In light of the Hollywood abuse stories, Red Eye deserves a second look
The 2005 thriller starring Rachel McAdams and Cillian Murphy has taken on new significance in the post-Harvey Weinstein world.
It’s probably time to rewatch Red Eye. When it was originally released in the summer of 2005, Wes Craven’s thriller about a woman stuck next to a terrorist on an overnight flight seemed to draw inspiration from the post-9/11 sense of paranoia. Now, amidst the stories that have come out about powerful Hollywood figures like Harvey Weinstein, James Toback, Brett Ratner, Jeffrey Tambor, Louis C.K. and many, many others, Red Eye resonates much more today than it did 12 years ago. In addition to being a quick-paced, thoroughly entertaining thriller, the film is a surprisingly prescient, nuanced exploration of the all-too common violence waged against women.
For the sake of context, Red Eye begins with a meet cute between hotel manager Lisa (Rachel McAdams) and handsome stranger Jackson (Cillian Murphy) in line at the airport in Dallas. Lisa defends a harried airline attendant against a belligerent customer, Jackson comes to her aid, and the two hit it off and eventually discover they’re seatmates on the same flight to Miami. Soon Jackson lets slip that he works in “government overthrows [and] flashy, high-profile assassinations.”
Suddenly it’s clear that these two didn’t meet by chance: Jackson has targeted Lisa because his organization is planning to kill Charles Keefe, the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security, at her hotel.
The majority of the film takes place on the red eye flight and sees Jackson doing whatever he can to coerce Lisa into making a phone call that will seal Keefe’s fate. And Jackson’s behavior will seem mighty familiar to anyone who has been paying attention to the news coming out of Hollywood lately.
The Head Games
Part of the reason Red Eye works as a thriller is because Jackson seems pretty great until he reveals his true colors. He sticks up for Lisa when she’s being bullied, he listens to her and seems genuinely interested in what she has to say, and does gentlemanly things like offering to put her carry-on suitcase in the overhead compartment. Jackson even acts like a reasonable human being when Lisa turns him down for a pre-flight drink. “I didn’t mean to invade your personal space,” he says — and you believe him.
Then Jackson pulls a bait-and-switch after takeoff. His voice and eyes go dead and he threatens to kill Lisa’s father if she doesn’t comply with his plan. It takes Lisa a minute to realize that Jackson isn’t joking. It’s hard for her (and us) to realize that someone so kind and charming could turn on a dime. But he does.
Jackson is well aware of the power he wields over Lisa and has no qualms about flaunting it. When Lisa attempts to flag down a flight attendant for help, Jackson taunts her. “For some reason, Miss Stewardess,” he sing-songs, “this emotionally unstable, rather inebriated girl whom I’ve never met before tonight suddenly went crazy.” That’s right: he implies no one will believe Lisa because she’s emotional and has had something to drink. Where have we heard that before?
What’s more, Jackson — like many predators — constantly twists the situation to make it seem like Lisa is the one at fault. “Do Dad a favor and stop gambling with his life,” Jackson says in disgust when Lisa attempts to fight back. And he follows that up with the standard “This is on you/I’m the real victim here” excuse: “I think you’re not such an honest person,” he says. “I never lied to you, Leese.”
The fact that the film’s villain places the responsibility on his victim is almost laughable until you remember that it happens in the real world every day.
Rachel McAdams and Cillian Murphy in Red Eye. Image via DreamWorks.
The Elephant in the Room
The word rape is never uttered in Red Eye. It doesn’t need to be: the reality of it hangs over every scene. In order to dominate Lisa and ensure she goes along with him, Jackson constantly gets in her face (one could even say he invades her personal space), belittles her, and is physically violent with her. He does not sexually assault Lisa, but the viewer always wonders if that’s where the story is headed.
This underlying dread comes to a head in Red Eye’s most famous scene, which takes place in the plane’s restroom. Having gone in to collect herself, Lisa writes “18F HAS BOMB” on the mirror in soap in the hopes that the next occupant will see it and report Jackson. Unfortunately the next occupant is Jackson.
Overcome with rage, Jackson slams Lisa against the wall and covers her mouth with his hand. “Don’t fight me,” he commands. Throughout the course of the scene, Jackson pins Lisa again against the wall, chokes her, and even pulls her sweater open a little to get a look at her scar (we’ll get to that in a minute). Because of this choreography and the nature of Jackson’s violence, it’s impossible to watch this without thinking of sexual assault. Red Eye knows this and so does Jackson. “Thanks for the quickie,” he deadpans as he lets a shaken Lisa out of the restroom.
The lavatory scene is echoed in the final fight sequence between Lisa and Jackson. Once again he pins her against the wall, but this time he can’t muffle her as she emphatically yells, “No!” She isn’t able to physically overpower him but she perseveres in the fight by calling him out for what he is. “You’re pathetic,” she declares.
Lisa’s exactly right: he is pathetic. No matter how Jackson squares it with himself, it’s pathetic to emotionally or physically coerce someone into doing what you want them to do. It’s pathetic to devalue someone else’s feelings. And it’s pathetic to deflect your terrible behavior onto the person you’ve victimized.
The Wounds That Won’t Heal
In regards to its commentary on gendered violence, Red Eye’s only misstep is that is glosses over how Lisa will cope with what Jackson did to her after she manages to unravel his plan. Luckily, however, the film does explore the long-term ramifications of sexual assault and trauma in other ways.
Early in the film the audience catches a glimpse of the scar on Lisa’s chest, which Jackson notices in the lavatory scene. After Lisa’s made the phone call that effectively signs Keefe’s death warrant, she’s despondent; turns out her interactions with Jackson remind her of how she got the scar. “It happened in a parking lot,” she reveals. “Two years ago, in the middle of the day. He held a knife to my throat the whole time.”
Again, Lisa does not say the word rape, but we know from the pain in her eyes and voice that that’s what happened. And for its duration, Red Eye smartly signals that the violence has permanently affected Lisa: she’s standoffish with strangers, works too much, and doesn’t really have a personal life. Once Jackson drops the nice guy charade, he confesses that he’s been casing her as research for this assignment. “I’ve known you for a while now, Lisa,” he tells her. “As far as I can tell, your life revolves around your job … What turned you into such a loner?” She refuses to answer but the petrified look on her face says it all.
Since Lisa equates the hellish red eye flight with the assault, the character’s backstory is the way the film investigates how sexual violence impacts survivors. Lisa’s body might have healed but she hasn’t fully recovered from the incident — and possibly never will. The audience is not privy to how Lisa processes Jackson’s violation, but it’s seems safe to assume that she will always bear the scars he inflicted upon her, as well.
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Rewatching Red Eye in light of the myriad Hollywood sex abuse revelations, it’s impossible to separate Lisa’s experiences from what hundreds of real-life women (and men) in and out of show business have had to contend with. Like her real world counterparts, Lisa is put into a horrible position by a seemingly benign, more powerful person; horror dawns on Lisa as her interplay with Jackson morphs from friendly to “kind of weird” to downright scary; and the abuse, threats and humiliations she weathers will stay with Lisa a long time, if not forever.
The most terrifying aspect of Red Eye is that — as our culture’s ever-unfolding toxic masculinity problem makes clear — the dynamic between the two main characters could take place anywhere. It already has.