I have no problem with Olivia Colman becoming the next Meryl Streep. In the eyes of the Academy and other awards junkets at least. For a long while it was enough for Streep to be in a movie out around Oscar time for her to get a nomination, and Colman’s consideration last year for The Father suggests she may be a new favourite (incidentally, the winner for The Favourite!). She gives a great performance in The Lost Daughter, the Netflix movie debut by Maggie Gyllenhaal -perhaps not one of my five best of the year, but one that will probably yield her a nomination, and that’s perfectly fine.
Because Colman, like Streep before her, is a damn good actress capable of a great degree of range, though in different respects than Streep. The Lost Daughter, if it succeeds at anything, it’s in demonstrating this, as Colman plays one of her most compelling and complex characters yet, even if the movie itself doesn’t quite keep up with her in that regard.
It is a curious piece, adapted from a novel by Elena Ferrante about a middle-aged woman on holiday at a resort in Greece who becomes a touch obsessed with a fellow vacationing young mother; a woman who reminds her often of herself at that age, and her past mistakes, which she has never fully examined or gotten over. The narrative is split asymmetrically between Colman’s older Leda Caruso inhabiting this environment and context, and snapshots of her younger self (an excellent Jessie Buckley) struggling with the responsibilities of motherhood and a failing relationship some twenty years prior that’s all mirrored somewhat in what Leda can discern of the life of Nina (Dakota Johnson).
So much of the film then is in Leda’s head space -her memories and perceptions that may not always speak for the truth. What she sees in Nina’s relationship to her husband (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) and daughter Elena is informed by her own experiences as much as reality -the dissatisfaction and resentment she knows personally. And that may or may not be why she all of sudden steals Elena’s favourite doll without the family knowing, sparking a traumatizing emotional experience for the girl and an intense search by the family. Leda can never quite explain or justify why, it’s just what she felt like doing -what she perhaps felt was her duty to do. Perhaps it is a symbolic revenge -one of the earliest flashbacks shows her children defacing a doll of great value to her and in her anger she disposes of it by throwing it out a window. But then the doll she takes, she makes sure to care for, and it’s unclear whether she’ll give it back. Late in the film she refers to herself as an “unnatural mother” and that certainly is backed up by what we see of this behaviour, and especially of her past, how her actions, relationships and choices in that role have psychologically impacted her in the present.
She’s seen to have been a mother frequently impatient with her children, in every bit of her body language finding them a burden. Her dispassionate husband (Jack Farthing) certainly didn’t alleviate her depression. Gyllenhaal goes the extra mile to highlight these scenes’ intimacy with a lot of close-ups and handheld camera movement. You’re put through Leda’s frustration with these needy children, made to understand her feelings of dismay and disconnect -and it’s somewhat unsettling. As this past narrative weaves through Leda’s time in Greece, the harsh details are revealed about her affair with a professor (Peter Sarsgaard), and ultimately a walking out on her family. The uncomfortable part is that it’s the scenes from this period of her life where she is the most content.
And it’s the weight of her self-awareness of this, that guilt that troubles her so much now, and makes her so impulsive and unpredictable. Gyllenhaal and Colman build considerable tension around Leda and what these circumstances will bring out of her. There are little things, like an awkward exchange with another vacationer politely asking her to move on the beach and her refusal to do so; and then there are larger episodes, such as a group of obnoxious, disrespectful teens loudly interrupting a movie showing only to go quiet when Leda brings in management (her anger here is extremely relatable -those kids are the fucking worst!) -you could hardly blame her for disliking youth. At one point she finds out about an affair Nina is having, much like the one she had, and as the two women build a relationship, the younger begins to perhaps cross lines in her trust of Leda -asking favours such as using her apartment for sex. It all becomes an extremely stressful situation, and you’re waiting for that to come crashing down.
All in all, it’s a fascinating character study that culminates with a curious moment of anti-resolution, though I don’t know how earned it really is. The film’s is somewhat spotty, and it doesn’t always maintain momentum, in spite of Colman’s best efforts. There are some strong beats in the film about parenting and fulfillment, and how the two don’t necessarily go hand in hand -a spotlight of a specific mid-life depression, even if Gyllenhaal doesn’t say a whole lot about it. However I appreciate what she has to say about remorse -that it is complicated and multi-faceted. Leda regrets the neglect and trauma she inflicted on her children, but not necessarily the need she had to do it. Certainly though, Leda wants to prevent her mistakes from being repeated in Nina. By the end this perhaps comes about, though not in a way she would have liked.
This is a solid first movie from Gyllenhaal, that expresses an ambitious boldness in its’ taboo themes of motherhood -her script standing out as much if not more than her direction, which is subtle and minimalist to both a weakness and strength. But The Lost Daughter is Colman’s movie, and perhaps Buckley’s as well to a degree. It works best and will have a lasting power on its’ lead performance. And as I said before, that’s perfectly fine by my estimation. Olivia Colman is here to stay and Gyllenhaal provided her a good vehicle to reinforce that in the aftermath of her tenure on The Crown. Fans of hers will not be disappointed.
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