It would have been easy to bump Annie's age up or down a few years, either to explicitly spell out the crime or to blur its boundaries. It would have been even easier to make Charlie a little older, a little less handsome, to really steer home the message. David Schwimmer resists this temptation, because his close experiences working as an advocate for rape victims and their families inform him. It's not always so clear cut, the abuser is not going to make his approach with clear signs of shadiness and evil. This message may be startlingly clear for most adults that watch this film, but for the 14 year old Annie, it is a difficult reality to face.
Liana Liberato would have been about 15 during filming, and it is a crucial element of her character. Too young, and it is unequivocally a horrifying act of abuse, too old, and the boundaries are blurred and audiences might react like Will's boss does. The film starts off like any teenage set film would; with corny shallow siblings, a cool mum that shouts profanities, a caring but slightly overbearing dad, and of course the rather cringe-worthy school gossip scene that has cliques and parties and a whole world of murkiness that parents want to prevent their child from diving into for as long as possible. Schwimmer could have done better here in the world-building and thus create a bigger impact later. He mistakes risqué in the teen girl dialogue for authenticity, when in reality it is rather unbearable, and the best friend is sorely underused, but rather prodded into scenes in order to further the plot. There are signs of societal enabling that show little tack; Will's boss admires a young waitress hungrily, and later is predictably less sympathetic to the news of rape than Schwimmer would like him to be. There's also the explicit advertising industry that Will works and is forced to re-evaluate. At times it seems he is old (and his son exists solely to point this out), and out of his depth in the increasingly profane new world. Finally, the setting of the school is shallow at best, which makes the whole sub-plot of the cyber-bullying website feel unnecessarily cruel and contrived.
There are three great scenes which convince me that Trust can handle this type of issue with maturity and nuance rather than being ham- fisted and insensitive. The first is Annie's confrontation with Will in her room, where the two ideal's clash and he is forced to heartbreakingly retreat when it is clear that she is still convinced of Charlie's genuine and loving intentions. Liberato makes this agonising, because even as we disagree vehemently (as Will clearly does and tries to persuade her), we are saddened deeply that any person would do this to a 14 year old, and even worse, do it so well that she refuses to admit the manipulation. Schwimmer is respectful of her perspective, which is why it is that more heartbreaking when she finally realises what she has been the victim of. It has a much more emotional effect than the screaming matches of Keener and Owen, which seem to be a more artificial conflict created solely to drive Will's increasing madness and hunger for revenge. Still, Lynn's ambitions are motherly, caring and good; she knows that the path ahead is through healing, not anger or vengeance. That paves the way for the second scene, the penultimate talk beside the pool. Many dramas have this type of talk, the reminiscing of older nostalgic times where life was safer, warmer, more cheerful. Clive Owen makes this one work because of his tragic performance where the hardened, protective and raging father crumbles and begs her forgiveness for not shielding her from this harm. There are no offers of a bright happy ending, but one with understanding and healing in time.
The final scene is of course that last haunting segment, where Schwimmer uses the found footage hand-held style to present to us the real life of Charlie. Again, it would have been easy to make him haggard, or a creep, or not handsome. It would have been even easier to end with his just arrest and prosecution, maybe even Annie striking a last blow in her testimony. But instead we are dealt a chilling, harsh blow. This man exists somewhere in society, and is even a teacher with daily correspondence with similarly aged kids. It's a bleak reminder that these things happen all too often, and are often more complicated than they may seem. I admire David Schwimmer for tackling this issue with this sort of maturity and emotional impact. It's not perfect, but he hits the right notes where it matters.
Liana Liberato would have been about 15 during filming, and it is a crucial element of her character. Too young, and it is unequivocally a horrifying act of abuse, too old, and the boundaries are blurred and audiences might react like Will's boss does. The film starts off like any teenage set film would; with corny shallow siblings, a cool mum that shouts profanities, a caring but slightly overbearing dad, and of course the rather cringe-worthy school gossip scene that has cliques and parties and a whole world of murkiness that parents want to prevent their child from diving into for as long as possible. Schwimmer could have done better here in the world-building and thus create a bigger impact later. He mistakes risqué in the teen girl dialogue for authenticity, when in reality it is rather unbearable, and the best friend is sorely underused, but rather prodded into scenes in order to further the plot. There are signs of societal enabling that show little tack; Will's boss admires a young waitress hungrily, and later is predictably less sympathetic to the news of rape than Schwimmer would like him to be. There's also the explicit advertising industry that Will works and is forced to re-evaluate. At times it seems he is old (and his son exists solely to point this out), and out of his depth in the increasingly profane new world. Finally, the setting of the school is shallow at best, which makes the whole sub-plot of the cyber-bullying website feel unnecessarily cruel and contrived.
There are three great scenes which convince me that Trust can handle this type of issue with maturity and nuance rather than being ham- fisted and insensitive. The first is Annie's confrontation with Will in her room, where the two ideal's clash and he is forced to heartbreakingly retreat when it is clear that she is still convinced of Charlie's genuine and loving intentions. Liberato makes this agonising, because even as we disagree vehemently (as Will clearly does and tries to persuade her), we are saddened deeply that any person would do this to a 14 year old, and even worse, do it so well that she refuses to admit the manipulation. Schwimmer is respectful of her perspective, which is why it is that more heartbreaking when she finally realises what she has been the victim of. It has a much more emotional effect than the screaming matches of Keener and Owen, which seem to be a more artificial conflict created solely to drive Will's increasing madness and hunger for revenge. Still, Lynn's ambitions are motherly, caring and good; she knows that the path ahead is through healing, not anger or vengeance. That paves the way for the second scene, the penultimate talk beside the pool. Many dramas have this type of talk, the reminiscing of older nostalgic times where life was safer, warmer, more cheerful. Clive Owen makes this one work because of his tragic performance where the hardened, protective and raging father crumbles and begs her forgiveness for not shielding her from this harm. There are no offers of a bright happy ending, but one with understanding and healing in time.
The final scene is of course that last haunting segment, where Schwimmer uses the found footage hand-held style to present to us the real life of Charlie. Again, it would have been easy to make him haggard, or a creep, or not handsome. It would have been even easier to end with his just arrest and prosecution, maybe even Annie striking a last blow in her testimony. But instead we are dealt a chilling, harsh blow. This man exists somewhere in society, and is even a teacher with daily correspondence with similarly aged kids. It's a bleak reminder that these things happen all too often, and are often more complicated than they may seem. I admire David Schwimmer for tackling this issue with this sort of maturity and emotional impact. It's not perfect, but he hits the right notes where it matters.