Lost Girls
1/4
Starring: Amy Ryan, Gabriel Byrne, Thomasin McKenzie, Oona Laurence, Dean Winters, Kevin Corrigan, Reed Birney
Rated R for Language Throughout
Just because a movie tells a story of importance or has its heart in the right place doesn't mean I will endorse it. I am not that easy to please. Whether I agree with a movie's politics or point of view is irrelevant. In fact, movies are more interesting when they don't fall into either category (or at least challenge my way of thinking). Such is the case with "Lost Girls," a new film that tells the story of a woman who is fighting for justice when the police and community have turned a blind eye.
Mari Gilbert (Ryan) is doing her best to stay above water for her daughters Sherre (McKenzie) and Sarra (Laurence). She's working as many jobs as she can, and relies on her oldest daughter Shannan to send money when she can. One days Shannan says that she is coming home to visit. But she doesn't arrive. With no word from her, Mari gets worried and goes to the police. They don't pay any attention to her, mainly because, much to Mari's shock, Shannan was a sex worker. But Mari won't take no for an answer, and soon the police have uncovered more and more bodies pointing to a serial killer.
That this story needed to be told, I have no doubt. What happened to these women and their families is heartbreaking and the arrogance and disinterest of the police because they were prostitutes is an outrage. But is this the movie to tell it? No. This is a terrible movie all on its own. Primarily because it's so badly made that it turns a true story social justice and a serial killer into a sleep aid. This movie is unbearably boring.
Amy Ryan and Gabriel Byrne are too good for this material. The experienced actors that they are, they should have known that, important as the story is to tell, the screenplay stinks. The characters are thinly drawn, the story isn't on the page, and it lacks focus. They do their best and maintain a level of dignity, but it's a losing battle. The biggest surprise is Thomasin McKenzie, the young New Zealand actress who has been making big waves these past two years. She made a sensational debut in the little-seen "Leave No Trace" (a performance that should have gotten her an Oscar nomination, but did not), last year's critical darling "Jojo Rabbit" and Oscar-hopeful "The King." I didn't see the latter two, but she blew me away in "Leave No Trace" (it was my number two film of that year). She blew my mind again here, although for a different reason: she's awful. Every line she speaks rings so false that I couldn't believe it was her. When she's on screen (which thankfully isn't often), it's like listening to fingernails on the blackboard.
The screenplay by Michael Werwie may be poorly written, but director Liz Garbus deserves equal blame. What should be a harrowing mix of outrage and suspense is instead a cold, clinical and dull affair. Where is the passion? The anger? The need to tell this story? This should be a wake-up call to the world. The most vulnerable of us are often the most ignored, and the job of a movie like this is to make sure that we ignore them no longer. Tomorrow morning I doubt I will remember anything about it at all.
Starring: Amy Ryan, Gabriel Byrne, Thomasin McKenzie, Oona Laurence, Dean Winters, Kevin Corrigan, Reed Birney
Rated R for Language Throughout
Just because a movie tells a story of importance or has its heart in the right place doesn't mean I will endorse it. I am not that easy to please. Whether I agree with a movie's politics or point of view is irrelevant. In fact, movies are more interesting when they don't fall into either category (or at least challenge my way of thinking). Such is the case with "Lost Girls," a new film that tells the story of a woman who is fighting for justice when the police and community have turned a blind eye.
Mari Gilbert (Ryan) is doing her best to stay above water for her daughters Sherre (McKenzie) and Sarra (Laurence). She's working as many jobs as she can, and relies on her oldest daughter Shannan to send money when she can. One days Shannan says that she is coming home to visit. But she doesn't arrive. With no word from her, Mari gets worried and goes to the police. They don't pay any attention to her, mainly because, much to Mari's shock, Shannan was a sex worker. But Mari won't take no for an answer, and soon the police have uncovered more and more bodies pointing to a serial killer.
That this story needed to be told, I have no doubt. What happened to these women and their families is heartbreaking and the arrogance and disinterest of the police because they were prostitutes is an outrage. But is this the movie to tell it? No. This is a terrible movie all on its own. Primarily because it's so badly made that it turns a true story social justice and a serial killer into a sleep aid. This movie is unbearably boring.
Amy Ryan and Gabriel Byrne are too good for this material. The experienced actors that they are, they should have known that, important as the story is to tell, the screenplay stinks. The characters are thinly drawn, the story isn't on the page, and it lacks focus. They do their best and maintain a level of dignity, but it's a losing battle. The biggest surprise is Thomasin McKenzie, the young New Zealand actress who has been making big waves these past two years. She made a sensational debut in the little-seen "Leave No Trace" (a performance that should have gotten her an Oscar nomination, but did not), last year's critical darling "Jojo Rabbit" and Oscar-hopeful "The King." I didn't see the latter two, but she blew me away in "Leave No Trace" (it was my number two film of that year). She blew my mind again here, although for a different reason: she's awful. Every line she speaks rings so false that I couldn't believe it was her. When she's on screen (which thankfully isn't often), it's like listening to fingernails on the blackboard.
The screenplay by Michael Werwie may be poorly written, but director Liz Garbus deserves equal blame. What should be a harrowing mix of outrage and suspense is instead a cold, clinical and dull affair. Where is the passion? The anger? The need to tell this story? This should be a wake-up call to the world. The most vulnerable of us are often the most ignored, and the job of a movie like this is to make sure that we ignore them no longer. Tomorrow morning I doubt I will remember anything about it at all.
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