Sonnie’s Edge
“They can’t see past it. No one can.”
There’s a lot to be said about this 17min short on Netflix, though I’ll be only focusing on a few elements.
First, this has a (wonderfully) unapologetic, feminist narrative. There’s a sense of weight and fullness around how Sonnie and her crew take up space, both in the storytelling and in the more literal sense of participating in a male dominated sport. The below review will assume readers have already watched the short, so I will not be summarizing.
Gore and violence are typically seen through a masculine lens, yet what we get here is a reminder they are not inherently masculine at all. Men and women share these primal descriptors, but there’s a reason a woman’s violence is so much more terrifying. Set within a patriarchal framework, power is bent and manipulated to be favorable towards men. The violence, which inevitably follows, seeks to solidify and maintain this dynamic by objectifying women. In the case of Sonnie, she is raped and left for dead. Taken abstractly, this abuse can be seen as a byproduct of a deeper fear and insecurity that lies at the heart of this toxic structure: women are weapons that can bring the whole system down.
The short film illustrates this on literal levels by ultimately revealing how Sonnie isn’t controlling the monster remotely — she is the monster. She is physically using her body to kill, becoming a weapon that tears through the soft flesh of male egos like a hot knife through butter. She is a reminder that any sense of control or dominance men believe they have is false, held by threads that threaten to snap when women refuse to stay down.
The edge Sonnie uses is fear. Men do not know fear. They lack this edge because they buy into their own fantasies. Take a look at the competition itself. An underground fight club dominated by men. It’s a testosterone fueled safe space for boys to play monsters, where they beat their chest and revel in the violence they believe is their birthright. But the men in these competitions aren’t actually fighting; instead, they’re controlling beasts through future tech, so in the end it’s a glorified video game, one that provides an illusion of greatness. Sonnie is not there to play however, and she is the only one willing to stake her life on it.
Her existence threatens the illusion, so much so we open the story by seeing a rich man try to buy her out. But she can’t be bought. Her life is on the line with each fight, so there’s no conceivable reality where she will accept.
There’s a moment when Sonnie says, “You don’t come into this world with hate.” Hatred is encouraged through all forms of abuse, especially toxic displays of masculinity when addressing the patriarchy. It is manufactured and exchanged as currency, a commodity that allows people to divide others and garner power. A tangible concept vibrating as loud as the cheers roaring through the stadium as humanity pays to be fed more violence so it can be internalized, normalized, and used to control.
And yet, this is not what gives Sonnie an edge. That isn’t the story being told. She is not the victim — they are the victims, caught on the receiving end of real fear. She is wielding something far more powerful than the whims of hate: Death.
Death is primal and the great equalizer, and perhaps this is a form of ancient justice she has come to embody? Whatever the meaning, it seems few people can truly see past Sonnie’s tragic backstory. There is a deeper truth to her. A frightening one. It may have been hate that led to her sexual abuse, but it was fear that gave her the tools to come back stronger and bear teeth. Fear empowers her while it weakens others.
It’s sad no one can see beyond the violent backstory. It’s a mask that obscures. Even her crew seem unable to do it, with one claiming Sonnie is in the ring to carve “up the men who did this to her,” which may be the case, but it isn’t the full story is it? It’s not the true edge of the proverbial knife.
It can be argued Sonnie has either been changed into a monster, or has merely shed skin to become her truer self. However one decides to look at it, to define and limit her as a person who is only motived by “hate” or just a victim of rape is a fatal misstep.
While the short makes clear Sonnie is in full control I think we need to take the time to consider how she is processing her trauma and whether this method is healthy or not.
When Sonnie in the arena she is essentially re-creating the events of her rape, but in a way where she comes out on top. During the fight, her opponent pushes her against the wall, closes in, and penetrates her with a slow stab. It almost feels like we’re seeing a flashback of when she was first attacked — then, Sonnie fights back. Knowing her opponnent will want to escape, she holds him close and bites down, piercing him as he struggles. She’s the aggressor now, and it feels so good to watch her win.
But are these fights an unhealthy obsession? A means to re-live the trauma over and over again, so she can change the narrative in her head? Or is it a healthy, constructive way of processing the events of that day? Un-masking the villains and facing them head-on? Is the fear Sonnie feels in the arena the same she felt when she was attacked? Is the adrenaline addictive when it’s channeled as a means to fight, instead of to flee? Is there a death drive humming quietly in the background she is unaware of? Or has she fully claimed her trauma, and is no longer afraid — instead, taking it upon herself to educate the men of the world on what real fear is?
Because the story doesn’t delve too deeply into this, I believe the fights are more positive than they are negative when it comes to dealing with her past though it’s important to consider how easily this can become detrimental to her overall healing.
You can’t talk about the sexes without addressing how women support or hold each other back. This is very clearly shown through Sonnie’s interaction with the blond woman. In their brief exchange Sonnie offers her a chance to escape, but the woman replies: “I envy you. Your bravery. I’m maybe even a little bit frightened of you. But I’ll never be like you.”
Already there’s a line between them, and the assumption one cannot become the other. As long as this woman is relatively safe and protected, she gains nothing by leaving. To our knowledge, she has not experienced sexual abuse, but lives a life of luxury — a trophy wife, and despite envying Sonnie’s freedom she does not desire it because to desire it is to risk everything. She is also frightened of such independence, and probably put off by the grisly cost — though one cannot ignore the sexual attraction she has for Sonnie, as if fetishizing Sonnie’s trauma. There’s an otherness this woman sees in Sonnie that’s alluring enough to flirt with, but not enough to authentically explore and understand. This interplay is deeply disturbing when you consider how this woman enables male abusers to continue hurting other women. This is shown by her part in betraying Sonnie. Take note that the woman doesn’t just betray Sonnie, she takes part in her murder.
It’s not shocking to observe that the woman is white while Sonnie has more of a tan complexion. The class and racial divide here add to the supposed differences that lead to her saying “I’ll never be like you.” We all know this isn’t quite true. Women, even when they support men and actively seek to maintain the status quo, are never far from having the tables turned because their power is beholden to the males they align themselves with. It’s true that some may benefit more than others but they’ll always be at a disadvantage when the system they move within is innately hostile towards them.
Additional little notes
- Shout out to male allies! I just liked that Sonnie’s crew has a guy in it too
- The blond woman uses her heel to try and kill Sonnie…I feel like there’s some symbolism there…
- The way Sonnie is calm throughout the fight, while her opponent can’t help but lose his composure at the smallest sign of defeat
- The rich man in the beginning walks right up to the monster’s cage and immediately asks “Might I have a peek?” When you consider that he’s taking a peek at Sonnie, you can start to see the layers happening in this small scene
- coolest entrance walk . Ever.
- I’m pretty sure there’s a whole bunch of stuff happening thematically with the colors, but I’ll leave that to someone better equipped to explore
I understand that as a male writer what I take notice of, and my overall interpretations, are bias and limited in their own right so I welcome your takes as well and hope you enjoyed this little piece of mine.
