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No Forgiveness, Just Forgetting: The Feminist Core of Blink Twice

Blink Twice

Directed by Zöe Kravitz

Starring Naomi Ackie, Channing Tatum, and Alia Shawkat

Since the beginning of time, power dynamics between genders have shaped society. While much discourse has taken place over the years, it remains evident that women are still fighting for equality and equity, all while navigating a male-dominated world that often subjects them to worry and stress over how they are treated.

While one could argue that Blink Twice shares similarities with other films tackling these issues, Zöe Kravitz still manages to craft a film that, at times, meticulously utilizes its timeline, symbolism, dialogue, and setting to tell a compelling story about manipulation, oppression, trauma, isolation, and power dynamics—all through a feminist lens.

Best friends Frida (Naomi Ackie) and Jess (Alia Shawkat) are living the typical cocktail waitress life when their world is turned upside down by an encounter with tech billionaire Slater King (Channing Tatum), who has recently gone viral for a public apology regarding some questionable behavior.

Following their meeting, Slater invites Frida and Jess to his newly acquired private island—a retreat he mentioned in his apology video as a place to relax and isolate from society. Frida, seemingly charmed by Slater’s charisma, accepts the invitation, setting the stage for what initially appears to be a dreamlike escape.

Upon arrival, guests are required to surrender their phones to fully immerse themselves in the island’s luxury. Slater’s inner circle includes a DJ, a cook, a photographer, and a young recent graduate. Among the other invitees are a reality star, an app developer, and a lawyer—each of them women. The group is primed for what promises to be an extravagant getaway.

What Kravitz presents is a deceptively fun, almost lighthearted experience through Frida’s eyes—until Jess’s growing unease plants a seed of doubt, leading Frida to question the true nature of their surroundings.

From there, the film evolves into a story of solidarity and survival. The women, initially reveling in their supposed freedom and indulgence, soon realize they are trapped in a carefully constructed illusion. The bond between them becomes their greatest weapon against an oppressive environment where they are meant to feel empowered, yet are ultimately being controlled.

As Frida pieces together the unsettling truth—especially after Jess’s disappearance—the one person who steps up to help her isn’t her closest ally, but rather the woman she had been at odds with, particularly over Slater’s attention. This dynamic further reinforces the film’s central theme: women must stand together rather than be divided by the very forces that seek to manipulate them. Each female character is depicted as strong-willed and independent in her own right, but as the film progresses, we see how these qualities are systematically stripped away by the men around them, rendering them vulnerable.

Once the facade crumbles, nothing stands in the way of this powerful female ensemble as they fight for their escape—back to a world that may still impose boundaries and glass ceilings, but one where they now have each other, and a renewed sense of resilience.

“You did nothing. You did nothing for yourself. You did nothing for them. And, in my opinion, there’s a real special place in Hell reserved for people that just choose to do nothing. Why do you think you chose to do nothing?”

– Slater King

In the end, Blink Twice is a chilling exploration of how men manipulate and control women, not just through force, but through psychological tactics—most notably the concept of “forgetting” rather than forgiving. As Slater King himself chillingly states, “There is no forgiveness. There’s just… forgetting.” Kravitz delivers a visually stunning film with dedicated performances and ever-relevant subject matter.

One of the film’s most striking commentaries comes in the form of the young man on the island—an outsider to Slater’s inner circle who is visibly uncomfortable with the events unfolding around him. In many ways, he is just as manipulated and controlled as the women, yet he ultimately remains complicit by choosing inaction. Here, Kravitz not only examines feminist struggles but also highlights the cyclical nature of male behavior—showing how the next generation of men is shaped by those who came before them.