With a title like “women who talk”, audacious actor turned director Sarah PollyThe fourth feature film clearly shows that it will be one of those rare films capable of passing the Bechdel test. This barometer, for those who may not know, lays down three seemingly easy criteria to meet: (1) The film must include at least two women, (2) who talk to each other, (3) something other than a man. It’s amazing the number of films that fail.

Even Polley’s film, which consists of women speaking for most of its 97 minutes, is a complicated exception, since most of the conversation – an urgent reunion between the wives, mothers and daughters of a colony ultraconservative nun – concerns men. But even then, there’s no denying that “Women Talking” is unlike any movie you’ve seen before, which is exactly what you’d expect from the director of the startlingly personal and heartbreaking 2012 meta-documentary “Stories We Tell.” . A decade later, Polley is back with another audacious thought experiment, this one inspired by a horrific sex abuse plot uncovered within a Mennonite community about a decade ago.

In this gruesome crime, seven men were revealed to have drugged their neighbors with an animal tranquilizer and raped them in their sleep, attributing the violations, which numbered more than 100, to supernatural forces. A few years ago, Canadian writer Miriam Toews – who had grown up in a Mennonite community – took that premise and turned it into a novel, focusing not on crimes but on consequences. Her book reads almost like science fiction (Margaret Atwood was a fan, quoted on its cover), but finds its foundation in human nature.

“Women Talking” is now a major film, as the Hollywood hype says, although in this case the word “major” most certainly applies: the mere existence of a film like this is a big deal. , as is the fact that so many of its creators are women, from producers Frances McDormand and Bebe Gardner to writer-director Polley to the ensemble, incredible talents all acting together for the first time. Most of the film takes place in a hayloft, where eight women have come together, a makeshift council to decide how to deal with the situation. They have three choices: (1) Do nothing, (2) stay and fight, (3) leave.

That’s more options than the city’s elders gave them. When news of the rapes broke, young mother Mariche (Jessie Buckley) grabbed a scythe and attacked the culprits. It was only then that the police were called – not out of concern for the women, as one might expect, but to protect the men. Here, as in so many communities throughout time, men make the rules, relying on religion as a means of social control. Why aren’t the husbands and fathers of the victims outraged by what happened? It’s not addressed. Instead, they gave their wives and daughters an ultimatum: the women have two days to forgive their attackers, or else leave the colony and, in doing so, give up their chance to enter the kingdom of heaven. . What would you do?

These women begin by voting, introducing democracy to a system where, as a future mother Ona (Rooney Mara) says so, “all your life, no matter what you thought.” Ona is single, pregnant with one of those rapes — dehumanizing assaults that Polley has the good sense not to show, though the bruised and bloody aftermath is no less disturbing. Now that the truth is out, Ona refuses to keep her thoughts to herself. The same goes for all the women on this makeshift council, from respected matriarchs Agata (Judith Ivey) and Greta (Sheila McCarthy) to their respective daughters, Salomé (Claire Foy) and Mejal (Michelle McLeod). Good luck keeping them all straight.

At first, the discussion features representatives of three clans, but the sternest and most interesting, Scarface Janz (McDormand), withdraws from the discussion early on. She represents the “women who do nothing” – those who voted to forgive and be saved – while the remaining eight want their children to be safe. They know that’s not possible if they agree to the terms of the elders, and so they talk, weighing the pros and cons while August (Ben Whishaw), the college-educated – and therefore relatively enlightened – schoolteacher – takes a few minutes. Only August can read and write, and although he has loved Ona since childhood, he chooses to be an ally rather than part of the problem (the problem being the patriarchy in its current form).

Over the course of two days up there in the hayloft, these eight women have their say on the subject, including two girls, Autje (Kate Hallett) and Neitje (Liv McNeil), who swing from the rafters and tie their braids together while the adults argue. “Why are you complicating things? asks Autje. “It’s all very, very boring,” adds Neitje. This line is funny. Guess why.

Compare Polley’s movie to the vast majority of man-made movies, and it’s obvious the dudes have been doing things differently all these years. Call it “a little less talk and a lot more action” – not that there’s anything wrong with talking. Take “Twelve Angry Men”: This film is practically nothing more than a speech. It’s just that Polley miscalculated something in the way she presents this particular conversation, so neither the urgency nor the anger comes through. Yet with “Women Talking,” Polley gave eight of the industry’s top actors a rare opportunity to reinvent their world. If you listen to what they have to say – like, really listen, even if it means going back or going back a second time – these women are clearly addressing something far more important than a specifically Mennonite issue.

As written, the film is largely confined to a barn, which Polley and DP Luc Montpellier shoot in virtually the widest screen format and highest definition imaginable. Then they lower the saturation so much that the image looks almost black and white. These are odd, somewhat distanced stylistic decisions that give the film an unexpected theatricality. Some viewers will surely find this difficult, which is to be expected. The entire storyline is designed to get your blood boiling, while the conversation serves to instill hope. Whatever you think of the experience, it’s a delight to see a woman of Polley’s intuition push the language of cinema again.