“Verity” and Grief’s Numerous Forms

“Verity is a mystery movie” is a statement that is technically correct, but does not do justice to the film.  It is just as much style as it is substance, if not more so.  It is no coincidence that the script feels similar to a mystery book, considering it is based on Colleen Hoover’s 2018 acclaimed novel.  It is just as sensual as it is dark.  But what’s more interesting than the genre or style that the film takes is its approach to grief.  Specifically, not the grief of pure loss, but of loss by addition. 

Mild spoilers for the first half of the film ahead. 

Verity centers around an author, Lowen Ashleigh (Dakota Johnson) who is tasked with stepping into the shoes of a much more famous author, Verity Crawford (Anne Hathaway).  She is given this task because Verity has gotten into a massive car accident shortly after her daughter drowned in a canoeing accident.  She is being cared for by her nurse, her husband Jeremy (Josh Hartnett), and her son Crew.  But the story takes a dark turn when Lowen Ashleigh finds evidence that Verity caused the death of her daughter. 

Jeremy’s grief is straightforward.  The absolute loss of his daughter and the substantive loss of his wife takes the form of bottling up emotions, and the inevitable explosion of emotions when the bottle is uncorked.  But audiences should not be fooled, Verity Crawford’s grief is also on display.  The manuscript which seemingly details her plot to kill her daughter also details her motivation.  She hated her new life with children, feeling like she has substantively lost her husband and her freedom.  She resents the children as a burden. 

Viewers are supposed to be shocked, and rightfully so.  The act of murder, especially of your own young child, is of the highest order of evil.  But the audience is asked to do more.  It is asked to see the emotions, nay, the mere impulse that motivates Verity’s actions as just as plainly evil as her actions.  Indeed, seeing valuable life as merely a nuisance to be disposed of is, of course, reprehensible.  But the near complete loss of freedom that comes with having children, the shock of being torn away from your former life and being given incomparable responsibilities, naturally gives rise to these emotions.  This is not to say that everyone feels this way when they have children, but it is to say that such feelings can be natural. 

Having a nuanced, psychological conversation about these emotions is essential.  Because, of course, acting on those emotions is so awful.  But just like how Jeremy Crawford bottles up his emotions until he cries, Verity Crawford bottled up her emotions until she acted completely irrationally.  That is a reflection of real life, where the more we (understandably) repress and stigmatize naturally occurring emotions, the more we take away safety valves and increase the chances of tragedy.  By seeking to make thoughts related to an act unacceptable, we often times unintentionally increase the chances of those acts occurring.  People should be free to honestly admit their emotions and work through them, rather than being forced to hide them. 

Parenthood is hard.  Parenthood can be traumatic.  Intrusive thoughts can happen to any of us. We shouldn’t be afraid to admit that.  Additionally, between pregnancy, caretaking, and numerous other responsibilities, so much of the responsibility falls on the mother.  That isn’t to say fathers don’t have heavy duties too, but it is to say that by shunning people who feel loss at the prospect of being a parent, we disproportionately silence women’s experiences. 

The actions that Verity Crawford confesses to are apocalyptically tragic.  But the way to prevent those types of actions in real life isn’t to force the related emotions into the shadows.  It is to bring them into the light so that the sunlight can extinguish the darkness.  It is to have honest conversations about the burden that is suffered in the process of the miracle of child-rearing, so that we no longer need to hide but instead can live.