SHARP OBJECTS “Cherry” (S1E6): Like The Fruit, A Juicy But Messier Experience

Sharp Objects would have been more accurately titled Blunt Force Trauma. Rather than a sudden, shooting sensation, the HBO miniseries continues to play out in a more throbbing and lingering fashion, with the persisting mystery and brittle intensity prolonged further into the sixth episode, Cherry. Packed with metaphors and more impressive detail, the latest episode may be a touch messier in collecting the pieces of the puzzle together – but at least there are signs of narrative development heading into the final stretch.

Following the fallout from Calhoun Day, Wind Gap is still stirring conspiracies and rumours, with fresh evidence provided by Adora pointing the finger of suspicion towards an already prime suspect. Meanwhile, Camille and Amma begin to bond over their shared experiences growing up in a narrow-minded town, and Richard digs into Camille’s sinister past.

On the surface, the more emphasised element of Sharp Objects’ story has seemed to be the Preaker-Crellin women’s (dead and alive) shared trauma and heartache – but womanhood in a more generalised, scorching sense is scrutinised in this hour, more so than ever. From a Beaches movie-night-cum-pity-party with the ex-cheerleaders assembled alongside cheap wine and eyebrow raising musings on feminism, to pool-side discussion of implied initiations, the women of Wind Gap are shown as products of a dangerous community that has formed a seething, inescapable mob mentality.

Women as a product of dangerous communities

All unhappy with their lives, dulling their routine with directed bitchiness towards those they view as beneath, the outsiders – Camille, Becca, a black cheerleader and one of the few to recognise Camille’s hurt that she too has experienced –  threaten to break their clique and tear their safety net. It’s enthralling to watch as the various dynamics unfold, and while the dialogue during these interactions are weak by Sharp Objects‘ high standard – often lacking the tact and nuance of stronger moments – it’s no less thrilling to see the semblance between the ‘us’ and ‘them’, an occurring theme that has often stranded our protagonist on her own team.

At least she has a friend now, of sorts, amongst the continuous family backstabbing and snide remarks. Elsewhere, Jackie is back on fine form and her clear disdain for Adora is palpable in her discussion with Richard regarding the family’s past; out of these two ladies, I do not know who I would be more fearful crossing.

Patricia Clarkson’s domineering performance as Adora continues to tower, blistering in its intensity. Even with the briefest indication of a truce with Camille, Adora’s acidity spits just a little too venomously for it to last for very long, pitch-perfectly managed by Clarkson. Amy Adams and Eliza Scanlen play it fantastically well opposite one another, exploring the sister’s dynamic in a truly intoxicating way; it’s a layered, compulsive relationship and the pair play it like a constant tug of war, with the younger sibling often holding the upper hand. Adams, we already know, is truly one of the finest actresses in her field, and that Scanlen can so remarkably hold her own against her is the greatest testament to her one can give.

Genuinely clue or suspected red herring?

Dawn Kamoche & Ariella Blejer’s screenplay has discovered an impressive way of weaving secrets more richly into the narrative. While it is still holding a few too many of its cards close to its chest for my liking, Cherry did drop a major piece of evidence – one I suspect to be a red herring of sorts – and a few passing comments that have made the mind tick over.

We gain insight into Marian’s sickliness that raises questions over her nursing and Adora’s endless steering of not only her family but the town’s residents towards her. Always the first to offer a shoulder to anyone grieving other than her own daughter, it’s another fine hour that retains the character-driven approach so (brilliantly) exhaustingly and meticulously. It’s got to the point now where the viewers may understand Camille more so than her family, given their consistent ignorance of her mental state. Despite her flaws and perceived coldness, I, for one, have come to really like Camille. I just want her to be happy, although I’m not sure happiness has a place in Wind Gap.

More memories come flooding back to her in Cherry and the editors earn their pay with a carefully crafted hour that seeks to remind Camille of the dead girls haunting her. In the episode’s closing moment, a stark warning comes – “it’s not safe here for you” – in a chilling conclusion that sets up the final hours as the darkest, most sinister yet.

Matched with some reliably terrific cinematography from Ronald Plante – who makes the most of a thematically and literally dark episode – and unceasingly stellar direction from Jean-Marc Vallée, who enhances a handful of the metaphors and details stunningly despite a more muted colour palette (particularly compared to last week’s episode), Cherry is an episode packed with juicy ingredients working in a decidedly bitter unison.

In Conclusion: Sharp Objects’ Cherry

While there remain more noticeable cracks in the latest two Sharp Objects episodes than the earlier days of the miniseries, it endures well into the sixth hour as an unparalleled and enthralling television experience. Cherry’s consideration of womanhood, rage and trauma carry a timely meaning in the shadows of the #MeToo and Time’s Up campaigns.

“We were so shiny, luscious on the outside – but on the inside there’s that dark, hard pit” evaluates one character in the middle of this episode, a notion which sums up the overall series rather astutely: for all the gorgeous camerawork and visuals on display in Sharp Objects, there’s a wickedness at the centre – one bound to be exposed in the final two hours.

What are your thoughts on the latest episode of Sharp Objects?