The Lost Daughter

 

The Lost Daughter
Starring Olivia Colman, Jessie Buckley, Dakota Johnson, Peter Sarsgaard
Directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal

There's some films out there when, as I'm watching it, I'm wondering exactly what the heck is supposed to be going on. As it continues, that lingering question still resides in my mind, and once it ends, I'm still left with this unwavering sense that I missed something important. Then, not long after it ends, it hits me: what I witnessed was a pure masterpiece so delicately and divinely written, acted, and directed that I wasn't supposed to fully understand what's always happening, but it's something that subtly creeps into your subconscious and it's something you can't let go of. "The Lost Daughter" is one such film, a movie where the director serves as a master surgeon, delicately making precision cuts in your soul as you sit there totally oblivious to the fact that you're slowly being operated on, but because there's no physical scarring doesn't mean there's not mental ones.

Leda Caruso (Olivia Colman) is an unassuming woman taking a solo vacation in Greece, where she enjoys the solitude of reading books, relaxing by the beach, and generally just being alone. She has some odd interactions with the hotel caretaker Lyle (Ed Harris) and assistant Will (Paul Mescal), and it seems that she has some sort of social anxiety disorder. Things escalate greatly when a huge family arrives - men, women, children, all screaming, shouting, talking, and taking over her beach - and they ask her to move so they can all stay together. She refuses, leading to one of many uncomfortable situations that the movie provides throughout its runtime. While she's watching the family, she's mysteriously drawn to young mother Nina (Dakota Johnson) and her young daughter, and she starts having memories of being younger (Jessie Buckley) and dealing with two crying, screaming girls of her own, and how it drove her crazy. When Nina's child goes missing, Leda finds her, but then takes the child's doll as her own, despite the family's obvious frantic search for the doll and Nina's daughter constantly crying. The tension only builds as Leda remembers more about her past, and her social interactions become more and more intense, culminating in past mistakes bubbling to the surface through the eyes of a highly unreliable narrator.

Based on the novel by Elena Ferrante, "The Lost Daughter" is the directorial debut of Maggie Gyllenhaal, who, along with the likes of Ben Affleck, Clint Eastwood, Jon Krasinski, and Olivia Wilde, proves that she's just as capable behind the lens as in front of it. She managed to direct a film that's very unique in how it tells its story, not by using flashbacks as mere flashbacks, but serving as a parallel story that blends with what's happening in real time, as you try to grasp who the heck Leda really is and what makes her tick  - but it's something easier said than done. At first, she appears to be a mild-mannered middle-aged woman on vacation to get away from it all, and as the film moves along, you realize that she is indeed on vacation to get away from it all, but it's a vacation that's been going on for years in her life.

Gyllenhaal manages to craft an air of uncomfortability right from the very start, as Leda shows that not everything is as it appears, and only gets worse as the film progresses, most notably when she inconceivably steals a doll belonging to a child and treating it almost as her own child, all the while befriending the family who's been frantically searching for it. If there's a reason behind this action, it's not easily understood - much like Leda's entire existence. Glimpsing at her past, you sense that the title has more to do with a metaphorical lost daughter than an actual one, as she herself is the lost daughter in the movie: we never see her mother, but hear from her that growing up wasn't the best with her, and she seems to show that same sense of contempt with her own young daughters, as she constantly leaves them and yells at them, showing more negative memories than positive ones. Yet not even that answers the question as to why she took the doll, and the persistent sense of dread that the viewer exhibits as she becomes more lackadaisical to its whereabouts.

Olivia Colman continues to dominate with her performances, an actress with absolutely no peer but one who's constantly underestimated, and who once again delivers an all-in performance here. Leda is on the tightrope of sanity, and Colman plays her as such - a woman whose thoughts are as unknown as anything, and who exhibits over-the-top reactions to the simplest of events (such as a totally cringe-worthy movie theater confrontation). Throughout the movie, she exhibits these strange behaviors that keeps you riveted to the screen, and through the masterclass eyes of Colman, you know you're in great hands even if you have no idea what she's thinking at any given moment.

Likewise, her younger counterpart seems almost tailor-made for the Oscar-winning actress. Jessie Buckley portrays the young Leda as a head-start academic who's mentally bogged down by having two crying girls all the time, and who seemingly can't handle the responsibility. She doesn't feel loved at home, and finds acceptance with a fellow peer, played by Gyllenhaal's husband Peter Sarsgaard. You can get a sense of Leda's free spirit, and how having children has slowly crushed that spirit over time, being bogged down by the heavy weight of responsibility that leads her to make a shocking decision that, through Leda's eyes, doesn't feel at all shocking.

When the entirety of the film rises or falls depending on your actors, Gyllenhaal chose the best in Colman and Buckley, who together present Leda as a woman on the brink of something, but not really sure what that is. A woman who's incredibly narcissistic but terribly off-putting, and who continually balances on the tightrope of sanity, leaving the audience feeling unnerved and on the edge of their seat while not really understanding why. This is the hallmark of an excellent film, a terrific story, and compelling performances.

Proving her prowess behind the camera as well as in front, Maggie Gyllenhaal gives us a gloriously confined film in "The Lost Daughter," delivered perfectly by Olivia Colman in another awards-worthy performance.

The Score: A+