“Test Pattern,” Shatara Michelle Ford’s feature directorial debut, could form an unofficial trilogy with Jessica M. Thompson’s “The Light of the Moon” and Eliza Hittman’s “Never Rarely Sometimes Always.” All three films are unsparing takes on trauma, healthcare, and rape culture, focusing on those who tend to be hardest hit by systemic inequities: women of color and poor women.
The story of a Latinx woman trying to move forward after an assault and finding that there is little hope for justice, “The Light of the Moon” was released just as the Harvey Weinstein stories galvanized the resurgence of the #MeToo movement. “Never Rarely Sometimes Always,” which follows a working class teen and her cousin as they cross state lines for an abortion, came out just before COVID-19 shut everything down and shone a light on just how fragile and flawed U.S. healthcare really is — and offered conservative lawmakers yet another opportunity to restrict reproductive rights.
And now, nine months after George Floyd’s murder and over a year into COVID — which has been most destructive to women of color — “Test Pattern” has arrived. It’s the portrait of a Black woman and her experiences before, during, and after a sexual assault, and a sobering account of the (myriad, intersectional) ways our health system fails rape survivors.
Renesha (Brittany S. Hall) is thriving in her personal and professional lives. She and her partner, Evan (Will Brill), enjoy a lived-in, tender happiness together, and she’s just left her corporate job for a more fulfilling role at a nonprofit. She’s out with a girlfriend (Gail Bean) when she meets a pushy-but-not-monstrous dude at a bar. He and his friend flirt with Renesha and her pal, keep the drinks coming, and cajole her into having a weed gummy. Before she knows it, Renesha is wasted and barely able to hold her head up. And then she wakes up in the pushy stranger’s bed.
What follows is like a nightmare. Disoriented and full of dread, Renesha only remembers snippets of what happened, and it’s her boyfriend who suggests that they go to the hospital to get a rape kit. But that’s easier said than done. They are sent from one facility to another, driving back and forth throughout the day. Some clinics don’t have staff properly trained to administer rape kits, others don’t bother to specify why they won’t help Renesha. Most hospital personnel don’t even show compassion when they learn what she went through.
The lack of organization and empathy is shocking, and infuriating. Evan gets openly pissed but for the most part, Renesha keeps her emotions in check. Maybe she doesn’t expect much, or perhaps is afraid getting angry will just make things worse for her. “Test Pattern” subtly underscores the inherent privilege Evan has always had and taken for granted by depicting him getting mad. The system has always worked for him before, why the hell isn’t it working now? Meanwhile, the traumatized Renesha — whose gender and race have denied her the privilege Evan doesn’t even notice — maintains a calm, polite demeanor, even though she is the person who has just endured an assault.
Like “The Light of the Moon” and “Never Rarely Sometimes Always,” “Test Pattern” isn’t always an easy watch, but it’s a necessary one. Renesha’s story is her own, but also a symbol of the countless other Black women who have been denied kindness, understanding, and adequate healthcare when they need it most. This film is a damning account of what happens when the realities of being a woman, being Black, being a survivor, and being a patient collide — and it’s one everyone should see.
“Test Pattern” is now in virtual cinemas.
