There’s a scene early on in the Apple TV thriller Losing Alice where Alice, a 48-year-old mother of three, sits on a wharf drinking a beer with a young woman named Sophie. A filmmaker, Alice has put her career on pause to focus on her family. But when Sophie, a young screenwriter who idolizes Alice, asks Alice to direct her freshman project, a dark tale involving BDSM and a mysterious death, Alice agrees. She is captivated not just with the screenplay but with Sophie herself, who is beautiful and, most importantly, uninhibited.
“There’s always a ton of guilt,” Alice confides to Sophie, describing the challenges of being a wife, mother and filmmaker.
She asks Sophie if she experiences guilt: “No,” she replies without hesitation.
With Sophie’s encouragement, Alice begins to loosen up: The two attend a sensual, sweaty dance class together, get drunk on a boat, and go swimming in night waters. Sophie represents Alice’s libidinal other, an externalized id; to say yes to Sophie is to say yes to everything she’s repressed as a wife and mother.
