The Girl on the Train opens on a disheveled-looking Emily Blunt, gazing out the window of a train (what else?) while the outskirts of New York pass her by. As protagonist Rachel Watson, Blunt embodies a character type we haven’t seen from her before. She looks decidedly frantic, yet distant, reaching for some sort of human connection while simultaneously dreading the chance to muck it all up.
It is a striking performance, but one that is almost immediately drowned out by a ridiculous overwritten monologue. Delivered via voice-over in whispered tones (a trend that will only continue over the film’s 112 minutes), Rachel reflects on the concept of love, relationships, and the pitfalls of an ‘overactive imagination’ in long, flowing and overwrought terms. It is impossible to shake the feeling of inauthenticity this sequence (and by extension, the entire film) generates.
The setup is promising at least. The Girl on the Train, based on the 2015 best-selling novel by Paula Hawkins, follows Rachel as she tries to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of a young woman named Megan (Haley Bennett). While Rachel searches for clues, she also battles the grief associated with her suave, self-centered ex-husband Tom (Justin Theroux) and his new wife Ana (Rebecca Ferguson). As Rachel’s worsening alcoholism makes her an easy prime suspect for Detective Sgt. Riley (Allison Janney), Megan’s past comes into focus to reveal secrets of her own.
It’s all very mysterious and exciting on paper. But director Tate Taylor can’t lift the material above its inherent pulpiness. Though this should be thrilling stuff, Taylor regularly cripples any sense of urgency with his ineptitude behind the camera. The frame frantically jumps around at an uneasy frequency. The editing cuts from one shot to the next with very little awareness of dramatic flow, and Danny Elfman’s score is unreasonably overwhelming, filling small, tense moments with an unending barrage of ponderous noises.
There is also very little sense that any of this story is of consequence. This lack of importance can partly be blamed on screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson, who throws far too much information at the audience for any of it to really matter. It’s hard to care about a character when we’re knee deep in their suburban drama in less than five minutes.
The film also appears to take place within an insular bubble, cut off from the outside world. According to the credits, there are only nine people who actually contribute to the proceedings, which seems ridiculous considering the film takes place in a New York suburb. Normally the disappearance of a young, beautiful woman would cause some widespread concern within a community. Watching The Girl on the Train suggests the opposite.
And while Blunt is at least interesting to watch, she proves the only capable presence onscreen. Try as they might, Ferguson and Bennett cannot match their co-star. But who can really blame them, when the script forces their characters to recite unintentionally laughable dialogue and forgoes logic to a gradually increasing degree?
This film wants desperately to be better than it really is. But by the time credits roll, it’s easy to ask how anyone could care. It’s hard to do better when the finished product looks and feels like a mishandled, inconsequential television pilot. It intends to thrill, but in the end, only frustrates.
Watch the trailer for The Girl on the Train below: