Based on the most-read piece of fiction ever published in The New Yorker, Cat Person is the latest movie to examine the perils of modern dating.  But unlike its forebears, Susanna Fogel’s film has an astute take on what romance is really like. The dangers are very real, which is a truth often ignored on screen, recent entries like Fresh notwithstanding. Most romantic comedies ignore the true dangers, or even perpetuate harmful myths, ala When Harry Met Sally. Instead, Fogel here has crafted a hilariously uncomfortable, endlessly relatable look at the obstacles that women must navigate to seek human connection.  The fact that the movie is also wickedly entertaining from start to finish is just the icing on the cake.

Margot (Emilia Jones, having an excellent run following Coda) is a bored, wisecracking college sophomore who works in a movie theater that features classic films.  Here she meets Robert (Nicholas Braun), a 33 year-old man who comes to the theater to see American Graffiti. At first he comes off as awkward but harmless enough. After an amusing meet-cute in which she playfully insults his taste in Red Vines, they exchange phone numbers and set in motion a wild series of events that has significant ramifications for both of them.

If this sounds intentionally vague, it’s because much of the pleasure derives from not knowing what’s going to happen next (speaking as someone who had not read the short story on which this is based). From Margot’s point of view, we watch as the two awkwardly get to know each other.  In an amusing—and efficient—visual, their text messages are displayed onscreen, all their flirtations, their misread signals, their pop-culture banter writ large for the audience.  As their relationship progresses, Margot’s doubts begin to grow.  Robert often seems to be thinking only of himself—in an amusing recurring bit, he’s obsessed with Harrison Ford, and even cajoles her into seeing The Empire Strikes Back, at her own workplace, no less!

Yet rather than be honest with him, she holds her tongue, not wanting to hurt his feelings.  Instead she retreats into amusing fantasies, daydreaming that he’s opening up to his therapist while wearing a white cable-knit sweater, ala Chris Evans in Knives Out, lamenting his inability to communicate his feelings to Margot.  This is part of what makes the film so endlessly relatable, even as their relationship descends hilariously into chaos. The power dynamics are constantly shifting between the two, making each other uncomfortable and exposing the complicated gender politics that people must navigate in modern dating.  Margot is younger, smaller, and as the woman, she initially perceives herself as inferior to Robert, who is older and purportedly wiser—at one point, he surprises her with his knowledge of myrmecology (the study of ants). At the same time, he soon reveals himself to be hilariously inexperienced in certain aspects of dating. Put another way, their first kiss might be the most awkward, horrible kiss I’ve ever seen on film, something akin to a face-hugger from Alien attacking one of Ripley’s crewmates.

The movie is shot with a constant, simmering sense of dread, with scenes frequently underlit and full of shadows, accentuating the eerie images. A full moon illuminates the campus grounds. A rottweiler stands watchfully in the rain.  At any point, you expect violence to break out, for the film to tilt into outright horror. Part of the fun is waiting to see just how far off the rails the two characters’ relationship goes, and you’ll likely be surprised and horrified by where they end up. Yet the story continues to remain exceedingly relatable, as the characters’ decisions and motivations are entirely understandable (for the most part).  Margot is seeking human connection, but as a woman, there are certain realities she has to take into account. A woman going on dates with a strange man she just met is profoundly vulnerable. Similarly, even though Robert is arguably the villain of the story, his decisions are also understandable (again, for the most part).  Though we don’t see his internal monologue, he behaves as if he’s the hero of his own story, doing the right thing and treating Margot the way she should be treated.  It would never occur to him that he’s an insensitive, bumbling idiot.  What woman wouldn’t want to sit around and discuss Indiana Jones movies ad nauseam?

The film is bolstered by strong performances throughout, particularly by the two leads. Braun uses his towering frame to great effect, shifting gears easily from harmless dolt to something arguably more sinister. Jones’ role is more reactive, more internal, which is partly due to her character. Part of the film’s commentary on gender roles is that her character spends much of the film’s runtime simply reacting to, and dealing with the consequences of, Robert’s bumbling choices. Her friend Taylor (Geraldine Viswanathan, stealing scenes) is the rare three-dimensional rom-com best friend, urging Margot to break off the relationship but also blinded by her own biases. And bonus points for Isabella Rossellini’s casting as Margot’s professor, an actress who immediately evokes Blue Velvet, the granddaddy of psychologically disturbing romances.

Much like the short story, Cat Person is designed to spark intense conversations. Its gleefully entertaining veneer, from its wicked sense of humor to its horror-tinged atmosphere, masks a razor-sharp satire, highlighting the gender disparities that are part and parcel of modern dating.  It gets taken for granted just how dangerous it can be for women, who must consider their own safety in a way that men don’t. As Fogel’s film points out, not only is the woman more physically vulnerable, but she must also contend with the fragile, volatile emotional minefield that constitutes the modern man.