Eileen – first-look review | Little White Lies

Festivals

Eileen – first-look review

27 Jan 2023

Words by Hannah Strong

Two women in red and black outfits conversing, with a man in the background.
Two women in red and black outfits conversing, with a man in the background.
Thomasin McKen­zie plays a repressed prison work­er who becomes infat­u­at­ed with a female col­league in William Oldroy­d’s take on Ottes­sa Mosh­fegh’s novel.

William Oldroyd’s sear­ing 2016 peri­od dra­ma Lady Mac­beth was a thorny tale of female repres­sion and desire that made a star out of its lead­ing lady Flo­rence Pugh – it’s been a long wait for his fol­low-up, which arrives in the form of an adap­ta­tion of Ottes­sa Moshfegh’s nov­el Eileen.

Sim­i­lar­ly the nar­ra­tive plays with an awk­ward young woman exist­ing under the bootheel of the patri­archy, whose life is upend­ed by a whirl­wind love affair with dis­as­trous results – in this case, the woman is Eileen (Thomasin McKen­zie) who works at a prison in 1960s Boston, liv­ing with her unpleas­ant, alco­holic father who con­stant­ly berates Eileen, com­par­ing her to her old­er sis­ter and her deceased moth­er. She strug­gles to form con­nec­tions with her col­leagues, until the glam­orous Rebec­ca (Anne Hath­away) takes up a posi­tion as the prison psy­chol­o­gist. Instant­ly infat­u­at­ed, Eileen begins to spend time with Rebec­ca, who encour­ages her out of her shell and takes her dancing.

Eileen owes much to Todd Haynes’ Car­ol spir­i­tu­al­ly, though adopts a more but­toned-up tone with lit­tle of the latter’s erot­ic charge (Eileen is a com­pul­sive mas­tur­ba­tor, and while this might seem edgy in the con­text of the 1960s set­ting, it’s not as inter­est­ing as the film seems to think it is). This could, in part, be down to the cast­ing – McKen­zie is uncon­vinc­ing as Eileen, nev­er man­ag­ing to cre­ate the spark of devi­ous­ness her char­ac­ter pur­ports to have, while Hath­away is beau­ti­ful but for­get­table as Rebec­ca, her per­for­mance too breezy and open to give the impres­sion she’s keep­ing dark secrets.

The abrupt end­ing – while lift­ed from the book – also feels dis­ap­point­ing and con­fus­ing, lack­ing Eileen’s nar­ra­tion which at least gave it con­text on the page. While the film attempts to be a twist­ed take on female lib­er­a­tion, it feels instead unend­ing­ly somber and unsat­is­fy­ing, save for a bleak mono­logue deliv­ered by sup­port­ing play­er Marin Ire­land which briefly seems to hint towards a more inter­est­ing film. It’s a dis­ap­point­ment as Oldroyd is clear­ly a gift­ed film­mak­er, but Eileen does noth­ing that Lady Mac­beth didn’t do bet­ter, some sev­en years ago.

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