The show goes back to the same scene over and over again. It proves that we never need to see rape on screen like this again.

The limited series was one of the most streamed shows after its April release, which also happens to be Sexual assault Awareness month.

In the drama, a Conservative MP tells his wife of his affair with a parliamentary aide before the story is published in the tabloids. Whitehouse is described by his schoolboy mate as a popular and gifted MP who is the most naturally gifted politician. The prime minister's communication director warned him that if Whitehouse got full-on Me Too, his loyalty would appear.

A couple sit at either end of a couch in a wealthy home, the man looking ashamed, the woman looking hurt.

The Whitehouses: Sophie Miller and Rupert Friend as Sophie and James. Credit: Netflix

The police tell Whitehouse that he has been accused of rape by a woman, and that an affair making the tabloids is the least of his worries. Whitehouse is sent flying backwards into the air in a scene that should go down in history as one of the most ridiculous visual decisions ever to be made on TV.

What unfolds is a drama that centers around sexual assault in a lazy, gratuitous manner, its depiction showing exactly why it never needs to be seen again.

The assault during the series is depicted repeatedly by director S. J.Clarkson. The primary case in question happened in an elevator in the House of Commons, and over and over throughout six long episodes, the show cuts back to this scene, even opening with it. Rape is sensationalized, glamorized, and exploitative from the beginning of the show. Heavy breathing, hair moving, sounds of torn fabric. A breathy 5 Alarm song playing as the lyrics sing, "Desire takes over, lost all control, how the mighty fall."

A woman in a suit in her workplace looks upset but is holding it together.

Naomi Scott plays Olivia Lytton. Credit: Netflix

This scene is repeated many times. It plays out in the courtroom for a long time, focusing on the victim's face during the attack. It does not end here. Whitehouse is back at university, in his privileged heyday of spraying champagne and destroying rooms with his mates, when a second rape happens. The camera itself is supposed to be drunk, but it is depicted with even more shadows and blur. Clothes ripping, a woman gasping, more heavy breathing, all in a dark cloister of an Oxford college. The viewer stays with the victim.

TV shows and films should never glamorize or trivialize sexual violence, which is exactly what Anatomy of a Scandal does, in which the crime is normalized and trivialized, and survivors are blamed for violence committed.

Representation matters. We form our concept of reality through narratives. In her book, Public Rape, Horeck examines the link between real and represented rape, as well as how depictions of rape in film and TV inform our real world beliefs of what rape looks like. We judge real experiences against fictional ones and formulate what is real from these representations. In Monica Chau's book The Subject of Rape, Hannah Feldman discusses how the representations of rape reveal a paradigmatic schism between a factual event and its depiction.

The depiction of events like the Scandal do severe damage. When a show is watched by millions, it creates a false representation of sexual assault, and may even make viewers less safe. According to the New York Times, fictional rape scenes may help shape how viewers think about sexual violence in the real world. Even a single exposure to dramatized sexual assault has been found to influence attitudes and inclinations.

Rape has been used on screen as a way to develop a backstory, and as a way to motivate male protagonists as avengers. There are graphic scenes of assault that are included in order to justify violence against the perpetrators.

What is the point of making the audience watch this elevator scene over and over in excruciating slow-motion?

Whenever sexual assault is included in a television or film narrative, it should be questioned. Was it necessary for this story? Why? Why do you need to show it on the screen?

The basic questions should have been asked by the writers, producers, and directors. The audience is being made to watch this elevator scene over and over. Perhaps it was meant to shock the audience, or make them consider the ongoing nature of consent and grey areas. It did not add value to our cultural conversations surrounding sexual violence or to changing our culture for the better.

Rape has been used more in screen narratives over the past few years. Michaela Coel's I May destroy You is one of the best examples of handling assault with care, and it is one of the challenging stories that have traditionally been told. The true realities of sexual assault have been shown in survivor-focused narratives, but also of who the attacker is, who the victims are, and the aftermath.

The show ignores survivor narratives instead of taking a lesson from them. The first time you see him, it is from the viewpoint of Whitehouse's wife. There is no way thatSophie is the victim of this violation. Whitehouse is not flying through the air.

A woman sits in the viewing section of a courthouse.

Sienna Miller as Sophie Whitehouse. Credit: Netflix

In the court scenes, the viewpoint of Lytton is only briefly heard, and it is plagued by grotesque flashbacks. What was it like when she spoke? Is it possible that you were viciously grilled during the cross-examination? When seeking legal justice, survivors are often victims of the system again. The cruelties of the legal system and how women are let down by the systems that supposedly are supposed to give them justice are shown in some shows.

When the verdict is read, there is no one to see Lytton. The victim and avenging individual merged into prosecutor Kate Woodcroft, who was raped by Whitehouse at Oxford in the 1990s. In both the show and the one before it, she was given a shocking lack of agency, even though her case is front and center.

A prosecutor in a head wig speaks in court.

Michelle Dockery as Kate Woodcroft. Credit: Netflix

Those who have survived sexual assault are particularly vulnerable to the detrimental portrayal of the show. The effect this has on survivors is rarely discussed. The opportunity to respect this, and to dive into extremely important issues including consent, relationship rape, the devastating lack of convictions for assault, just to name a few, but it failed to do so in a meaningful way.

The show tries to expose power dynamics and how powerful men can get away with anything. Whitehouse has a Monopoly card in his wallet. He is above the law, always winning the game, and his children chant that Whitehouses always come out on top. If you are attacked by a powerful man, you would better hope that he committed some other crime that he will be held accountable for, because he is definitely not going to be. What world is that justice for survivors?

In order to uphold rape culture and downplays the realities of rape and sexual assault, Anatomy of a Scandal relies on old, lazy tropes and chooses to lean on a glossy, exploitative manner. To eradicate sexual violence from our society, we need the representation of assault to be constructed by the realities of it. We do not need it to be shown on a screen.

If you've experienced sexual violence, you can call the National Sexual assault hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) or visit online.rainn.org to get help. If you are based in the UK, you can call the Rape Crisis hotline.