What Does a Sympathetic Portrayal of Sexual Assault on Screen Look Like?
As Sexual Assault Awareness Month comes to an end, I’d like to urge viewers and filmmakers to take a long and hard look at how rape is portrayed on screen.

When romance novelist Kate Smith suddenly gets writer's block as she's beginning the final installment of her international bestselling steamy Bed 'n Breakfast series, she'll do pretty much anything to get her groove back. Like sneak into a Tire Depot waiting room because her words flow there just like complimentary coffee-smooth, sweet, and scorchingly hot. She manages to fly under the radar until the rugged and charming mechanic, Miles Hudson, notices the quirky redhead slinking in and out of the employees only entrance. But she's way too intriguing to blow the whistle on. Doing a test-drive of her new book idea sounds like a much better option.
As Sexual Assault Awareness Month comes to an end, I’d like to urge viewers and filmmakers to take a long and hard look at how rape is portrayed on screen.
Shortly after season two of Fleabag dropped on Amazon Prime in 2019, Barack Obama put it on his list as one of his favorite television series of the year.
I understood post-memory as passing down stories and images of one’s experiences that are not your own. For decades, rape has been depicted in cinema through a third-person perspective, leaving the viewer to observe rape; not to experience it.
With This is Us now on its fifth season and A Million Little Things on its third, we have a lot of material to entertain the hypothetical: if these two shows got in the ring together, who would come out victorious? Despite the endless recognition for the former’s success, I dare say I’d put my money on A Million Little Things once all is said and done.
“Nobody 2” is the kind of sequel you expect to roll your eyes at—and then end up grinning through the whole thing. Bob Odenkirk proves once again that an ordinary-looking guy can be the most entertaining action hero alive, battling cartels with harpoons, deep fryers, and pure chaos. Toss in Sharon Stone as a delightfully over-the-top villain, and you’ve got 89 minutes of wild, joyful mayhem that reminds you why going to the movies is just plain fun.