/knowledge. And while the film devotes disappointingly few techniques to pointing out the authorities'/society's neglect of the victims (the newspapers throughout, the early scenes with the dismissive pathologist) in favor of extended and repeated scenes death scenes, I think the early scenes of Norman set him up as more than just one loser with a serious mental glitch but as an active limb of a malignant establishment. Rita's voiceover refers repeatedly to "the Taker," clearly Norman, but equally clearly more-than-Norman, especially in her final words that continue to discuss "the Taker" now that Norman (not what Norman represents) has been eradicated, and meaningfully concludes with the plural: "But what he doesn't know, what the Taker can never understand, is that we've walked these trails for so long, we know every turn, every curve, every lie they use to kill us" (with "these trails" nicely coinciding with a view of Vancouver rather than the aerial nature shots that follow).
See also the choice to make him a mechanic rather than a barber (as the RL murderer is/was), and the double meaning possible in his speech about his profession: "Understanding your trade means knowing what needs replacing, what needs repairing, what needs installing, and what needs maintenance. And when you figure that out, do it in a timely manner. That way you gain your customer's trust. Know your tools, right? Keep 'em clean, keep 'em orderly, they'll keep you safe from injury. Know the car you're working on. Know that you come from a long tradition between man and machine. Remember that, it'll serve you well. I remember what this day meant for me. It meant a second chance, a clean start. I know that might not mean much inside here, but out there it means everything." Which is immediately followed by a cut to Norman walking down the street -- a nicely composed shot with a First Nations woman centered in the frame, ambiguously a possible victim or a possible agent of resistance against him -- an activity suggested the movie's events and by Rita's voiceover as being him-as-hunter (him seeing himself as hunter). Norman is pretty clear on what he thinks needs work: First Nations people and specifically First Nations women need killing. Thus, Rita implies that the loss of/separation from First Nations community and memories leads to killing by the streets and by a malignant/neglectful dominant society most cruelly and obviously embodied by Norman.]
But, back to Rita v. the other victims, I frustrate myself trying to figure out why she gets such a better deal, why she in particular gets the powerful voiceover and the nice clothes and so very many privileges denied the other victims. And I think the answer has to do with POV. Rita powerfully brackets the film, from the opening scene where she sets the story in action with the decision to "wait around a while--see what [she] can get up to." I read that as Rita initiating the hauntings/timeline wackiness that clue in both the viewer and Rebecca to the murders, culminating in her physical presence in the final confrontation. Therefore, I think the representation of Rita and of the other victims stem from Rita herself; she is sharing information to help unravel the mystery and for whatever reason the lives and deaths she shares are those of others, not herself.
So that is helpful for me, in that Rita having power over the POV helps explain the different treatment of her and the other victims. In the narrative as ordered by Rita, she has already gained some freedom in the afterlife, but the other victims are not freed until some sort of justice is meted out to Norman. It frustrates me on an individual character level, but it kind of works as metaphor: Rita as a vengeful, rooted, active representation of victimized First Nations women working on behalf of others similarly victimized. (I said I'd talk about Aunt Shadie, but I'm not sure I actually know what to make of that. It's Rita's other name -- a person twice referred to as a helper, a finder of the lost, one who helps with the paperwork. The first mention of her as such is by Pink Girl, and I think Pink Girl is dead already in that scene, so there Aunt Shadie could be Rita's afterlife role [which makes bits like "You know who you should talk to is Aunt Shadie. She helps people to look for people down here in all the agencies. She helps with the paperwork. You want her number? Shit. Phone's cut off" kind of humorous as I picture afterlife agencies and the frustration of phones not so much working for the dead]. Later, Norman mentions Aunt Shadie as well, using similar terms to describe her work, so it seems more likely that Aunt Shadie was Rita's nickname while alive, and that her behavior since her death might to a certain extent mirror her actions while alive. It's a tantalizing and frustrating hint of something that might help set Rita apart as one with the power, initiative, or ability to help. I want more information! With the exception of the opening sequence, we're given next to no idea of what Rita's life was like, and so she seems a holy victim with spiritual powers, contrasting too strongly with the very human-as-opposed-to-holy, very sordid, very emotionally accessible other victims.)
