Hailed as the next Gone Girl (2014) in the vein of introspective spectacles, this thriller begged to be adapted the moment the words were typed across the page. I read the novel in less than a month, ironically during my commutes to Brooklyn for school every morning and afternoon, and I did so with great anticipation for the film. Its cinematic potential is apparent from page one. If Hitchcock was around at the time of this book's publishing, I have no doubt he would've acquired the rights to it quickly. The material is voyeuristic in a vibrant and titillating fashion, seen through the eyes of three female characters that are questionably likable, but constantly compelling. However, The Girl On the Train (2016) doesn't live up to its source material the same way Gone Girl had, but it doesn't fail in engaging audiences attention and raising those marital and relationship questions that the latter threw at filmgoers with great tenacity.
Written by author Paula Hawkins and adapted to film by screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson, The Girl On The Train tells the story of three women, Rachel, Anna and Meagan. Rachel is an infertile alcoholic who commutes every day to a job she's lost months prior, all the while reeling over the husband that cheated and left her in her time of need. Anna is Tom's (Rachel's ex), new wife and former mistress. Anna is additionally the mother to Tom's infant daughter Evie. Their neighbor and former nanny Meagan hides many secrets behind her guise as the sweet and perfect wife to the handsome Scott Hipwell. Rachel enjoys watching Meagan and Scott's seemingly blissful existence from the train window every morning, even though she knows nothing about who they actually are. One day, however, Rachel sees Meagan in an apparent act of infidelity and though initially enraged she quickly becomes paranoid when Meagan goes missing a few days later.
While the alternating POV flows quite seamlessly in the book, it becomes a bit messy and jarring at points in the film. Those who have not read the book may have trouble keeping up with when each scene is set within the overall narrative. Some could argue this confusion is almost befitting of a film with a deeply troubled alcoholic protagonist. Emily Blunt plays Rachel Watson with much vigor and charisma. Her drunken stupors appear real and non-stylized or choreographed. Her skin is blotchy, and her eyes dilated. However, the script lacks the complexities within the character to allow her to rise to the surface as she does in the novel. Blunt ends up coming short in substance, not because of lack of acting ability, but rather a deficiency in the material. Rachel's spiral into alcoholism and her struggles with infertility are glossed over in the film, depriving Blunt of key character-building moments. Even her obsession with this fantasy couple she sees from her train window is addressed hastily with little thought or consideration. We do not connect with Rachel's fantasy because we aren't given the time. I do, however, applaud her and the filmmakers for successfully creating a lead female character that is not a cardboard cutout of female hysteria or a damsel in distress cliché. More works of fiction should have the vision to portray real women with real problems, without demonizing or dehumanizing them in the process. Anna can be a catty shrew, Meagan a perverse, careless harlot and Rachel a rude, paranoid lush, but they are not defined by these character types and they all have opportunities within the script to transcend their transgressions. In some way throughout, they all do. Women are not perfect, they are flawed and conflicted, but they have a tremendous capacity to rise above these issues of humanity, and in many cases, they do so better than most men. The Girl On The Train is progressively feminist because it doesn't empower women with false prophets of perfection; it humanizes them with honest representations of various versions of the modern female. Housewife, Caretaker, Commuter, all different and yet so alike in many ways as the film details. The film, in fact, ends with a strange nod to the unbreakable bond of womanhood and the explosive power of secrets in female relationships.
The film makes a strange choice to alter its setting from Europe to America, and it seems the only reason for this was because it wanted to cast American actors as opposed to primarily English ones. While it may not make much change to the story, it seems uncomfortably xenophobic to be quite honest. I mean did they really believe they'd lose audiences if they set the film abroad? It's not as if there was a language barrier to be concerned over! Anyway, I digress, let's acknowledge one of the films few accomplishments, its ability to translate crucial information from the text into competent visual storytelling on the screen. Lisa Kudrow's character, Martha, is the ideal example of this. While not present in the novel, Kudrow's role is used to allow Rachel's internal deductions to become externally visualized with extremely useful dramatic effect. They bring novice creativity to the flashback format traditionally found in such thrillers. Though only in three scenes, Martha's addition to the plot displays the positive narrative contributions that can accompany a novel translated to film. These additions enriched the plot, as opposed to watering it down.
The Girl on The Train will likely be derided by many as contrived and convoluted, but I believe it to be an admirable effort of filmmaking at a time when thrillers are a dime a dozen, but so is unoriginality and banality. The Girl on The Train really only has one key thing in common with Gone Girl, they both have something interesting to say. How well they say it is debatable, though the consensus would likely agree the latter get's the message through with greater efficiency. The former has a habit of getting too caught up in nonsense to get its points across properly. Why do I need close-ups of Meagan's crotch region while she's having a therapy session? If Gone Girl was about lies and deceit within marital relationships, The Girl on the Train is about truths and the urgent need to make them known. Rachel must discover the truth in herself, Meagan must reveal a terrible truth about her past, and Anna must accept the truths of her life. The film is about discovery, but thrillers are judged by how well they construct obstacles around that discovery, which audiences must themselves navigate through. In a thriller, a protagonist is like a mouse in a maze, and in this particular film, the drunken mouse can't seem to make their way through to find a suitable exit convincingly. In the end, The Girl on Train doesn't completely derail from arriving at an entertaining piece of cinema. Still, its crowded cars and delays disallow it from being the truly exhilarating cinematic venture the source material calls to be. Some trains just take too long to get into the station.
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