Herself (Phyllida Lloyd, 2020)

While I wouldn't make any great claims for Herself, it boasts a few significant elements that raise it above the standard tearjerker. There are a number of plot points that are rather baldly telegraphed, and viewers will have to decide to what extent that mitigates their eventual impact. And formally, director Phyllida Lloyd doesn't have a great deal to contribute most of the time. She has a weakness for Hollywood cliches, like time-compression montages and unctuous music cues, although one gets the sense that this doesn't have to do with lack of respect for her audience. Lloyd is a mainstream filmmaker attempting to veer outside her comfort zone, and some of the stodgier aspects of Herself are probably just the result of muscle memory.

However, the film is unusual in its sharp, visceral depiction of living with PTSD. Sandra (co-writer Clare Dunne) is a mother or two who has been trapped for some time in an abusive relationship with Gary (Ian Lloyd Anderson). With the help of her older daughter Emma (Ruby Rose O'Hara), Sandra manages to get out following a horrifying episode during which Gary punches and kicks Sandra, as well as stomping on her right wrist, causing nerve damage. 

Even after Sandra is relatively safe, Herself interjects brief shots of the attack, emphasizing the fact that these traumatic memories enter Sandra's mind unbidden, based on certain fear and panic triggers. By and large, Herself is constructed like a softer version of Ken Loach's social realism, with all the attention to poverty, bureaucracy, and the tendency of social service programs to hamstring the very people they're designed to help. Lloyd's more conventional style will insure that Herself gains more viewers than Loach typically does.

As you probably know, the main plot of Herself has to do with Sandra opting to build her own house as a way to secure her children's safety for good. This is the most overtly Loachian aspect of the film, as Sandra manages to assemble an unlikely network of friends and acquaintances who agree to pitch in and help her build. Sandra also has a benefactor in Peggy (Harriet Walter), a doctor for whom Sandra has been providing in-home care following an injury. Although we don't necessarily learn why some of Sandra's cohort are so willing to give of their time, we gradually discover that Peggy is hoping to face some traumas of her own. Sandra's exit from enforced isolation and cultivation of a community is the thematic backbone of the film.

But a great deal of the credit for Herself's overall success is due to Clare Dunne. She delivers a highly nuanced performance, particularly considering that some viewers might have appreciated a blunter, more black-and-white depiction of Sandra. She does provide the frequent flashes of pride and resilience that one expects from a triumph-over-adversity narrative, but she is also fragile, petulant, and even emotionally conflicted over the end of her violent marriage. Despite the clear-cut understanding that spousal abuse is criminally inexcusable, the situation is unavoidably messy when one's assailant is someone you once loved . Herself risks political incorrectness by showing just how deeply these traumas can distort a woman's sense of self, and in so doing shows that you really can't keep a good woman down.