The Girl on the Train

Directed By: Tate TaylorWritten By: Erin Crissida Watson (based on the novel The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins)Starring: Emily Blunt, Rebecca Ferguson, Haley Bennett, Justin Theroux, Luke Evans

There are ample alley

s for our minds to walk when watching The Girl on the Train. Director Tate Taylor and writer Erin Crissida Watson dig deep into their frayed, chilly world and find plenty of worthwhile subtext. Together they delve into the poisons of vicarious living and the torment of one’s personal struggle for purpose, but the film also has mystery, fine performances and an immersive wintery look which numbs your skin. The trouble is, the film’s never able to find a home for our sympathies.

The characters in this film are each emotionally damaged beyond recognition, so much so that it becomes impossible to  follow their plight. If you’re in this movie, the chances are you’re a knowingly unstable alcoholic/whore with little self-respect; a depraved, abusive, misogynistic adulterer; or a red herring.

There are two films The Girl on the Train calls to mind. The first is David Fincher’s adapted thriller from 2014, Gone Girl. The evocation here stems from the basic setup; a missing person mystery contained within a web of marital deceit and fractured relationships. Our titular character is a self-destructive alcoholic named Rachel (Emily Blunt), whose days since losing her job to alcoholism consist of bouncing between the suburbs and Manhatten on destinationless commutes, drunkenly blacking out, and fixating on a young blonde named Megan (Haley Bennett,) who regularly catches her eye through the train’s windows. Rachel likes to project her fantasy life on what she presumes is Megan’s idyllic existence. Behind closed doors however, anything but the subject of fantasy is Megan’s life. She’s tethered to an abusive boyfriend (Luke Evans), and she’s harbouring deep seeded pain not unlike that of Rachel herself.

Just a couple of doors down you’ll find Rachel’s old house. It’s still occupied by her ex-husband Tom (Justin Theroux), who now lives with the “other” woman from their marriage. Her name’s Anna (Rebecca Ferguson), and along with Megan she grants us the occasional respite from Rachel’s dreary narration. Rachel fixates on this house too, her failed marriage enacting an emotional cancer as she laments her lost opportunity at a family.

When Megan goes missing, presumed dead, Rachel’s voyeurism and drunkenness become the eventual focal points of the mystery. Our eponymous figure can’t even rule herself out, with her memory as patchy as the drink has rendered it.

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he other film that comes to mind is Paul Newman’s Rachel, Rachel from 1968 (perhaps an allusion hinted in the name?) Similarly, it’s a film which does a terrific job of viscerally plunging us into a troubled mind, but one whose central character never makes for compelling company. Like The Girl on the Train, Newman’s Best Picture nominee wallows in the vulnerabilities of his protagonist to the point of exploitation; both characters risk becoming nothing more than receptacles for weakness. Blunt’s turn as the frail Rachel is powerful to a degree. She fully inhabits her character, you can smell the vodka on her breath and her internal anguish is palpable, but the suffering she’s forced to endure becomes superfluous. The film is so melodramatically restless that you find yourself clamouring for the panache or odd strain of sardonic humour that gave Fincher’s thriller such an exhilarating vibe. We need something to offset the portent. It never comes.

It’s not until the final twenty minutes that The Girl on the Train comes to life. The pieces start to form a coherent whole, if not a slightly predictable one, and the characters for the first time escape their traction. It’s not surprising then that this is where we finally feel a sense of urgency, that something may be at stake, and Taylor wrings a solid amount of tension from it. Bur for too long we’ve cared too little. Troubled characters are often the most alluring in movies. Here, our noses are rubbed in their pitifulness to the point of apathy.

Rating:

2/4