The Lost Daughter review: the last great Netflix movie of 2021

“I’m a very selfish person,” explains Leda Caruso (Olivia Colman), a literary professor taking a workcation in a seaside Greek town in The Lost Daughter. Based on a novel by Elena Ferrante, actor Maggie Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut follows Leda, a mother of two adult daughters, Bianca and Marta, searching for a quiet corner to read, write, and relax. Leda thinks she’s discovered such a place at a resort’s sunny beach. Lyle, an older caretaker (a dashing Ed Harris), seems to be interested in Leda. Will Mescal (a bright, young Irish student) is also observant.

When she is called to a meeting with a family who are obnoxious and have little regard for others, Leda’s downtime gets interrupted. The family’s matriarch, a pregnant Callie (Dagmara Domińczyk), displeases Leda through her micro-aggressions. Conversely Leda becomes obsessed with Callie’s relatives: Nina (Dakota Johnson) and her daughter Elena (Athena Martin). Leda is able to see a part of Nina as a young mother struggling with motherhood. Gyllenhaal confirms as much in a series of flashbacks to Leda’s younger years (played by the always fantastic Jessie Buckley), when she was a comparative literature grad student balancing her studies with caring for her precocious daughters.

In conducting the drama, Gyllenhaal is frank about the hardships of motherhood, and the idea that not every person is cut out for the task (in that regard the film works well in complement to Mike Mills’ recent C’Mon C’Mon). In reality, this film shows that sometimes being mom can be the worst thing for a person. The Lost DaughterThis is a well-crafted and sharply-written interrogation of parents who are less than likable.

Photo by YANNIS DRAKOULIDIS/NETFLIX

Gyllenhaal and cinematographer Helene Louvart discover extensive complexities over the terrain of these actors’ faces. It is not the same as many filmmakers’ impulses. House of GucciHere, filmmakers are breaking through the monotony and repetitive visual language of medium compositions to embrace the power of close-up. The camera, rarely hurried in how long it settles on a character, constantly searches Colman’s face for the wellspring of conflicting emotion gushing from her.

These moments are captured by Colman’s expressive smile with ease. Callie for example asks Leda to move the umbrella. Leda’s chipper lips reveal her scorn. Other times, her face and body are overwhelmed by the exhilaration of escape. Such is the late-night party where Lyle and she dance to Bon Jovi. Flirtatious fissures erupt causing mischievous smiles to creep across Colman’s face. Leda is also prone to feeling a little sad as she watches Nina, overwhelmed by her caregiving duties for Elena. Leda is unmoored by the interaction between mother and daughter. She also experiences painful memories from Marta and Bianca’s childhoods, which causes fainting spells.

The Lost Daughter It takes in the extremes. Louvart’s photography captures the sun as a character; it can make the hues of the brown sand, the verdant green trees, and crystal blue waters almost overbearingly vibrant. Mixed with a sparse environment rife for contemplation, none of the interiors or exteriors are ostentatious, the mood concerning past loves and distant children resembling Richard Linklater’s After Midnight. These parallel benefits deepen the bond between Lyle and Leda. They’re two of a kind, imperfect parents to their respective children.

“I’m an unnatural mother,” Leda later explains to Nina. The personal shortcomings of flawed parents is the dramatic churn of Gyllenhaal’s film. It’s the desire to run away when the parental mantle you are ill-equipped for becomes untenable. In vain, each character attempts to escape their role as filials: Lyle in close solitude in the endless Greek summer; Nina seeking comfort from a lover; Leda absconding abroad during her young years. Despite these characters’ deepest desires, born from a kind of selfishness, they cannot wish their children away. It is impossible for them to ignore the fact that they have to accept certain responsibilities as parents.

These difficulties bubble up in Nina and Lyle, but it’s most acutely felt in the arcs of Leda’s past and present lives. Although Buckley and Colman have few similarities in physical appearance, they share a similar spirit. This is evident from their expressive faces to how they internallyize anger. Their common talent is performing performatrive false impressions. This includes the way they can talk in small-talk and rote movements, have laughs here and there but still not really be present. Leda glides along the surface of the universe on a passive wave, where her true motivations are not always fully understood. Without ever having seen each other, Buckley and Colman nurtured that line, giving real, lived-in details to an intricate character.

These tangents twist and turn to form a later mystery: A doll belonging to Nina’s daughter goes missing. Leda is quickly revealed as the culprit, but the enigma isn’t the who in this situation. It’s the why. Despite seeing the effect the missing doll has on Nina’s daughter, her yowls echo over the beach, Leda keeps the play companion to herself. Keeping in mind spoilers: The doll is the emotional fulcrum of Leda’s feelings on her own motherhood. In taking apart Leda’s reasoning Gyllenhaal relies on a deliberate pacing, accompanied to Affonso Gonçalves’ sophisticated jazz-blues score, whereby certain scenes arrive in a torrent and others move leisurely. This can feel to crushing degree, an intention desire that may irritate some but not one that is as strong.

It’s difficult to believe The Lost Daughter is Gyllenhaal’s feature directorial debut. With the experience of an experienced filmmaker, her precise and rhythmic storytelling, visual language, and the performances that each actor gives, Gyllenhaal moves effortlessly. There isn’t a single scene devolving into excess, a single extraneous line of dialogue or a shot that lingers beyond its welcome. Gyllenhaal is clear about what she desires and how to achieve it. You can find out more about Gyllenhaal here. The Lost Daughter It is an indicator of what is to come for actress and writer-director. Her filmmaking future looks brighter than the Greecian sun.