Films > Film Reviews
The Girl On The Train
Cinema City
05/10/16
The Girl on the Train is a melodramatic mystery thriller set in a surreally fantastical world of middle class motherhood, casual psychotherapy and afternoon affairs. A place where working is optional, friendship is skin deep, and money apparently grows on trees. Basically, it’s bullshit. Thoroughly enjoyable bullshit though, as all the best entertainment is. This feels like a larger budget ‘true life’ movie on one of those channels that no one ever watches on purpose, that have movies with titles such as ‘My dad is in my bed, and my baby’s in the well’, ‘Sex, babysitters, and murderous neighbours’, or ‘I accidentally adopted a serial killer’.
So, what’s the premise? Well, Rachel (the girl) is a boozy mess, all smeared makeup and secret/not so secret vodka. She spends her days travelling to nowhere (on the train), fantasising about strangers and spying on her ex-husband’s new family whose big, posh house she passes twice a day whilst she pretend goes to work. She is fascinated by the lives she spies on, just as we are fascinated by spying on her as she does so (ooh, there’s something in that. If this was an essay I’d be all over it before you could say “parallels”). But who is she spying on? Well, there’s this couple called Megan and Scott that seem to happily live out their sex life in full view of the train, be it on their balcony or through their handily well-lit patio doors, and she loves a bit of the Megan and Scott show twice a day. It certainly takes her mind off her ex-husband Tom and his new wife Anna, who live a couple of doors down from the others and, again, spend a ridiculously unrealistic amount of time doing stuff in full view of the train. Everything is fine (well, not fine, but no one is dead yet) until she spots Megan with another man looking all ‘handsy’ on the balcony. This sets her right off, and she staggers off the train like 8 Ace from Viz, stammering about how this complete stranger is a bit of a whore (yay sisterhood). Next thing you know, Megan is missing, and Rachel is waking up like an 18 year old girl on her first morning in Magaluf. She’s covered in blood, sick, and a little bit of piss, with fragmented memories of what happened the night before. Cue the start of the usual who-did-what-to-who kind of thing, but this time with added “was it me? Shit - did I do that?”
It’s this unreliable narration that is the film’s strength and, simultaneously, its weakness. We learn of the history around the other characters (her ex, etc) from Rachel’s POV, and as she’s a bit of a lush, it’s a viewpoint full of self-loathing, personal blame, and abuse (both self and otherwise). This narrative device works well, as she starts to distrust even her own memories, and begins to piece together the truth. It’s the bits where it tries to do a Gone Girl and switch the narration between characters that feels forced, unnecessary and heavy handed, backing up the narrative change with ludicrously extreme close ups and flashbacks that only come after the facts and serve no purpose other than to prop up a thin stylistic veil that seems to be constantly attempting to elevate the movie into a territory that, not only does it not deserve, but doesn’t need.
Other than that, the plot is nicely twisty, well-paced, and gripping. The acting is great and, like a luvvie in a panto, all involved seem to relish their overly dramatic roles - In particular the villain of the piece, once they are revealed. I won’t say who did it, but I will say that I guessed it correctly, obvs. Not too soon though, and I nearly changed my mind, but the bottom line is that I was right. And it felt good. Not quite drunk on a train good, but good nonetheless. Give it a look if you like your booze early, your sex voyeuristic, and your lifestyle unachievable.
7/10