Another twist is Rebecca's status as bi-racial, presumably raised by whites (her father, the priest), highlighted when Red Girl mocks her when selling her light cigarettes, her status as professional, sober, all these markers that set her apart when she starts her search. The course of the film strips much of that gloss and separate-ness from her, culminating in the moment when she (not on camera, but strongly suggested), takes a physical knife from her mother's ghost/spirit (in traditional dress, surrounded by the other victims now also in traditional dress, with trees and snow magically appearing to bring nature itself into the garage) and uses it to kill Norman, a death strongly mirroring and foreshadowed by Rita's voiceover references to hunting and her on-screen action of cleaning a kill. Is Rebecca restored to her mother in the course of the film? Is she made more First Nations somehow by taking revenge against Norman/the embodied racism of the dominant culture? It does seem like it could be read as a very stereotypical, reductionist 'First Nations is First Nations through violence and nature' message. Or, more helpfully and less insulting, an embrace of an active First Nations-ness that pushes back against oppression, using its strengths (community, certainly -- vengeance happens when the women are most united) to resist the many ways dominant culture attempts to silence, make invisible, and destroy First Nations people. But then my brain gets confused and I remember that vengeance is only possible when a shitload of First Nations women are dead, which isn't so hot for the women-power/community-power reading. Remember how I said Rita brackets the film? The final shot is of her with the other victims, a joyous moment of them united, emphatically dressed in traditional garb, speaking a language that is not English. Yay powerful First Nationsness! But, they're all dead, while the world of the living is shown as a blood-drenched Rebecca and whatever transformation she's undergone since we first met her, an aerial city shot, and Norman's murder and memory getting the press and presumably police attention denied his victims.
Before I wrap up, there's a bit of narrative randomness I wanted to discuss but never quite fit into this essay. During her early visit to the unhelpful police, Rebecca is granted (off the record) a look at a book of missing women. WHY? It's a clue for her, in that it contains pics of the victims and brings her back to Mavis, but why on earth would it be helpful for a woman looking for a missing woman who was never reported missing to look at a book of other missing women? And why are these women in the book? The shots are clearly of their lives now, not the lives they abandoned back home, wherever their lost and lamented homes are. It seems to be instead a book of victims, with "missing" being a word chosen because it connects with the disposability/tenuous-grasp-on-life of First Nations women ("In 1996, government statistics showed that aboriginal women between the ages of 25 and 44 were five times more likely than other women of the same age to die as a result of violence") rather than connects to the actual status of having been reported missing. The book is a stand-in for records of dead women (a far more useful thing to show somebody looking for the missing) and for the newspaper clippings shown throughout the film. The use of the stand-in seems to have no function -- aside from the symbolic association of "missing" discussed above -- other than to confuse the plot and confuse any understanding of who is alive when. /o\ (*coughcough* Unless I'm missing some bit of Canadian knowledge that would make this make sense?)
Anyway, I can't help but feel that trying to sort this film out and make sense of it in some way is going against the intent. The film is so deliberately incoherent, so firmly resists narrative order, that it seems that what the viewer is intended to gain from it has little to do with who is alive at what time or why the book of "missing" women. Is it trying to reject established film/narrative logic in favor of a different (more First Nations? More visceral?) storytelling project? I dunno, and that seems to be setting up a racialized mind v. viscera binary of badness. I haven't read or seen the play, and wonder if the narrative shenanigans make more/a different kind of sense there. I do, though, find the narrative incoherence frustrating and off-putting. Off-putting enough, clearly, to devote days and days to trying to understand it. Sneaky film.
(One last thing. Really! I'm obviously extremely focused on Rita and the other victims. Partly that's due to my finding the [insert color here] Girls and Mavis remarkable characters, very well acted, and the heart of the movie's project, so I like focusing on them. But also, I wonder if I fixate so much on Rita to avoid thinking about Norman and Callum-as-Norman. Because, ow.)
Also known as: a big mess of my thoughts jumbled up on the page, adding up to 2800 words.
Spoilery, of course.
Working on the movie post for Unnatural & Accidental made me think a lot about the structure of the film and my take on the various characters. Ultimately, I think I resolved a lot of my questions about the structure to my own satisfaction, but raised more questions about the creative decisions behind that structure.
