‘After the Hunt’ Review: Academia Becomes a Battlefield Where Ethics, Fear and Reputation Collide

‘After the Hunt’ Review: Academia Becomes a Battlefield Where Ethics, Fear and Reputation Collide

At Yale, a philosophy professor is caught in the middle when a promising student accuses a fellow professor of sexual misconduct, triggering institutional reactions that move faster than the truth can settle.

During much of the #MeToo era, the fourth feminist wave, and the wider social and cultural impact of movements defending minorities, human rights, and other causes that critics (sometimes mockingly) lump under the label “woke,” there were always different approaches—both theoretical and political—regarding how to engage with those issues. In broad strokes (and simplifying due to space), one could say that the United States and Europe have often responded to these debates differently: one in a more direct, uncompromising, sometimes blunt fashion, and the other more indirect, subtle, even tangled. After the Hunt is what happens when a European director—Italian, to be precise—who prefers looking at things in shades of gray tackles a script, a story and a cast of characters rooted firmly in American soil. And the friction between those worlds is what turns Luca Guadagnino’s film into something strange, unique, flawed, and fascinating all at once.

The story takes place mostly in 2019, at the height of the so-called “cancel culture,” a disputed term used to describe accusations that could allegedly end a person’s career without much evidence. Most often these accusations were of a sexual nature—though not always; there were also cases involving racism, transphobia, politically incorrect comments, and many other issues—and they frequently (though not exclusively) targeted white cisgender men. And the epicenter of this movement was the American university campus, the same environment that today—following a political reversal in Washington—sees these inclusivity programs being dismantled and many of the advances from that period rolled back.

Alma Imhoff (Julia Roberts), a philosophy professor at Yale, navigates this mined terrain. Alongside her colleague Hank Gibson (Andrew Garfield, in a role markedly different from his usual persona), she belongs to the group who believe things may have gone too far—that students have become hypersensitive, unable to move through the shifting sands of adulthood and its many gray areas. Alma’s brightest student is Maggie Resnick (Ayo Edebiri, from The Bear), but she represents the other side of the debate—deeply embedded in the world of campus activism and protest. Soon enough, other differences between them emerge, darker and more corrosive.

Shortly after a gathering at the home of Alma and her husband Frederick (Michael Stuhlbarg), Maggie approaches her mentor to say that Hank attempted to assault her that night and that she intends to report him to the university. Alma is cautious: she supports Maggie, but not in a way that satisfies her, straining their relationship. Maggie goes ahead with the report, triggering a chain of events referenced in the title, which concerns what happens “after” the so-called hunt. Hank defends himself, presenting his version of events and what he sees as Maggie’s motives. Maggie remains firm, bolstered by her peers and feared more than anything by the administration. And Alma is trapped in the middle—with her own secrets and interests weighing heavily on every decision.

Alma’s philosophy lectures serve as a framing device, allowing Guadagnino to weave in concepts that echo the story—how philosophers and writers have explored ethics, morality, and gray zones throughout history. But at its core, After the Hunt unfolds as a twisting melodrama with suspense elements. At first, it seems to hinge on discovering whether Maggie is lying or telling the truth. But gradually, the film widens its focus, suggesting that everyone has something to hide and that nothing is ever as black-and-white as it seems.

Guadagnino knows he’s treading on fragile ground and leans into it with gusto. This is visible from the opening titles, which borrow the typography, layout, and even musical cues of Woody Allen films—one of the most famous and heavily discussed cases of the “cancel culture” debate. By signaling Allen as a tonal reference while placing a young Black and gay woman at the center of an accusation that may not be entirely pure in its motivations, Guadagnino risks being attacked from the left. But that’s not all. Certain story developments expose him to criticism from the conservative side as well—the faction that believes feminism “has gone too far” and that things should return to how they used to be.

My impression is that Guadagnino isn’t interested in siding with either camp. Formally—from the intrusive music and unusual camera pans to the loud ticking clock on the soundtrack and the jarringly abrupt edits—what he wants is to spark debate, to challenge viewers, to explore both the excesses of political correctness and the uncomfortable truth that people routinely act according to impulses that have little to do with logic and often exist in morally gray spaces. In one tense moment, lacking access to her medication, Alma—who suffers from debilitating physical pain that has already forced sabbaticals in the past—steals, forges, and submits a prescription. It may save her from hospitalization or worse, yet it is also a crime. What is ethical in such a moment?

The friction also emerges in the screenplay. Nora Garrett’s script appears, at times, structured for a more traditional thriller—one built around the central question “Is she lying or telling the truth?”—complete with stolen documents, plagiarism accusations, career competition, and plot turns that feel conventional or overly convenient. Guadagnino navigates and entangles himself with these mechanisms, creating a film that is at once a familiar, mechanical piece of drama and a more disquieting work reminiscent of last year’s Tár, that provocative and more rigorously daring film starring Cate Blanchett.

After the Hunt never goes quite as far, and the final result lands in a tonal gray zone—reflecting the ambivalence of its characters, yes, but dramatically it can feel unsatisfying, confusing, even as tangled as the motives of its own protagonists. What is undeniable, though, is its ability to unsettle. If that is not a barrier for the viewer, they will enjoy trying to unpack this provocation from the Italian director.