It takes fewer than fifteen minutes of screen time for Charlotte Bronn's life to become intolerably oppressive. Surrounded by people who claim to love her, she is told what she needs, when to sleep, and what to eat, as if being institutionalized has rendered her incapable of either independent thought or self-preservation.Except, it was like this before — before anything went south, before Charlotte got "sick." Her older, professor husband always treated her like a student, telling her what color her hair should be and what to like; her frantically self-obsessed step-mother always left Charlotte "breathless" with her endless chatter and commands; her step-sister has always handled her, like an inconvenient child whose head must be patted from time to time. It is compulsory domesticity that has shattered Charlotte: the constant pressure to perform — to be sweet and charming; to be tireless and adoring; to be understanding and blind to anything untoward.She describes the institution where she has spent the past year as "a waiting place" rather than one of healing. It is a place where she experienced repeated shock treatments, and was brought back in line with polite, 1950s culture: reminded that she adores her husband and is adored in return, that she must keep her opinions to herself, and that she must believe the best of everyone, regardless of what she sees in front of her (believing her eyes is the path to "madness"). A place where her cracks were papered over, and her independence carefully snuffed out.And yet, improbably, there are people around Charlotte who truly care. Even more improbably, those people are men — they are unlikely to truly understand what she is experiencing, but who see her mania and want to help. Whereas Charlotte's husband responds with anger to almost her every wish and act (for buying clothes; for needing him; for wanting), these men — a near stranger and a former boyfriend to whom Charlotte has made it clear time will not be turning back — fret and reach out. Whereas Charlotte's husband itches to put her back behind a locked door, these men make themselves available to her at a moment's notice, determined to be part of her healing, not her warehousing. While it is perhaps unexpected that men reach out to steady Charlotte in her time of most profound need, it is not surprising that the women around her do not. Because, if Charlotte escapes from the system in which they are fully ensconced, what has been the point of all of their careful shaping of themselves to be just right? If Charlotte can break free — and, even worse, find happiness on the outside — what does it mean about the sacrifices they've made to shackle themselves to their assigned roles? In order for their lives to be worth living, these women must turn their backs on Charlotte, rejecting her desires, and her frustration, and her desperation.