See, the film is pretty darn confusing with regard to who is alive and who is dead at any given time. Rita (Tantoo Cardinal) is clearly dead throughout; though she walks and talks, she's a ghostly presence, and one that doesn't interact with live people (fully live -- Rebecca's dying father being the exception) until the climax.
The rest of the victims (Red Girl [Trina Sxwithul'Txw], Purple Girl [Quelemia Sparrow], Blue Girl [Tinsel Korey], Orange Girl [Sophie Merasty], Pink Girl [Michelle Thrush], Mavis [Margo Kane], and I think the bartender [Marie Clements] is also a victim, although many of the following clues don't apply to her) are much more ambiguous. All appear in what seem to be representations of their ordinary, pre-Norman lives, all appear in the police ledger of missing women, all are murdered in the course of the film, and all ultimately appear as definitely ghostly as Rita.
However, the timeline of their deaths makes no sense: Rebecca's story appears to take place over only a couple of days, but in that time Norman is seen to kill a minimum of five women. Mavis in particular is confusing, as she seems most firmly connected to reality-as-Rebecca-perceives-it, and her death seems most likely to take place in Rebecca's timeline. Further, when the victims interact with Rebecca, they drop heavy clues about her mother, their deaths, the danger lurking, which shows them as having insight into the situation more than a simple point A to point B timeline would allow.
So I think most of the victims (with the possible exception of Mavis) are dead by the time Rebecca starts her search. Her very first interaction on the street happens before she even gets out of her cab: the cab hits Purple Girl, who delivers a scathing and foreshadowing, "Watch yourself!" and nearly every woman she meets is ultimately revealed as one of Norman's victims. Rebecca's timeline is linear and spans a relatively short period of time, while the victims and Norman are presenting a condensed version of their lives and deaths for the (torture and) benefit of the viewing audience. Showing the murders to the audience in this way, with the audience's knowledge of Rebecca's interactions with the victims, gives the impression that Rebecca is unraveling a mystery (it structurally resembles a crime plot, where she would find a clue and uncover the murders, one by one), when in fact she isn't -- or that what she's actually discovering over much of the film is her own vulnerability to the streets and alcohol and a similar fate as her mother/the other victims. This is complicated by the way many of the scenes of violence are framed to suggest they're visions Rebecca is seeing, but I'm not sure what do to with her visions, except to observe that they serve to educate her about the violence and the preying on these women without serving as particularly practical clues as to what to do or whom to suspect. The ultimate revealing of Norman and the murders has little, clue-wise, to do with the rest of the film; instead it's the result of aggressive steps by the ghostly victims to put Rebecca and Norman together, and a handy little coincidence that she discovers his trophies.
Trying to make sense of the timeline converged for me with thinking about Rita. Because, as much as I fangirl Tantoo Cardinal, the portrayal of Rita bothers me. She's a very different kind of dead from the rest of the victims; she's serene, strong, has the significant power of voiceover and so voice, and she's entirely separate from her own pre-death self in a way that the others are denied until Norman's death -- not their own. Another difference is how nearly every victim appears topless before or during their deaths, their bared bodies emphasizing their status as vulnerable, as objects, as something fucked and consumed, but Rita appears topless in a pretty, quiet room with natural light, her nudity registering more as not-young and rather brave (associating for me more with the actress) in contrast to the sexually brutalized and exploited nudity of the others (associating for me more with the characters). And because of her different kind of dead-ness, her life since leaving home is far more opaque and unknowable than that of the other victims. (Here the weirdly underexplored information that she is "Aunt Shadie" and some kind of helper comes into play, more on that later.)
I wondered if it was miscasting/typecasting somehow, as Cardinal excels at roles like this one, and it would be more of an acting stretch to have her portray a lost, angry, self-destructive character like the other victims. But that's not it; Cardinal could easily portray a more sordid version of Rita, as she suggests in the brief opening sequence as nude!Rita. Further, there's clearly meaning and intent in her different portrayal. She's associated with traditional dress and an ideal/idealized past (her outfit both has traditional First Nations elements and, as she recognizes, is one she wore before she was sent away from her family), with nature (snow, trees), with traditional hunting techniques. She's explicitly associated with traditional First Nations ways (assuming objects/symbols/speech I see as "traditional" and "authentic" -- very problematic concepts, especially for a non-knowledgeable or invested person like my non-First Nations, non-Canadian self -- are what I think they are or mean what I think they mean), and her voiceover frequently mentions loss -- connecting the loss of community and skills and a general sense of First Nations-ness with the fate of the victims, as much their life on the Vancouver streets as their deaths at Norman's hands.
