The key thesis of Woman of the Hour, Anna Kendrick’s feature directorial debut, is that weary, nervous accommodation is the default state for women in our tainted culture. The film is a period piece, set in the late nineteen-seventies, but there’s little doubt that its arguments remain foully pertinent. Although several female characters in the film face a level of personal danger that’s incredibly pronounced, it’s made abundantly clear that there are a multitude of smaller infractions against their basic well-being that occur in the most benign progressions of the day, all of it eroding the soul bit by bit.

In addition to directing, Kendrick takes the lead role of Cheryl Bradshaw, an aspiring actress in Los Angeles who can’t make headway in showbiz in part because of her reluctance to strip for the camera. In an effort to get her any sort of exposure, Cheryl’s agent books her as a contestant on The Dating Game, where she’ll be the bachelorette quizzing a trio of unseen potential beaus. It turns out that one of the trio on the other side of the studio stage partition from her is a serial killer (Daniel Zovatto) who preys on women. If that seems implausible, prompting questions about why someone who’s committed multiple unsolved murders would agree to make an appearance on national television, it’s worth noting that the film is based on a true story. Like all fictionalizations, Woman of the Hour takes some liberties, but there really was a Cheryl Bradshaw who unwittingly peppered a murderer with cutesy, salacious queries for the chance to win a pricey date.

The Dating Game episode (in both senses of that term) forms the spine of the film. Around it, Kendrick moves the narrative back and forth in time to show the horrendous crimes the serial killer committed. Despite the real risk of such depictions becoming exploitative, Kendrick is steady and serious in showing the brutality of the incidents without going tawdry or invasive. These scenes fortify the film’s overall theme of the dehumanizing indignities that women routinely endure, whether the officious neighbor (Pete Holmes) who uses his petulant sorrow to coerce Cheryl into one more drink at the bar or the array of authority figures who respond with irritated inaction to the insistent alarms of an audience member (Nicolette Robinson) who recognizes Bachelor #3 as the man who assaulted her friend years earlier.

Kendrick proves herself an assured director with Woman of the Hour. She has a strong visual sense and moves back and forth among her timelines well enough. Most impressively, she shows a command of tone. Even as the film is infused with dread, there’s a bright, comic element to the scenes at The Dating Game, especially when Cheryl goes off script to slyly assert her own views that are in opposition to the retrograde sexism built into the television program. The film’s energy does sag a bit when Kendrick slow plays the second act; outcomes come to feel inevitable before the plot has caught up. The overall sense, though, is that Kendrick is a promising filmmaker. Woman of the Hour is a fine opening statement to a directorial career.