Blurred Lines (2024)

Blurred Lines is a film of contradictions. One that asks uncomfortable questions and addresses difficult and painful issues surrounding sexual assault in a manner that acknowledges complexity. But it is also one that feels tonally off and mishandles the approach to the story it really wants to tell.

6 friends gather for a house party on New Year’s Eve. Now older and in committed relationships, the gang look to let their hair down – but when someone’s drink is suspected of being spiked, suspicions arise about lurid pasts. With the night irrecoverable, hidden secrets begin to spill out until a much darker revelation emerges – the untrustworthy Lucas (Mark Agar) is accused of assaulting Chris (Siobhan Aislinn).

Blurred Lines recounts a life-altering night for its ensemble cast – with the survivor story of Siobhan Aislinn’s Chris at its heart. Opening with her recounting of a traumatic event, the film goes on to explore how sexual assault and rape can be distorted amongst people who do not wish to believe. Every incident in a night, every drink, every accusation can lead to doubt being planted – even when the alleged attacker is known to be deceitful. Mark Agar’s performance as Lucas is dark and menacing – perhaps most disturbing in his protests against a label he is fully deserving of.

The film’s ultimate problem however is in its journey to the central issue. The development of the party features the gang reminiscing and socialising until a suspected spiking incident which leads to Lucas and Brian (Robert Anthony Flynn) being locked away in a room upstairs – in what is a full-on unnecessary comedic detour from the main story and themes. There’s something to be said for refraining from black-and-white characterisation, but this section feels redundant and totally out of place. The spiking itself turns out to be something of a red herring in the plot – one that dilutes the spotlight on Lucas’ actions.

The film is at its best when it is not erring towards ‘whodunit’ territory and tackles the issue of sexual assault head-on. The group dynamics begin to ruminate once Chris bravely accuses Lucas – and Agar and Aislinn’s script brilliantly and subtly shows how even friends can turn on each other in the most devastating way. The ‘blurred lines’ of the film are most prominent here, and it is clear that the filmmakers are capable of making powerful statements through the drama of the events that unfold. This is further emphasised with the closing sequence of the film – a nearly dialogue free moment between 2 central female characters that says more than almost any other scene.

When Blurred Lines really locks in on what kind of film it wants to be and what kind of message it wants to say, it is moving and powerful. It is bogged down by too much filler and build-up, much of which bloats it far beyond what is necessary to communicate its point and upsets its tone – unfortunate considering its topic is one of incredible sensitivity. A much more focused approach would have served the script well, and allowed the performance of the cast and the powerful concluding scenes – the film’s undoubted highlights – to leave a much bigger impact on the viewer.