[And here I think some of the meta message of the film comes through, because Norman's rather inexplicable status early in the film as a voice of (compromised, but real) authority (in an AA-like meeting, in his seminars for inmates) associate him generally with dominant, non-First Nations authority/knowledge. And while the film devotes disappointingly few techniques to pointing out the authorities'/society's neglect of the victims (the newspapers throughout, the early scenes with the dismissive pathologist) in favor of extended and repeated scenes death scenes, I think the early scenes of Norman set him up as more than just one loser with a serious mental glitch but as an active limb of a malignant establishment. Rita's voiceover refers repeatedly to "the Taker," clearly Norman, but equally clearly more-than-Norman, especially in her final words that continue to discuss "the Taker" now that Norman (not what Norman represents) has been eradicated, and meaningfully concludes with the plural: "But what he doesn't know, what the Taker can never understand, is that we've walked these trails for so long, we know every turn, every curve, every lie they use to kill us" (with "these trails" nicely coinciding with a view of Vancouver rather than the aerial nature shots that follow).
See also the choice to make him a mechanic rather than a barber (as the RL murderer is/was), and the double meaning possible in his speech about his profession: "Understanding your trade means knowing what needs replacing, what needs repairing, what needs installing, and what needs maintenance. And when you figure that out, do it in a timely manner. That way you gain your customer's trust. Know your tools, right? Keep 'em clean, keep 'em orderly, they'll keep you safe from injury. Know the car you're working on. Know that you come from a long tradition between man and machine. Remember that, it'll serve you well. I remember what this day meant for me. It meant a second chance, a clean start. I know that might not mean much inside here, but out there it means everything." Which is immediately followed by a cut to Norman walking down the street -- a nicely composed shot with a First Nations woman centered in the frame, ambiguously a possible victim or a possible agent of resistance against him -- an activity suggested the movie's events and by Rita's voiceover as being him-as-hunter (him seeing himself as hunter). Norman is pretty clear on what he thinks needs work: First Nations people and specifically First Nations women need killing. Thus, Rita implies that the loss of/separation from First Nations community and memories leads to killing by the streets and by a malignant/neglectful dominant society most cruelly and obviously embodied by Norman.]
But, back to Rita v. the other victims, I frustrate myself trying to figure out why she gets such a better deal, why she in particular gets the powerful voiceover and the nice clothes and so very many privileges denied the other victims. And I think the answer has to do with POV. Rita powerfully brackets the film, from the opening scene where she sets the story in action with the decision to "wait around a while--see what [she] can get up to." I read that as Rita initiating the hauntings/timeline wackiness that clue in both the viewer and Rebecca to the murders, culminating in her physical presence in the final confrontation. Therefore, I think the representation of Rita and of the other victims stem from Rita herself; she is sharing information to help unravel the mystery and for whatever reason the lives and deaths she shares are those of others, not herself.
So that is helpful for me, in that Rita having power over the POV helps explain the different treatment of her and the other victims. In the narrative as ordered by Rita, she has already gained some freedom in the afterlife, but the other victims are not freed until some sort of justice is meted out to Norman. It frustrates me on an individual character level, but it kind of works as metaphor: Rita as a vengeful, rooted, active representation of victimized First Nations women working on behalf of others similarly victimized. (I said I'd talk about Aunt Shadie, but I'm not sure I actually know what to make of that. It's Rita's other name -- a person twice referred to as a helper, a finder of the lost, one who helps with the paperwork. The first mention of her as such is by Pink Girl, and I think Pink Girl is dead already in that scene, so there Aunt Shadie could be Rita's afterlife role [which makes bits like "You know who you should talk to is Aunt Shadie. She helps people to look for people down here in all the agencies. She helps with the paperwork. You want her number? Shit. Phone's cut off" kind of humorous as I picture afterlife agencies and the frustration of phones not so much working for the dead]. Later, Norman mentions Aunt Shadie as well, using similar terms to describe her work, so it seems more likely that Aunt Shadie was Rita's nickname while alive, and that her behavior since her death might to a certain extent mirror her actions while alive. It's a tantalizing and frustrating hint of something that might help set Rita apart as one with the power, initiative, or ability to help. I want more information! With the exception of the opening sequence, we're given next to no idea of what Rita's life was like, and so she seems a holy victim with spiritual powers, contrasting too strongly with the very human-as-opposed-to-holy, very sordid, very emotionally accessible other victims.)
