The 1982 song “Come On Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners has nothing to do with the 2023 slow-burn thriller Eileen (dir. William Oldroyd, based on the 2015 novel Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh and adapted for the screen by Moshfegh and husband Luke Goebel). Did that stop “Come on Eileen” from playing in my head throughout the movie, and the rest of the week? No, it did not.
The novel and film are set in 1964, so there’s no justification for my expectation of hearing the song – no direct connection. And there’s the loose idea of a down-on-her-luck working-class girl who keeps trudging on, which could be broadly applied to the titular Eileen in the film. But beyond that, metaphorically, or emotionally, there is also something in the wanting. A desire to be seen as that “so grown up” girl, that pursued woman.
Eileen’s desire unapologetically drives the film. Kudos to any film that can squeeze two female masturbation scenes into the first ten minutes. Don’t get too excited (pun fully intended), both are deeply uncomfortable. It’s clear that Eileen, played pitch-perfect by Thomasin McKenzie, isn’t just horny – she’s lonely. Professionally frustrated in a temp job at a juvenile detention facility that’s lasted years past its expiration date, in a town where her father was once the police chief but is now the crazy town drunkard and her only real companion. No friends, no romantic prospects, no degree, no plans for getting out, and fostering a rich and troubled internal life.
The breathtaking casual cruelty of Eileen’s father Jim, played by Shea Whigham, who finds endlessly inventive ways to tell her she’s a boring nobody, might eventually drive anybody to violence. Violent fantasies interrupt scenes frequently, with no lead-up. Eileen is balancing on a knife’s edge.
In comes Rebecca, a glamorous new prison psychiatrist, played by Anne Hathaway. When these women’s paths cross, we’ve already seen Eileen’s fantasies projected onto strangers, inmates, and coworkers alike. We get to watch in real time as Eileen’s fantasies latch on to Rebecca.
It’s not immediately apparent what Rebecca’s interest in Eileen is, besides her being the only woman under the age of 50 at the detention center. Or maybe Rebecca’s psychological training (or just basic social observational skills) clue her into Eileen’s fascination with her, and again, who doesn’t want to be wanted? Fashion-forward, Harvard-educated Rebecca sticks out in small-town Massachusetts like a red BMW in a parking lot of brown Plymoths. She has no local friends, and the casual sexism at the detention center doesn’t spark a lot of hope for her getting close to most of her colleagues.
Genre fans who watch thrillers with a cynical/critical eye might see untoward intentions in Eileen and Rebecca’s kindling friendship. For me, the queer text combined with the time period work just as well as an explanation for their cautious steps toward each other. Rebecca may look more outwardly successful and together, but their date at the bar shows us she’s got a messy, violent side to her, too. And then there’s the kiss. Enough clear interest on each side for something more. Maybe they’re a match made in heaven.
But this is a thriller, not a romance. Desire tends to turn dark in thrillers, and this film is no exception. Even in the bar scene, when we start to get a sense that there could be wanting on both sides, we’re so close to Eileen’s near-euphoric experience of being favored that we barely see Rebecca. This isn’t the blossoming of new love. This is a blinding obsession.
If you’re a fan of twisty thrillers, this one had some subtle second act misdirection that worked really well for me – YMMV. I did see the first major twist coming, but I did not predict how it would play out. The entire watch up to that point was worth it for the gut-wrenching monologue by Marin Ireland as Rita Polk, the mother of a detained teen boy. Days later, when I’m not singing “Come On Eileen”, I’m still thinking of her scene.
I’m a fan of an open ending. This movie leaves some dangling threads that may frustrate some viewers. I felt like I got what I came for, and I appreciated the clever nod to the final girl trope in the final shot. Curl up in something cozy and have a tall glass of something strong, and this could be a solid viewing choice over the holidays.
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By Tiffany Albright
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