Eileen
Director William Oldroyd returns after an almost eight-year hiatus from his 2016 critically acclaimed, Florence Pugh breakout feature Lady Macbeth, returning with his adaption of the novel of the same name Eileen, from writer Ottessa Moshfegh. It is a feature that is seemingly simplistic in narrative and thematic on the surface but slowly but surely rubs away to leave a haunting and uncomfortable layer of reality. First and foremost, Oldroyd – choosing from a whole host of potential opportunities – opts for a venture that, thankfully, goes against the sophomore slump, of which many contemporary and peer comparative fall into. Eileen is neither an ego trip nor a commercial derivative bore. It is a perfect combination of a feature that evokes Oldroyd's interest in choosing substance-fueled material while also being commercially accessible. To compare it to contemporary: Tom Ford's sophomore effort Nocturnal Animals, similar not only in tone and theme but in narrative framing and suggestion.
Without saying too much nor prodding a beast in what Oldroyd's film is really about, Eileen is a feature that hides behind a conventional look, narrative and genre. Perfectly resembling its contextual setting of a seemingly ordinary young woman living in a suburban USA and taking part in active society, what hides beneath and inside locked doors and rooms in private is a different identity and reality. Eileen perfectly evokes this very sentiment of hidden reality, not only through its plot but also through the eyes and ears of its central characters. Characters, on the surface, are members of a simple society but in reality, are suffocating with the reality of circumstance – be that gender, sexuality, patriarchy, abuse, etc. This is where Oldroyd puts the audience within the perspective of Thomasin McKenzie's titualr character Eileen who is suffering from that very descriptive mentioned above, be it her overbearing and suffocating father (Shea Whigham), the sexual fascination of inmate Leo Polk (Sam Nivola), and provocative saviour and esteemed ideal of Rebecca St. John (Anne Hathaway). Now, where writers Luke Goebel and Moshfegh take this should be left for a viewing experience in order to receive maximum surprise and effect. Nevertheless, the thesis of what Eileen takes and how it elevates the convention of what is becoming the archetype of the likes of the repressed lesbian drama in Carol, Ammonite and The World to Come, Eileen takes the conventions of said contemporaries and changes the mainstream perspective and expectation. Granted, on the surface, Eileen is a feature that plays into the classic tale of the archetype of sexual and patriarchal oppression – particularly, in plot and emotive inevitable devastation – and plays with the notion of expectation and perspective with terrifically engaging and aloof framing. Not only contextually in the plot but through the latter of characters framing of events in their perspective of reality and truth which has been seeded to the viewer as a certain truth without a lingering question provided of: is it?
With that approach, interestingly, Eileen is a feature that plays very surface level and works just as well. Yet, it hides its true feelings, thoughts and reality under a blanket of narrative and conventional safety akin to what Eileen herself does within the story. It is this ideal of 4D chess that evokes a wonderful sense of rewatchability but a further discourse that genuinely creates a refreshing and rewarding viewing of immersive plotting and framing. Oldroyd achieves this with editor Nick Emerson, who implements small cuts and snippets of terrifying levels of violence involving Eileen as well as sensual and sexual exploitation of body and sexual infatuation of others within her perspective that pull the viewer out of this world and plunge them back into the ordinary in a matter of seconds. It feels at first a striking and strange approach but when the true thesis is unravelled by Eileen's end, it becomes so apparent how well textured and applicable said scenes are to slowly but surely speak volumes on mental health and perspective framing to clear the conscience of the titular character. The cinematic techniques are one thing but it is the parts that play around said techniques that work exceptionally well. Small but integral parts, and the most simple on the-surface performance like pawns on a chessboard, work wonderfully well to reiterate the eventual thesis and angle that Oldroyd and Ottessa Moshfegh are aiming to evoke. The three primary performances of McKenzie, Hathaway and Whigham are outstanding and arguably perfect. McKenzie is an actress who is slowly breaking away from a certain audience perspective of playing a certain discourse of character in critically welcomed films with resulting critically welcomed performances in the likes of Leave No Trace, Old, and Jojo Rabbit, always playing the quiet, stoic performance. Her performance in and as Eileen is not necessarily a differing performance but it feels the next step in her evolution as an actress to showcase she can evoke and explore incredibly dark and multifaceted performances with the same critical and engaging results aforementioned. McKenzie has a lot to do here under the surface, not only does she have to intoxicate the audience with her narrative but equally craft a character of repression and internal destruction with a straight-laced externalisation, accomplishing a terrific outcome.
Whigham, as usual, puts forward a compelling and efficient performance but even then heightens a villain role with some of the most razor-sharp and hurtful dialogue a viewer will witness, and the fact he chooses to state such without raising his voice and saying said vile instruments of insipid destruction in a manner that someone would say to a loved-one at the dinner table not only reinforces just how exquisite his devilish turn is but furthers the certain thematics and drowning of Eileen throughout the feature. Then it comes to Hathaway, who interestingly could be said the thesis of this feature rests on achieving what it truly wants to say with its substance. Hathaway, at first, is surprisingly underused in this venture with only two scenes of note before a rather impacting finale. It at first seems an oversight, but Luke Goebel and Moshfegh purposefully curate said character in certain lights, and perspectives and use them to frame this thesis which has been alluded to throughout this review. Hathaway's Rebecca is the domino which is knocked over which results in events happening in this feature and gives purpose and reasoning to Eileen and her choices throughout this story. It is such an integral role, as it has layer itself and maximises themes and undercurrents with very little running time but Hathaway approaches this and utterly nails the intoxication of this character in external sensual and sexual prowess as well as internal verbal quandering of social matters. Now where this gets even more interesting and enthralling is that throughout Eileen's perspective, certain depictions of violence and infatuation of events, what is it say that Rebecca is real? Food for thought and a factor that recontextualises and implies a drastic differing perspective on its ending and character choices.
Oldroyd's Eileen is almost Lynchian in approach, albeit a very thin comparison to Lynch's unravelling obsession with middle America in Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, or even Mullholand Drive. The idea is similar, but Oldroyd chooses to further elevate this world by filling the screen with an incredibly large image that intoxicates and suffocates not only the characters but the audiences themselves. The choice of faux grain on the image looks marvellous but even reiterates the multifaceted approach of the film itself in that it is manufactured. These are all simple yet effective clues to what Oldroyd and Eileen are doing and wanting to say. Ultimately creating a terrifically multifaceted and abstract approach in the film that questions itself but the audience’s input and perspective of events on what is truth and what is escape. The only worry is that it might be another seven years for Oldroyd to dazzle behind the camera once again.