Another twist is Rebecca's status as bi-racial, presumably raised by whites (her father, the priest), highlighted when Red Girl mocks her when selling her light cigarettes, her status as professional, sober, all these markers that set her apart when she starts her search. The course of the film strips much of that gloss and separate-ness from her, culminating in the moment when she (not on camera, but strongly suggested), takes a physical knife from her mother's ghost/spirit (in traditional dress, surrounded by the other victims now also in traditional dress, with trees and snow magically appearing to bring nature itself into the garage) and uses it to kill Norman, a death strongly mirroring and foreshadowed by Rita's voiceover references to hunting and her on-screen action of cleaning a kill. Is Rebecca restored to her mother in the course of the film? Is she made more First Nations somehow by taking revenge against Norman/the embodied racism of the dominant culture? It does seem like it could be read as a very stereotypical, reductionist 'First Nations is First Nations through violence and nature' message. Or, more helpfully and less insulting, an embrace of an active First Nations-ness that pushes back against oppression, using its strengths (community, certainly -- vengeance happens when the women are most united) to resist the many ways dominant culture attempts to silence, make invisible, and destroy First Nations people. But then my brain gets confused and I remember that vengeance is only possible when a shitload of First Nations women are dead, which isn't so hot for the women-power/community-power reading. Remember how I said Rita brackets the film? The final shot is of her with the other victims, a joyous moment of them united, emphatically dressed in traditional garb, speaking a language that is not English. Yay powerful First Nationsness! But, they're all dead, while the world of the living is shown as a blood-drenched Rebecca and whatever transformation she's undergone since we first met her, an aerial city shot, and Norman's murder and memory getting the press and presumably police attention denied his victims.
Before I wrap up, there's a bit of narrative randomness I wanted to discuss but never quite fit into this essay. During her early visit to the unhelpful police, Rebecca is granted (off the record) a look at a book of missing women. WHY? It's a clue for her, in that it contains pics of the victims and brings her back to Mavis, but why on earth would it be helpful for a woman looking for a missing woman who was never reported missing to look at a book of other missing women? And why are these women in the book? The shots are clearly of their lives now, not the lives they abandoned back home, wherever their lost and lamented homes are. It seems to be instead a book of victims, with "missing" being a word chosen because it connects with the disposability/tenuous-grasp-on-life of First Nations women ("In 1996, government statistics showed that aboriginal women between the ages of 25 and 44 were five times more likely than other women of the same age to die as a result of violence") rather than connects to the actual status of having been reported missing. The book is a stand-in for records of dead women (a far more useful thing to show somebody looking for the missing) and for the newspaper clippings shown throughout the film. The use of the stand-in seems to have no function -- aside from the symbolic association of "missing" discussed above -- other than to confuse the plot and confuse any understanding of who is alive when. /o\ (*coughcough* Unless I'm missing some bit of Canadian knowledge that would make this make sense?)
Anyway, I can't help but feel that trying to sort this film out and make sense of it in some way is going against the intent. The film is so deliberately incoherent, so firmly resists narrative order, that it seems that what the viewer is intended to gain from it has little to do with who is alive at what time or why the book of "missing" women. Is it trying to reject established film/narrative logic in favor of a different (more First Nations? More visceral?) storytelling project? I dunno, and that seems to be setting up a racialized mind v. viscera binary of badness. I haven't read or seen the play, and wonder if the narrative shenanigans make more/a different kind of sense there. I do, though, find the narrative incoherence frustrating and off-putting. Off-putting enough, clearly, to devote days and days to trying to understand it. Sneaky film.
(One last thing. Really! I'm obviously extremely focused on Rita and the other victims. Partly that's due to my finding the [insert color here] Girls and Mavis remarkable characters, very well acted, and the heart of the movie's project, so I like focusing on them. But also, I wonder if I fixate so much on Rita to avoid thinking about Norman and Callum-as-Norman. Because, ow.)