The Girl on the Train, 2016.
Directed by Tate Taylor
Starring Emily Blunt, Rebecca Ferguson, Haley Bennett, Luke Evans, Justin Theroux and Allison Janney.
SYNOPSIS:
A divorcee becomes entangled in a missing persons investigation that promises to send shockwaves throughout her life.
“A drunk, a whore and a mother walk into a bar,” seems to be the set up of a joke with no punch line in Tate Taylor’s effective if not affecting Girl on the Train. For a film with which women occupy its predominant roles, it has a rather backwards view; female characters occupy a space awkwardly in the “uncanny valley,” they seem to resemble actual people, but are more hollow shell than flesh.
Emily Blunt stars as Rachel Watson, an alcoholic vicariously living the lives of those she watches through the windows of her morning commute to work; one of which being ex-husband, Tom (Justin Theroux), who still lives in the same house with a small child and a new trophy wife in Anna (Rebecca Ferguson).
Her fancy is peaked by the relationship of ideal couple Scott and Megan Hipwell (Luke Evans and Haley Bennett). She creates a dream life for them, which comes to a crashing halt upon her discovery of infidelity. Drunk and filled with rage, she brings it upon herself to confront Megan. She jumps off the train then blacks out, waking up the next morning bruised and bloody, alerted by the sudden disappearance of Megan.
Where it tries desperately to reach the dizzy heights of Fincher at his most gritty or De Palma at his most voyeuristic, the film instead finds itself wallowing amidst schlock horror bargain bin thrillers. For a film hinging on voyeurism, it lacks any sweaty eroticism it clearly yearns for.
In fact, it never really tries hard to be either. It lacks the severity of something like Gone Girl, or the knockabout psychopathy of its protagonist/antagonist, and even Blunt’s character, defined only be her aesthetic of having a perennial cold, seems less infatuated by her old life, more sort of bored by her new one.
As the film comes to a close, it seems to finally get a grip of its exploitation, De Palma-lite ideals, but as it gets a finger on it, it slips, becoming something far duller than it had any right to be. It’s neither over-the-top enough to genuinely shock, or campy to humour, instead, like the previous 90 minutes, it stays vanilla.
Emily Blunt, however impressive, is fundamentally miscast. Under a mountain of make up in order to vaguely resemble someone “normal,” she wrestles with her inner demons more akin to a teenager who recently discovered emo.
The plot, split awkwardly across different time frames and through the eyes of different characters is disjointed and erratic in its plotting. Focus is never maintained on an individual and in doing so, fails to engage. Attempts at red herrings lack subtlety and twists, where appropriate, fuel theories that all follow the same path.
At least it looks great. DP Charlotte Bruus Christensen shoots uncomfortably close, reinforcing Taylor’s (lame) attempts at presenting the audience as voyeurs. Suburbia has never felt so dirty.
The Girl on the Train is never anything more than passable. It’s only ever a vast cavern of the implausible.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Thomas Harris
