Send Help is a particularly effective “good for her” thriller because it probes the psychology of the sleazy chauvinistic boss as much as it does the meek female employee. Bradley isn’t a one-note villain, and he ends up becoming a compelling second protagonist as the film shifts from thriller to rom-com to unhinged splatter-fest. He begins to appreciate Linda’s resourcefulness, and in a fireside heart-to-heart, he opens up about the abuse, emotional and physical, that he received at the hands of his parents. And thanks to O’Brien’s outrageously committed performance, possibly the greatest of his career so far, it’s a fascinating exercise to watch Bradley gradually submit to Linda’s will. Here, the film delicately explores the gendered element of Linda’s revenge arc. When Bradley comes begging for her to share her food, Linda parrots his interview question for the young woman from early in the film and asks if he’s willing to go “above and beyond” for her. Bradley confirms exactly what he meant with that creepy line when he starts to remove his clothes, before Linda cuts him off and assures him that she’s “not like [him]”. Instead, when he eventually betrays her, Bradley gets his comeuppance in a brutal scene where Linda paralyses him and explains that it’s only natural that he’s so ill at ease with the changing power dynamics because he’s a “slave to [his] biology”. As a consequence, she tricks him into thinking she’s castrating him, before revealing that she was only sawing into a dead rat. It’s a show-stopping set piece, but it’s also an incisive way to destabilise the gender politics that underlie so much of the film’s script.

Like a companion piece to Mean Girls in its sharp, often hilarious interrogation of social hierarchies, Send Help sees Rachel McAdams at her best. Her vulnerable, gonzo performance is a must-see, ensuring that the audience remains invested in Linda Liddle from Strategy and Planning—even when her morals go right out the airplane window. As heinous as Linda’s crimes become—namely, she doesn’t tell Bradley that there’s an easy way off the island and later kills his fiancée when she comes looking for him—McAdams’ sensitive portrayal never lets you forget just how poorly this woman has been treated in the “real world”, making it more than understandable why she wouldn’t want to leave. While you squirm at the murder of poor Zuri, Shannon and Swift keep the film’s warped sense of poetic justice in check when we later see her corpse on the shore, visible only in an outstretched hand reaching out of the sand to flaunt the diamond ring that she lorded over Linda back at the office. And even when your sympathy threatens to turn to Bradley’s side, McAdams delivers one shining example of a flawed female character that redirects the audience to root for the frankly deranged Linda.