One things for certain: Maggie Gyllenhaal understands the importance of unveiling characters that are inscribed like real people, bodies that can give up on a mood mid-sentence, or open themselves up for exposure even if it may lead them to the obvious consequences one would logically want to avoid, or better yet, are capable of feeling virtually nothing while watching others suffer at the fault of themselves even if its just to fill an almost programmed void in them that they don’t even know why it’s precisely there to begin with.
Her directorial debut, The Lost Daughter, sees almost nihilistically, yet in such an honest and preferably confrontational way, the imperfect reality of motherhood as this nagging pushing pin to live a second life of pleasurable adulteries. It’s evil, but in such a human and blunt manner, an approach that’ll very likely off-put condescending cinematic idealists from its absence of a chimerical alteration. Many of us can’t help it sometimes, and that’s just how it is, so suck it up, and watch it play out cause that’s life. Either way, there will always be questionable decisions you make as a parent that can’t help but haunt you in the “after”.
Verdict: B
“The Lost Daughter” is now available to stream on Netflix.
Burning the Celluloid 
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