When the rickety ladder that gets them to a tiny platform at the structure's top falls to smithereens, the women suddenly discover new meanings of SOL. The film is nothing if not an excuse to gloriously parade a series of show-stopping, sweaty-palm scenes, yet it becomes a deeply psychological, intricate twin character study as Mann gradually peels back the layers of Hunter and Becky's up-and-down friendship, and the latter's gradual rediscovery of her courage.
He'd make things up that didn't happen. Then he'd get angry when questioned, as if remembering was an attack on him. Every time she brought up something he did wrong, suddenly the conversation became about her mental health, her past trauma, her inability to let things go. She started writing everything down because she couldn't trust her own memory anymore. When he found her journal, he said it proved she was paranoid.
My column about gaslighting has drawn some criticism that I want to address. Noam Schimmel argues in his letter that "gaslighting" is a correct term to use when people face "hostile claims that their reported experiences are fabricated, exaggerated or made with malicious intent." But we must always have debates about whether general claims of bigotry are exaggerated or understated, and we shouldn't presume malicious intent from anyone.
"Gaslighting" is a term that comes from the world of fiction. It's a fantasy-first a play in 1938 by British playwright Patrick Hamilton, then two movies in the early 1940s. The Victorian-era plot of Gaslight involves an evil husband trying to steal from his wife (Ingrid Bergman) by driving her crazy-dimming the gas lights and denying that anything is wrong.
"Lied on our first date. It was such a small thing. I had caught him calling me the wrong name... Turns out, he's actually a massive liar, manipulator, and gaslighter."
Not the asshole. Your husband has spent five years deliberately making your life harder in tiny ways and then lying to your face to make you think you are crazy.