Una (2017)

Una is the kind of film that grabs you by the collar and refuses to let go, powered almost entirely by two fearless performances that feel less like acting than like raw nerve. Benedict Andrews stages the story with a claustrophobic, pressure-cooker intensity—part drama, part psychological thriller—where every pause, glance, and half-finished sentence carries the weight of years. Rooney Mara and Ben Mendelsohn turn a confrontation into a riveting duel of memory, denial, and need, making the movie gripping even when it’s deeply uncomfortable. Fair warning: it centers on grooming and trauma, and it offers no soothing catharsis, but if you can handle challenging material, it’s an electric, unsettling watch that lingers long after the credits.

Una is clearly aiming for a raw, confrontational look at grooming, trauma, and the messy aftermath of a long-buried abuse dynamic, largely through a pressure-cooker face-to-face between Rooney Mara and Ben Mendelsohn. The problem is that it’s intentionally talky and stage-bound, so if you want momentum, catharsis, or even a sense of emotional “release,” it can feel remote, draining, and oddly unsatisfying by design. It also asks you to sit with disturbing material and moral discomfort without offering easy signposts, which some viewers will read as brave and others as punishing. If you can handle heavy themes and appreciate intense performances in a claustrophobic chamber-drama format, it’s compelling; if you’re hoping for a thriller’s propulsion or a clearer sense of closure, this probably isn’t your night.