Review/Opinion

'The Lost Daughter'

JesIn Maggie Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut “The Lost Daughter,” the younger version of bad mother Leda is portrayed by Scottish actor Jessie Buckley.
JesIn Maggie Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut “The Lost Daughter,” the younger version of bad mother Leda is portrayed by Scottish actor Jessie Buckley.

Maggie Gyllenhaal makes her directorial debut in "The Lost Daughter," an assured and daring first feature that's full of surprises both narratively and technically. It's a worthwhile adaptation of the novella "My Brilliant Friend" by Italian author Elena Ferrante. The book is the first in Ferrante's four-part series called the Neapolitan Novels and it's definitely worth seeking out.

Empowered by Gyllenhaal's no-frills direction and Olivia Colman's terrific lead performance, "The Lost Daughter" offers a subversive examination of motherhood from an angle we rarely (if ever) see in movies. It's a slippery psychological drama (also written by Gyllenhaal) that's willing and unafraid to challenge cinema's common perception of women. And it does so with an alarming clarity.

The script is soaked in mystery, beginning in one place before ending somewhere else entirely. The story revolves around an enigmatic 48-year-old woman vacationing in the Greek Isles. What at first feels like a tale of loneliness and loss soon curdles into something dark and sour. And to Gyllenhaal's credit, she always keeps us guessing while never bending to audience expectations.

The locked-in and ever intuitive Colman plays Leda Caruso, a literature professor on summer vacation. The movie opens with Leda stumbling down a path toward a rocky beach. A small yet distinct crimson blood stain from a wound on her side has penetrated her pearl white blouse. Just as she reaches the shore Leda takes a quick glance across the waters and then crumbles to the ground. That's how Gyllenhaal sets up her story -- by immediately planting questions in our minds. What happened to Leda? What led to this? Even more importantly, who is she?

To get answers, we're transported back in time, first to Leda's arrival on the island. There she's greeted by Lyle (Ed Harris), the caretaker of the area's rental properties who lugs her suitcases full of books and clothes to her upstairs apartment. Their exchange provides our first glimpse into Leda's demeanor. She's friendly enough but somewhat socially awkward and at times plain-spoken to the point of being off-putting. In this case she wants to be left alone and she has no interest in Lyle's spiel about the island's history or how the air conditioner works.

Later Leda makes her way down to the beach where she enjoys some peaceful alone time aside from the occasional interruptions by the well-meaning young attendant Will (Paul Mescal). But any hopes of quiet and solitude are shattered when a large and rambunctious family suddenly arrives. You can see the frustration simmering in Leda's eyes as the noisy invaders become even harder to digest. But one member of the family catches her attention -- a twenty-something mother named Nina (Dakota Johnson) struggling to keep her frisky daughter occupied.

Over time Leda's curiosity turns into a creepy fixation that triggers flashbacks to her own time as an exasperated young mom. In those scenes, Jessie Buckley plays the younger Leda and she shares a startling symbiosis with Colman. Their performances are both fueled by a similar emotional intensity and are so in-tune with each other that you never doubt you're seeing the same woman.

Gyllenhaal's confidence in her storytelling really shows once the flashbacks are introduced. These scenes fluidly weave into and out of the central story, illuminating the main character with an uncomfortable clarity. I won't dare spoil where the movie goes, but Leda's story (both past and present) takes us down some roads as unpredictable as they are unsettling.

"The Lost Daughter" quickly becomes a movie built around revelation. Gyllenhaal urges her audience to invest in Leda even if we don't like what's revealed about her. But that's part of the film's allure. It challenges our perceptions and expectations in a brutally frank way. It isn't worried about us liking Leda. It's far more concerned with portraying her honestly. So we're left with a character so sincerely constructed that some will find her impossible to like. Me? I found myself juggling empathy with disdain for Leda which (I believe) is exactly the conflict Gyllenhaal wants us to have.

As its story plays out, you can't help but be drawn in closer by the work of Colman and Buckley. Two actors portraying different stages of the same person's life is nothing new to cinema. Rarely has it been done this seamlessly. There are obvious distinctions in their performances, but both tap into much of the same psychology. Meanwhile a really good Johnson adds a beguiling presence while Harris is as sturdy as always. And Peter Sarsgaard (Gyllenhaal's real-life husband) brings his usual gravitas to a handful of later scenes.

While Gyllenhaal's shrewd direction and cagey storytelling are real strengths, her visual choices range from sumptuous to suffocating. Cinematographer Helene Louvart's reliance on intense close-ups can be overpowering and a part of me wishes she had done more visually with the setting. At the same time, her unfussy approach keeps our focus where it needs to be -- on the prickly, complicated Leda. She's the true centerpiece of this achingly melancholy first feature from Gyllenhaal who shows she has a bright and exciting new future ahead of her.

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