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:
Still reeling in the aftermath of her divorce, Rachel (Emily Blunt) takes the train in and out of the city every day, even though she’s no longer working. Her route takes her past the home she shared with her ex: he still lives there, with his new wife and baby. But she’s also fascinated by a neighbouring house, and the couple living there, who seem the epitome of a loving relationship. Then one day she sees something which tells her that they’re not as idyllic as they seem. And, even though she doesn’t know them, she gets involved, without realising the effect it will have on her life, as well as theirs.
It hardly seems five minutes since Emily Blunt was cast in the adaptation of the best-selling The Girl on the Train, a book that was catapulted from the shelves straight onto the movie set. And now we get to see the finished result.
What we get is an intricate, absorbing jigsaw, one that demands you think it through for yourself, so don’t expect any easy answers. The picture starts to become clear after a while but even then the final pieces still manage to hold some surprises, if not one or two genuine shocks. And, to keep us on our toes, the film moves back and forth in time, with the relevant timings captioned on the screen. The near-constant presence of the train in the background underlines the passage of time. Put the two together, and you definitely have to concentrate, but it’s no hardship. You’re soon immersed in the story and trying to work out the truth of Rachel’s situation and everybody else’s as well.
The story is driven by three women, all different characters, damaged in their different ways and linked at the same time, even if they don’t know it. There’s Rachel, unstable and so swallowed up by alcoholism that even AA struggle to help her. Anna (Rebecca Ferguson), now married to Rachel’s ex Tom (Justin Theroux) and over-protective of her young baby, especially when it comes to Rachel. But she believes she has good cause. Number three is Megan (Haley Bennett), one half of the neighbours who live a couple of doors away and whose relationship fascinates Rachel. Director Tate Taylor is familiar with making films with a group of women at the centre – think The Help – so it’s no surprise that the main cop is a woman as well, this time played by the constantly under-rated Allison Janney. A permanent cynic and sceptic about everything she sees and hears, you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.
Blunt makes an excellent Rachel: she looks haggard when she’s had a few drinks – sipper bottles, seemingly filled with water, will never be the same again! – and so unkempt that her lips are crying out to be smothered in balm. You’d think nobody would want to go near her (Blunt talks more about this at the film’s press conference) yet one passenger, anonymously described on the cast list as Man in Suit (Darren Goldstein), does attempt to help her. And much thanks he gets for his efforts. He seems a genuinely decent person – something of a rarity in the film – which makes you wonder about his back story. But it’s only a fleeting moment, because there’s way too much to think about in the main narrative for you to be distracted for long.
After the wide expanses of the Dorset countryside in last year’s Far from the Madding Crowd, this time cinematographer Charlotte Bruus Christensen trains her camera on the urban landscape, but is most effective when focussed on Rachel, especially when she’s at her worst. Hand held sequences underline her mental state, as do the double images of her seen through the train window.
Whether you’ve read the book or not, just go and see it. You’ll puzzle, you’ll think and, as the film builds towards its climax, you’ll realise you’re gripping your seat with tension. Which is exactly what you expect – and what you want – from a good psychological thriller.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Freda Cooper – Follow me on Twitter, check out my movie blog and listen to my podcast Talking Pictures.
Originally published October 3, 2016. Updated November 30, 2022.
