From the opening scenes, Luca Guadagnino’s ‘After the Hunt’ broadcasts an air of meticulous calculation, as if anxious viewers might miss its profound ‘points.’ We’re repeatedly shown Frederik (Michael Stuhlbarg) subtly placing mysterious brown capsules – not quite medication, more like a botanical aid – on the nightstand of his sleeping wife, Alma (Julia Roberts), before a hushed kiss and a quiet exit. That same nightstand consistently features Thomas Mann’s weighty 1901 novel, ‘Buddenbrooks,’ a visual cue seemingly laden with significance.
The camera fixates on hands, particularly Alma’s and her brilliant doctoral student, Maggie (Ayo Edebiri), both sporting short, black-painted nails. Every detail feels amplified, hinting at a deeper meaning.
The film is littered with overt references: nods to Woody Allen, a soundtrack punctuated by ticking clocks, and Alma’s consistent attire of white with a contrasting black blazer. Even Nora Garrett’s character names feel deliberate, with Frederik and Alma evoking Ingmar Bergman, and Alma’s close colleague, Hank Gibson (Andrew Garfield) – a name echoing Henrik Ibsen – adding another layer of literary allusion.
As Hank and Alma, both assistant philosophy professors, fiercely pursue tenure, the narrative becomes a barrage of philosophical references. Foucault’s panopticon, Adorno’s ‘Minima Moralia,’ and Freud’s misogyny are all invoked, alongside an unfortunate, crude joke about ‘little Hegel.’ Maggie’s dissertation explores ‘the resurgence of virtue ethics,’ a concept Hank believes she’s plagiarizing from Giorgio Agamben’s ‘Homo Sacer’ — though the connection remains bafflingly unexplored. Our main characters, including psychotherapist Kim (Chloë Sevigny), are introduced debating ‘collective morality’ and the ‘teleological pursuit’ of tenure over wine in a book-filled living room.
Yet, this deluge of signals, symbols, and hints clangs together in utter incoherence. ‘After the Hunt’ strands its audience in a vast ocean of disconnected concepts, leaving us to grasp at vague gestures towards ‘academia,’ ‘bourgeois morality,’ and ‘ethics,’ without ever grounding them in a meaningful framework or demonstrating any genuine understanding of their implications.
Perhaps this very incoherence is intentional; if ‘After the Hunt’ has a thesis, it might be the hollowness of identity politics detached from lived experience, or as Hank puts it, ‘this shallow cultural moment.’ The film paints a picture of elite academic philosophy that feels profoundly abstracted and devoid of life. At an introductory party, a student blithely suggests Alma will secure tenure over Hank because the ‘common enemy’ has been identified as ‘the straight, white, cis male.’ The film seems to embrace this cynical premise without reservation.
The plot thickens when Hank escorts Maggie home, only for Maggie to accuse him of sexual assault the following day. Hank vehemently denies the claim, asserting it’s retaliation for his accusations of plagiarism against her.
Alma finds herself trapped in a volatile dilemma, compounded by Maggie’s identity as a Black, gay woman whose influential parents are major school donors. Hank, on the other hand, frames the conflict as a class struggle: a self-made academic now threatened by a privileged, plagiarizing student. The film then throws the gauntlet, asking: which factors—race, class, gender, sexuality—will dictate the outcome? Whom will Alma support, and how will her own past influence her decision?
This narrative is packaged in the familiar trappings of a campus drama, albeit with modern updates seen in shows like “The Chair” and “Dear White People,” and films such as “Master” and “Sorry, Baby.” These stories often indulge in a fantasy of academia: ivy-covered walls, palpable power dynamics, and the ruthless pursuit of success—be it a degree, a grade, or the elusive prize of tenure.
Alma and Frederik, it appears, have played the academic game to perfection. Their sprawling, elegantly furnished apartment is precisely what one imagines Yale professors inhabit – yes, the film makes sure to declare its setting with an opening ‘it happened at Yale.’ Both Alma and Hank enjoy student popularity and a mutual attraction. Frederik, a psychotherapist, plays the devoted spouse, cooking elaborate meals and maintaining their home, yet he possesses a keen understanding of everyone’s motivations, aware that Maggie and Hank’s adoration for Alma is precisely why she maintains such close proximity to them.
Frederik’s acute perception starkly contrasts with the film’s own baffling lack of awareness. Academics watching this movie might be driven to seek solace in the nearest dive bar, pondering how an assistant professor at Yale and a psychotherapist could possibly afford that apartment, or why a prestigious institution like Yale seems to operate without a Title IX office.
Even if we accept the film’s assertion that Alma is a brilliant and adored professor (despite scant evidence), how did she secure such a coveted position after years away from her field? Moreover, why did she step away, and is this a question the audience is meant to consider? A former academic might also question why a philosophy doctoral student, advanced to dissertation stage, possesses only rudimentary German. Suffice it to say, if you find yourself bewildered, you are not alone.
This all culminates in a profoundly disappointing experience, especially given the formidable talent involved in ‘After the Hunt.’ Guadagnino’s filmography is marked by its prolificacy and divisiveness, yet usually remains compelling; I often admire his work even when it doesn’t entirely resonate. Here, Roberts delivers a captivating performance as a beautiful, enigmatic woman whose increasing unpleasantness paradoxically makes her more compelling – a facade of perfection slowly fracturing. It’s a portrayal of depth I eagerly anticipate seeing more of, perfectly complemented by Andrew Garfield’s masterful depiction of a professor acutely aware of his standing among both students and colleagues.
This compounds the frustration, though the film’s tagline, ‘not everything is supposed to make you comfortable,’ might suggest the joke is on critics like me. ‘After the Hunt’ appears desperate to be perceived as a daring commentary on ‘cancel culture’ and the ‘feminist generation gap.’ However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a superior, earlier draft of the screenplay was diluted by the clumsy addition of overtly political themes, tacked on to boost its ‘relevance.’
Beneath its flawed surface, a genuinely intriguing core exists. Among the five central characters, three are academic philosophers and two are psychotherapists. While the philosophers, all ethicists, find their abstract pursuits yielding no real-world impact, it is the psychotherapists — those who help others articulate their life stories professionally — who emerge as the true moral compasses.
This distinction lends clarity to an otherwise chaotic classroom scene. Alma’s frustration erupts during a seminar, yet a student’s reference to Hannah Arendt’s ‘Between Past and Future’ — specifically, Ulysses understanding himself only through narrated reflection – hints at a deeper, more profound narrative.
I believe this to be the film’s true underlying theme. Guadagnino frequently employs direct, unflinching close-ups as characters meet each other’s gazes. Alma’s most significant chance for self-realization arises when Frederik truly ‘sees’ her, offering a moment of genuine recognition.
However, she recoils. Alma is unable to confront reality, and by its conclusion, ‘After the Hunt’ appears equally hesitant. It’s baffling, as the film hovers on the precipice of profound insight, only to retreat. Perhaps some truths are simply too uncomfortable to fully embrace.
Film Details:
After the Hunt
Rated R for extensive bad behavior, strong language, excessive substance abuse, and explicit depiction and discussion of sexual assault. Running time: 2 hours 19 minutes. Now showing in theaters.