OSCARS 2023: Tell It Like A Woman (2022)

It's not uncommon for one of the Oscar nominees to stick out as especially arbitrary. In the history of random-ass movies to get nominated for an Oscar, is there any more random-ass a title than "Tell It Like a Woman?" When this year's slate was announced, there was a collective exclamation of confusion around it. It seemed like the film was barely released, leading some to joke that it wasn't real. But we all know why "Tell It Like A Woman," a film nobody knew existed, managed to score an Oscar nomination. The Academy has, for whatever reason, made a running gag of nominating Diane Warren in the Best Song category every year. Warren contributing a song to this obscure feature led the Academy to bless their favorite perpetual runner-up with her fourteenth nomination. This is presumably how this movie nobody has heard of somehow earned a minor place in Hollywood history. 

So what is "Tell Like a Woman?” It is an omnibus feature composed of women telling stories about women. Taraji P. Henson's “Percy & Kim” follows an inmate struggling with drug addiction, as she goes through therapy. Catherine Hardwicke's “Elbow Deep” concerns a worker for a homeless outreach program during the pandemic, as she cleans an especially troubled girl. Lucía Puenzo's “Lagonegro” has Ava returning to her childhood home of Corsica to bury her sister and take in a niece she doesn't know. Mipo Oh's “A Week in My Life” is about a beleaguered Japanese mom as she raises two kids and work a full-time job. Maria Tognazzi's “Unspoken” tracks a veterinarian as she helps a desperate patient. Leena Yadav's “Sharing a Ride” sees a Bombay plastic surgeon unexpectedly help a transwoman. Meanwhile, the animated “Aria” tells a symbolic story about people being set free from the paths set out for them.

“Percy & Kim” is, unfortunately, mawkish in the extreme. Jennifer Hudson gives an utterly grotesque performance as “Kim.” Kim's struggles are awkwardly presented by having multiple versions of Hudson arguing with each other or monologuing directly to the camera. Hudson is a talented performer but her performance here is grotesque. She effects overdone body languages and haircuts to show  the different aspects of Kim's personality. Unfortunately, this results mostly in Hudson screaming profanity and speaking in goofy voices. This approach borders offensive during a sequence where Kim recounts her childhood sexual abuse, while wearing pigtails and talking in a high-pitched little girl voice. Henson's visual approach is borderline amateurish. The editing, utilizing slow fades to black, is distractingly blunt. The camera work is annoyingly shaky and the soundtrack intrusive. When combine with the shallow screenplay, it all gives the impression of bad community theater.

The film's less-than-sensitive approach to mental health and questionable creative choices continues with “Elbows Deep.” Cara Delevingne's performance as “Validation,” the homeless schizophrenic, is frankly embarrassing. She quivers, snorts, squeaks, grimaces, and mutters. The character leans into every stereotype about the homeless and mentally ill, being abjectly filthy and inhumanly eccentric. The unfortunate visual approach seen in the first segment continues here, as Hardwicke often frames the shots in bizarrely off-center ways. The soundtrack is similarly deafening and obvious. The worst part is there's just not much to this segment narratively. It's mostly composed of a doctor and her assistant getting a woman out of her dirty clothes. You're kind of left wondering what the point of this was.

“Lagonegro,” at the very least, isn't as roughly directed as the first two segments. The cinematography here is clear and the editing doesn't immediately pull you out. The script remains drippy though. Characters more-or-less directly explain their feelings while every dramatic moment is emphasized with blaring music. Once the conflict of Ana having to choose between her career and taking care of her niece appears, it's obvious where this story is going. As the episode flatly moves towards its climax, any suspense or investment totally deflates. “Unspoken” is similarly let-down by an obvious script, moving towards an improperly clean-cut conclusion that is set-up in a blatant way and ends abruptly. This undermines an approach that was decently understated, even if it never connects with the themes of animals and parenthood. 

If most of “Tell It Like a Woman” is stylistically inert, “Sharing a Ride” and “Aria” are self-consciously showy. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Leena Yadav has directed music videos before this. That's what the segment feels like at times, such as during a lengthy montage devoted to the protagonist stepping into a photoshoot. And especially in its climax, which is built around showcasing Warren's song. The rest of the short is burdened by loud comic relief, a protagonist that is somehow both underwritten and overacted, and a script that follows the tired trope of a cisgendered person helping out a trans individual. “Aria,” meanwhile, employs obvious symbolism of observation, people forced to predestined paths, and breaking free to express themselves. When combined with its animated status – which is uninspired, with generic character designs – it makes for a baffling note to end the film on. 

“A Week in My Life” is one of the few times “Tell It Like a Woman” approaches subtly. The sequence does a good job of depicting how constantly exhausted and overwhelmed its protagonist is without going into histrionics. Smartly, Towa, the dinosaur-obsessed young son, is depicted as hyperactive but never obnoxious. He's just a normal kid, overflowing with energy. The mom clearly has her plate full, sometimes being pushed towards cracking, but remains dedicated to her children. The attention to the banalities of everyday responsibilities, all the tasks she has to do every day, are well-done. The climax of the story is actually cutely touching, showing that these kids do love their mom and appreciate all the sacrifices she makes for them. 

You can tell the producers of “Tell It Like a Woman” were determined to get the most of Diane Warren's theme song. “Applause” is heard in its entirety three times, with both the standard version and a dance remix playing back-to-back over the end credits. As far as Warren's overwritten ballads go, it's mildly catchy and singer Sofia Carson has a nice voice. But the melodies are overproduced and it features the lyrics “You're a supernova superstar.” I don't think Warren is going to win an Oscar for this one. Nor should the accompanying movie, a hodgepodge of stylistically incompatible segments that largely vary from sappy to insensitive.  Only Oh's installment rises above mediocre. “Tell It Like a Woman,” when it is remembered at all, will surely be recalled as one of the most inexplicable Oscar nominees. [5/10]