Pieces of a broken life

It was like watching pieces of a puzzle slowly fit together through carefully articulated scenes and ending in a violent, abrupt way you don’t see coming.

I felt like I was on the train with Emily Blunt in the film The Girl on the Train, directed by Tate Taylor.

Blunt’s dark eyes, cracked lips and disfigured demeanour cast a spell of concern over me grabbing my attention from the start.

Her character Rachel Watson becomes obsessed with her past and this shapes the rest of the film and motivates her character to uncover the truth.

Flashbacks act as pieces of the puzzle to put the storyline together, which portray Watson’s disarray as a result of her ex-husband Tom, played by Justin Theroux.

Charlotte Bruus Christensen’s rollercoaster cinematography complements the unfolding narrative, keeping the viewer in suspense with thriller music from American singer-songwriter Danny Elfman.

The film has an underlying message about domestic violence and mental abuse framed through the eyes of the victim.

We see Watson’s neurotic behaviour begin when she rides the Hudson line into the city every day, acting as if she has a full-time job and a purpose to catch the exact same line every day, however she has other motivations.

The line passes by where Watson used to live and where her ex-husband still lives with his new wife and baby.

She slowly becomes more and more obsessed with the residents in the area, until she sees something that sends her into a rage.

The heroic feminist characters Megan Hipwell (Haley Bennett) and Anna Watson (Rebecca Ferguson), who is her ex-husband’s new wife are central links to the narrative, each sharing similar experiences at the centre of different forms of abuse.

Through circumstances which unfold, Watson starts to realise how her perception has been warped and she gets revenge.

“I’m not the girl I use to be,” is the dialogue used to tie Watson’s life to a new chapter after she has achieved the unthinkable.

The Girl on the Train

Rated: R

Review: Chloerissa Eadie

Rating: 8/10