Flasz On Film

Synopsis: A Yale philosophy professor finds her carefully ordered life unraveling when a star PhD student accuses a close colleague of sexual assault, forcing her into an impossible position between loyalty, belief, and self-preservation. As the allegation becomes public, buried truths from the professor’s own past resurface, exposing how power, ambition, and narrative control shape who is believed and who survives professionally.

In 2025 Luca Guadagnino has extended his rather strong and illustrious filmography with After the Hunt. Starring Julia Roberts, Andrew Garfield, Ayo Edebiri and Michael Stuhlbarg, this film—recently released on Amazon Prime—further cements Guadagnino’s standing as one of the most prominent filmmakers working at the intersection of poignant social commentary, artistic elevation and slick, accessible storytelling made specifically with mature audiences in mind. In other words, he has successfully found himself in a niche that attracts both arthouse-trained audiences and general viewers seeking counter-programming options to escapist blockbuster fare flooding cinemas.

Thus, much like Challengers, Call Me by Your Name and Bones and All, Guadagnino’s latest finds the perfect balance between exploring alluring themes, touching on culturally-relevant subjects and allowing more astute viewers the opportunity to wrestle with the filmmaker’s stylistic choices as well. It is, for all intents and purposes, a veritable feast for cinephiles who may have to stagger their own internal thought processes after the movie comes to a close or pick between a whole bunch of dinner conversations they would like to start based on the multitude of ways in which After the Hunt has stirred them internally.

On one hand—and this is likely the most sprawling and incendiary angle to this film—it harbors a potent conversation that reflects on some of the aspects of what we came to call “culture wars” over the course of the last decade. The core story regards a professor (Garfield) is accused by a student (Edebiri) of sexual assault and where another professor (Roberts) finds herself at an impasse because—much like the viewer—she needs to pick sides in a battle where solid evidence is missing and instead a game of complex power dynamics is about to be waged. But upon a closer inspection, and as the narrative slowly unravels, it becomes clearer that the central theme underpinning the film is not necessarily misconduct and abuse of power, but rather privilege in all forms.

With incredibly measured panache, Guadagnino guides the viewer towards understanding that the intention is not to pick sides but to understand the precariousness of the predicament the characters are in. Though, it is not quite like Thomas Vinterberg’s The Hunt where we did know what the protagonist did or didn’t do and we were asked to impotently observe as the world turned against him. Through subtle direction of his principals, occasional departures into hyper-realism and clever use of perspective that saw actors speak directly into the lens as though they performed in a movie by Yasujiro Ozu, After the Hunt assumes the guise of a near-perfect experiment in misdirection and visual manipulation. Guadagnino seems to want us to yell “J’accuse!” on a number of occasions only to want us to retract our thinking almost immediately when we understand the matters may be more complex.

What he does seemingly want us to take home is the idea that privilege is a shape-shifting entity capable of assuming many forms and poisoning our thinking in many ways. Having observed these characters for long enough we might choose to move beyond seeing this film as an intricate companion piece to Todd Field’s Tar (which deals with similar subject matter in a more straightforward fashion) and understand the multidimensionality engineered herein. As we wonder who did what in this game of he-said-she-said, we may uncover that the point of the story is to conceptualize these different strata of privilege and entitlement that weigh in on asymmetry of power between the main characters. One is cushioned by wealth and hidden behind cultural identitarianism. Another exploits patriarchal dominance afforded by ossified traditions. Yet another has understood power imbalances already and used them to her advantage.

And at the same time, the filmmaker still reminds us that this utterly and totally compelling showdown of wills between intellectuals wielding weapons of cultural annihilation afforded to them either by their institutions or social momentum and group identity takes place in a bubble, not in the real world. In fact, it takes place in a movie. After all, we hear Guadagnino yell “cut!” right before the movie cuts to black before the end credits. It is as though he wanted us to remember that while this high drama of power, misconduct and privilege was unfolding, real life was happening outside. The kind of life these people who keep spare apartments to work at and who listen to classical music while cooking just aren’t aware of.

This multi-layered, complex web of themes encased in a fundamentally intriguing narrative driven by a handful of great performers is therefore one of the most titillating films to have come out this year. After the Hunt cuts right through tribal battle lines and strikes at the core of social divisions by suggesting, in no uncertain terms, that the real cultural conversation to be had is about privilege that afflicts nearly everyone lucky enough to study or work at classy institutions. It is a truly wonderful piece of filmmaking of the kind that finds enough room to host serious conversations together with artistic elevation. Without venturing into the realm of visual provocation Guadagnino has indulged in the past in Bones and All, Suspiria or Call Me by Your Name, this particular movie is capable of moving general audiences and enticing them to think and talk about the fabric of our culture. In many ways, After the Hunt manages to hybridize the visual accessibility and flair of a David Fincher movie with the depth of a film directed by Ingmar Bergman or Bernardo Bertolucci. Which is a rare feat indeed.