Luca Guadagnino's After the Hunt opens with the sounds of a ticking clock. With each tick, a routine is established for Alma Imhoff (Julia Roberts). She's woken up in the morning by a kiss from her husband Frederik (Michael Stuhlbarg), takes two pills as she shuffles through their classy apartment, and then struts across the Yale campus to teach her philosophy course. Days go by like the seconds on that looming clock, almost as if you could blink and fast-forward through weeks of monotony. And then, one day, that clock stops, jolting your eyes wide open as you scratch and claw to hang onto all that you have.

That occurs the day after Alma and Frederik host a party for the students and faculty. Hank (Andrew Garfield) is the department's resident bad boy, poking and prodding at the generational divide between the guests. He and Alma are good friends, and both are up for the same tenured position. Hank especially likes to mischievously pick on Maggie (Ayo Edebiri), Alma's favorite student, who just submitted her PhD dissertation. Barbs are shared, wine is copiously consumed, and everyone goes home having flexed their favorite philosophical jargon.

Maggie appears on Alma's doorstep the next day. She explains that Hank came up to her apartment after walking her home. A few more drinks were shared, and then he "crossed the line." Hank denies the whole thing, spinning a yarn about confronting Maggie for plagiarizing her dissertation, and this being her way of covering it up. Between what she should believe and what she chooses to believe, Alma becomes the third point in this triangle, which opens up old wounds from her conflicted past.

Guadagnino and first-time screenwriter Nora Garrett don't allow a single door to be kept open, always half or fully closed. Sightlines are blocked and voices are muffled, leaving assumptions to fill in the gaps. “I’m in the business of optics rather than substance,” says the school dean, a poignant summarization of how these issues are handled. A young male student tells Alma that she will get tenure because higher education now favors women in the post-#MeToo climate. Maggie is a black, queer student in a largely white populous, and she comes from rich parents who have made a handful of sizable donations to the university. These things initially carry as much weight as the facts of the case, eventually growing to bury the truth of the matter underneath layers of excuses and conjecture.

But the truth by itself is just as slippery. Guadagnino takes after David Fincher, specifically his idea that “language was invented so people could lie to one another.” Everyone goes into a conversation with an agenda, twisting and turning every syllable beyond its face value. What they can’t control is their body language, which Guadagnino and cinematographer Malik Hassan Sayeed capture under a microscope. Hands fold at the end of a sentence, and eyes dart once a question is asked. Jonathan Demme’s famous close-ups take a new life here, with the 180-degree rule being broken as characters talk directly towards the camera. In those moments, you can no longer hide from what’s been bubbling over, almost as if you’ve been slapped back awake after spacing out.

Roberts is fantastic, presumably taking a lot of inspiration from Cate Blanchett’s performance in Tár. There’s even a similar scene where she scolds a student who dares to question her teachings. Her conviction is supported by her sharp outfits and blonde hair, with every confrontation being a battle she has every intention of winning. But she also carries a loose thread, one that completely unravels her once someone starts to pull on it. Garfield is slimily charming, so full of himself that you’re confident that he is capable of doing bad. And Edebiri finds the gap between naivety and confidence, knowing that she hasn’t been fully stripped of power in this situation.

As evidenced by the Woody Allen-inspired credits, Guadagnino isn’t interested in making things comfortable or easy for us. That doesn’t come as much of a surprise, considering the tangledness of previous works like Suspiria and Queer. Any answer will have to be formulated on your own, and subjected to assumptions and doubts. Even the ending betrays what we were left to speculate, fittingly illustrating that a maze can never be solved by going in a straight line.