Is God Is (2026) and Female Rage

There’s been a lot of books and movies marketed around ‘female rage’ lately, but those texts struggle to depict women’s frustration as anything other than aestheticized catharsis, an easily consumable revenge. The character can be angry, but only in ways that are morally containable. Aleshea Harris’ directorial debut is nothing like that. It follows twin sisters sent by their mother to track down and kill the abusive father who left all three women permanently scarred after setting them on fire years ago. This movie couldn’t care less about making you feel comfortable with the actions of its protagonists. Still, it’s hardly a straightforward revenge thriller either. Throughout the film, the potential consequences of their rage loom like an omnipresent specter, leaving viewers to wonder not only whether they’ll go through with it, but also whether it will ultimately be worth it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgtdkuNFoKk

              When I initially heard Harris say she chose to adapt her own stage play into a film, and then make her directorial debut, I was nervous the playwright was being too protective of her work. It’s notoriously hard to adapt plays into films since plays are, by the very nature of the stage, constrained in terms of time and place. That said, I am happy to report that was an unfair assumption. This is a deeply cinematic film, but it also contains the greatness of the play’s script, including how the characters are written. Unlike many films, rage becomes the governing logic in this story. Not only is Racine and Anaia’s anger understandable, but Harris allows that fury to take on ecstatic, ugly, funny, self-destructive proportions that make it a central theme—and it’s not static, either. Racine revels in the idea of revenge while Anaia is much more concerned about the what will happen after their mission is over. On one hand, not letting this go can land them in prison or worse, affecting the entire trajectory of their lives. On the other, some things simply cannot be forgiven. It’s a very thoughtful meditation on letting go and what it means to live with trauma. Here, the revenge movie promise that violence will cleanse trauma is complicated by us seeing their frustration outlive its usefulness, infecting their personalities and relationships.

There’s also a deeply earnest attempt to locate this anger in a philosophical worldview, a depth normally only afforded to male characters like Travis Bickle or Michael Corleone. We’re constantly told this mission was given to them by God (their mother), and that to forego it would be sacrilegious. There’s a cosmic sense of duty that’s driving them. This allows their anger to be explored instead of explained, leading to a tone that shifts between comedy, horror, and family drama, sometimes within a single scene. Pulling from disparate genres like Blaxploitation cinema, spaghetti westerns, surrealism and Greek tragedy allows the characters to feel larger than life while still keeping us grounded in the intimacy of their rich interiority; and the actors play no small part in this harmony.

It’s funny that, in a cast this stacked, the two leads would still be able to hold their own against veteran actors like Vivica A. Fox and Janelle Monáe. All the star power creates very memorable performances—especially Sterling K. Brown, who gives an absolutely bone-chilling performance as the twins’ abusive father. He delivers lines with a coldness that makes it clear there’s a shocking violence just beneath the placid surface. That said, Kara Young and Mallori Johnson absolutely knock it out of the park here. Young in particular does an amazing job as Racine, grounding her character’s fiery personality in a sense of duty to her disfigured sister. It’s a gritty, visceral performance that I hope will get a lot of love once award season is here. When placed beside one another, I think a lot of people might make the mistake of overlooking the tender introspection Johnson approaches her role with, and that’s a shame. Quiet, shy characters like Anaia require a very rich and lived-in sense of interiority that I think she nailed to a T, and that can sometimes be harder to nail than the more ostentatious performances. All the actors show a great amount of commitment, and thankfully these great performances are also photographed magnificently.

This film is much bolder visually than I expected. It’s impressive that, as a playwright, Harris is able to build such a consistent and effective visual language. To clue viewers into the private language developed between twins, we are given subtitles to let us know the exact meaning of a look. It’s a fun way of inserting not just humor, but a lived-in feel to Anaia and Racine’s relationship. There’s also a unique use of polyvocal narration that builds a sense of interiority for characters that would otherwise remain too fringe for us to connect with, increasing the emotional stakes of each scene. Along with Jay Rabinowitz’s editing creating a fast pace with his quick cuts, he also builds a sense of closeness by allowing us to hang in certain moments of silence. In several ways, this is a gutsy piece of filmmaking. The violence feels visceral and ugly; it carries an urgency that helps us understand the characters’ emotions and thoughts. This isn’t a movie concerned with how good it feels to get even. Instead, it displays how rage is capable of reshaping identity, intimacy, and morality itself. Is God Is is now in theaters, and you should absolutely watch it.