‘Drop’ Is a Nonstop Thrill Ride About How Women Fake It to Survive

Violet starts receiving Airdrops that quickly become more ominous and threatening when she and Henry are seated at their table, eventually forcing her to comply with the anonymous Airdropper’s instructions while behaving normally to evade suspicion. As she tries to guess her tormentor, who we know is another patron at the restaurant, she’s forced to walk an unthinkable tightrope and keep her date entertained and unsuspecting as the threats keep pouring in. 

During a Q&A at the Paramount Theater following the film’s premiere, Fahy said she and Landon came to see Violet—or any survivor, really—as precisely the heroine to fight through all the movie’s twists and turns, which seem impossible to navigate from the audience’s perspective. That’s because, on some level, this is the reality for victims in abusive relationships. “Something we talked about was how uniquely suited [Violet] is to be in the situation that she’s in, as someone who has experienced faking it a lot for survival, and we get to see that play out in this film,” Fahy said, referencing Violet’s background as a survivor of domestic abuse. “I loved that she was the hero. I was immediately smitten with her.”

In one particular moment in Drop, just a few beats before a key turning point, the female bartender approaches Violent, concerned for her safety. The bartender says she’s learned to detect signs of women’s discomfort on dates with men, and also when and how to safely intervene. The scene is a bite-size encapsulation of dating, going out, or just existing in public as women in a society where gender-based violence is endemic, casual, and routine. From a young age, women learn to look out for and check in on each other through our own subtle, private languages and codes. We can read when another woman might be faking normalcy because so many of us have been in that exact situation with a man: faking a smile or laugh, concealing our discomfort to avoid potential punishment. 

Drop follows a rising trend of thriller and horror films that play with chilling everyday realities, specifically for marginalized people. There’s Jordan Peele’s Get Out from 2017, an exploration of the creeping violence that Black people encounter in white, liberal spaces, for example, or John Lee’s False Positive from 2021, a horror movie about being pregnant. Drop, meanwhile, centers the distinct fears of women and abuse survivors. The result is terrifying but empowering: To Fahy’s point, Violent endures because she has no shortage of experience in a situation like this.

The film is rife with details that offer astute insight into the experiences of abuse victims and the wide-ranging tactics of abusers. When Violet tries to get help, she’s further threatened. This—isolating the victim, rendering them too afraid to seek support—is among the most lethal tools in an abuser’s toolbox. So, too, are threats to harm the victim’s child, which is the primary leverage that Violet’s tormentor holds over her. I’d also argue Drop can be interpreted as a counter to the age-old, victim-blaming question of “why didn’t she just leave?” It’s simple: Victims are trapped—probably not in an upscale restaurant in downtown Chicago, receiving anonymous messages via AirDrop, but trapped in a complex web of similarly inescapable, layered scenarios, sometimes also involving their children. Drop holds up a mirror to a suffocating reality that’s all too familiar to victims in abusive relationships.

Each sequence of Drop is nearly impossible to predict, but that won’t stop you from trying. It’s quite literally an anxiety attack in the form of a movie. But above all, it’s a singularly satisfying triumph that validates the pain and trauma of survivors, while also celebrating their resourcefulness and resilience.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline takes calls 24/7 at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or 1-800-799-7233 for TTY. If you cannot speak safely, you can log onto thehotline.org or text LOVEIS to 22522.