THE STORY – Ben and Anette’s young daughter lands a co-starring role alongside a glamorous movie star. However, when Anette suspects that Ben has become infatuated with the actress, secrets and lies threaten to come to the surface and destroy them all.
THE CAST – Daisy Ridley, Shazad Latif & Matilda Lutz
THE TEAM – Sam Yates (Director) & Tom Bateman (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 90 Minutes
In Sam Yates’s feature directorial debut “Magpie,” not only do marital secrets come to light, but more intriguingly, the isolated rage of a self-sacrificing mother. Grief, anger, and lost identity are still considered taboo subjects in the context of motherhood. “Magpie” makes space for upfront conversations about the messiness of this experience, which comes with suffocating expectations to emulate the “perfect” mother and wife under a patriarchal gaze. The enticing hook of “Magpie” is how it unleashes the grieving underbelly of a woman’s experience — from losing her sense of self to missing out on career opportunities to feeling left out in social circles, she is on the verge of not just a breakdown but a breakthrough. The film blurs lines between gothic and film noir, where the protagonist takes on the role of both femme fatale and naïveté, finding a metamorphosis into her own power. Much like the protagonist, “Magpie” sits quietly with compressed emotion until a thrilling catharsis rushes into the picture.
Written and produced by Tom Bateman and based on an original idea by Daisy Ridley, the film paints a tense portrait of a relationship from the first frame. Anette (Ridley) and Ben (Shazad Latif) are married with two children. Their eldest, Matilda (Hiba Ahmed), whom they call “Tilly” for short, is cast in a movie alongside Italian star Alicia Romano (Matilda Lutz). Ben calls dibs on driving Tilly to set every day, partly to avoid staying home with a newborn. He shows such little regard for Anette that he rushes out the door on a day he knows is important for her. She has a meeting with a former employer, with the intention of asking about a job opportunity, and is forced to bring her newborn with her. Anette finds herself trapped in a life she no longer recognizes, and that sense of unfamiliarity fills her English countryside home with palpable discomfort. Meanwhile, in addition to dodging a fair share of family responsibility, Ben yearns for time to fulfill his sudden infatuation with Alicia. As his feelings and Anette’s suspicions simultaneously escalate, the cracks in their marriage reach irreversible damage.
The story unravels as though Anette has just woken up from a spell. She senses something is wrong in her marriage, and the writing smartly takes time to unveil her thought process. We get glimpses into her uneasiness, from breaking mirrors to smashing cellphones, shattering an image of surface-level tranquility. In the remoteness of her home, Anette’s emotions intensify. She tries to connect with Ben, but his impatience cuts her short. The film jumps between both characters’ perspectives with a neat level of detail that highlights two totally different realities.
In Ben’s view, Anette is sick of him being home and is not the same person she used to be. He talks about her as though she’s an object he doesn’t know what to do with, failing to realize the power of her own autonomy. From Anette’s perspective, the years of betrayal Ben had inflicted upon her have now manifested into unspoken violence. This is the compressed emotion “Magpie” sits in. How do you communicate your loss of self with your partner without a safe space to do so? Every moment of stillness is one of inner strength, building to a finale so startling in execution and potent in thematic resonance. On top of societal gender roles, we live in a world where women are conditioned to express their rage peacefully, to not make a fuss or draw attention. Anette’s characterization is a compelling depiction of how often women compress their anger and frustration to fulfill societal expectations.
Tom Bateman’s adventurous writing effectively balances characters’ blurred intentions and carefully plotted motivations. With an ironical tone and a layered narrative buildup, the story crafts a steady momentum that wills you to anticipate the next moves and question perspectives. Having the central conflict come from Anette’s observations — watching Ben mentally check out of their relationship — makes for a satisfying chamber piece. As she resiliently navigates her next course of action, the psychological tension grows. The film plays ambitiously with viewpoints to establish how characters can have different realities from a shared experiences. Bateman also makes great use of the contemporary setting. In a world so reliant on digital communication, where couples often present a curated version of their relationships, authentic expression gets lost in the shuffle. Feelings play out from a filtered lens, which further emphasizes the distortion of perspectives in this story.
Adding to the intrigue, the original seed of “Magpie” comes from producer and star Daisy Ridley, who brings tremendous awareness to her surroundings as an isolated character. Ridley’s performance nails the tone and evokes a mystic energy throughout. From enigmatic expressions to biting line deliveries (“You’d think they’d recognize a well-known author when they saw one,” a satisfying and scorching humiliation of Ben), she goes deep into Anette’s frame of mind. As a result, we get terrific little discoveries along the way, each one illuminating her journey into a full reclamation of agency. All of the actors impress in this film. Shazad Latif excels at conveying Ben’s egotistical, gaslighting personality. While the character can sometimes be a little on the nose, Latif brings out subtle and convincing layers of a self-absorbed partner. The great Matilda Lutz also makes a lasting impact in an elusive movie star role. Lutz’s screen presence perfectly fits the character, and her subtle approaches draw out shades of humanity. Alicia is a refreshing deviation from the “other woman” villainous trope.
Sam Yates brings a fitting atmospheric direction to the ambitious narrative of “Magpie.” He finds a sweet spot between a strained relationship drama and a sleek genre film, with a neat incorporation of ominous horror-esque elements (take the symbolic bird hitting Anette’s window or the overall secluded landscape of Anette’s home). The gothic setting, which works to trap the protagonist on multiple levels, adds remoteness and underlines her emotional isolation. Yates also sets the bar for a very evocative visual language throughout. Amanda McArthur’s glossy production design makes smart use of mirrors to shatter character reflections and play with your expectations of them. Laura Bellingham’s cinematography and Natalie Roar’s costume design balance the phantasmal modernity of Anette’s house with the gothic 18th century “Eleanor” movie set that Tilly and Alicia work on. Isobel Waller-Bridge’s score heightens the wry tone, as do an eclectic set of needle drops and intriguing plays on sound. One of the film’s most effective fusions of sound and setting happens early on when Anette temporarily escapes from her crying newborn by running out the front door and onto open land. The baby’s cries begin to crackle through the baby monitor as Anette loses signal. This is one of many neat examples of the film’s confident visual style.
While the film oddly loses some precision in the final act, which hits you like a freight train, the story is so confidently told that this feels like an incredibly minor lapse in the bigger picture. There’s an admirable ambition in holding onto narrative tricks for as long as possible. From the atmospheric direction and enigmatic writing to the stellar performances all around, “Magpie” is a sharp thriller with plenty of satisfying seeds planted along the way.
