I won’t say whose blood is on her face, yet at various points in the movie, some seemingly feminist guy — a boss, a husband, a doctor — will let his pretense slip.
Glazer plays Lucy, a young woman hoping for a child; a lightly grizzled Justin Theroux plays her husband Adrian, who wants her to visit his mentor, the superstar obstetrician Dr.
Glazer and Lee’s script scatters its thematic attention in the last third, which ruptures the movie’s attempt to build dread, and director Lee creates a thin, under-realized world.
False Positive therefore spends a lot of time on the obstetrician’s table, long minutes spent looking at Lucy’s face, or watching with her as a medical team rummages between her legs.
There’s a lot of wonderfully gross stuff about pregnancy that it shies away from, for instance.
In general, Theroux chooses to play bland, which puts the onus for conveying creepitude on Brosnan, who slithers around the examining room, murmuring about his “warm” hands as he lubricates a speculum.
Lucy never protests that she, the only woman in the office, always has to order lunch; the other half of her job seems to be adjudicating models’ different types of hotness.
The moment is a throwaway, maybe a five-second shot, but it’s important — it’s one of the only times Lucy is not in the room.