Entirely gripping: The Lost Daughter reviewed

The Lost Daughter is an adaptation of the Elena Ferrante novel about motherhood that says, quite ferociously: it’s complicated. And: mothers aren’t necessarily motherly, and can feel ambivalence. You’d think it was unfilmable, particularly as the central character describes herself as someone even she doesn’t understand but, directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal — it’s her directorial debut — and starring Olivia Colman, this film is entirely gripping. No ambivalence on that count.

It is carried by Colman who is tremendous, and is being tipped as a potential Oscar winner, if that matters. She is certainly now one of the greats. She is up there with Judi Dench and I do not say that lightly. Both could play a bedside table and somehow bring depth, feeling, an internal landscape. I don’t pretend to know how they do it. I am just grateful for the alchemy. Here, Colman plays Leda, a professor of comparative literature who has come to a Greek island for a semi-working fortnight. Even as she arrives at her rented apartment, with suitcases filled almost solely with books, you understand: this woman is interesting. Best keep my eye on her. In fact, you won’t be able to tear your gaze away.

Aside from a local handyman (Ed Harris) and the boy who works the beach bar (Paul Mescal), who pop up every now and again, she is alone. And in her linen beach cover-ups — some choice items from the White Company definitely stole in amid the books — she enjoys the peace and beauty of the secluded sandy beach. (If you haven’t had a holiday in ages, look away. It’s tormenting.)