‘Magpie’ Review – A Delicate Dance Of Desire And Despair

In his directorial debut, Magpie, Sam Yates unveils a quietly intoxicating tale of unraveling desire and suffocating isolation. Working with a script by Tom Bateman, Yates delicately weaves a web of tension that grows tighter with every scene, transforming a seemingly simple story of marital discontent into something far more sinister. At the heart of this brooding drama are Anette (Daisy Ridley) and Ben (Shazad Latif), a couple whose crumbling relationship plays out against the backdrop of an eerily isolated countryside home.

From the outset, the film establishes an unsettling mood. The silence between Anette and Ben is deafening, the emotional distance between them almost a physical presence in the room. Ben, once a celebrated writer, now flounders in a state of perpetual disappointment, his grand ambitions reduced to bitter self-pity. Meanwhile, Anette drifts through her days, trapped in a domestic routine that leaves her increasingly disconnected from the world around her. Ridley, in a performance that radiates quiet devastation, captures the aching void of Anette’s existence, where her every movement feels weighted with unspoken grief.

Ridley’s portrayal is a study in restraint. She barely needs words to communicate the depths of her character’s internal turmoil; instead, her emotions bleed through in the smallest of gestures—the tight set of her jaw, the distant look in her eyes. Anette is a woman slowly unraveling, her desires and frustrations building to a fever pitch that simmers beneath her otherwise placid exterior. It’s this delicate balance between control and chaos that makes Ridley’s performance so magnetic, each glance and silence charged with emotional weight.

The arrival of Alicia (Matilda Lutz), a disgraced actress with a scandalous past, acts as the match to Annette’s already smoldering fire. Ben’s fascination with Alicia is immediate, his gaze lingering on her with a hunger that Anette feels but can’t fully understand. Alicia, with her alluring presence and air of danger, becomes the focal point of both Ben’s desire and Anette’s increasing sense of unease. As Ben grows more entranced by Alicia’s mystique, the cracks in his marriage widen, pushing Anette toward the edge of her sanity.

Yates masterfully handles the film’s slow-burn pacing, allowing the tension to build gradually, almost imperceptibly, until it becomes unbearable. He creates an atmosphere that pulses with quiet menace, where every glance and pause holds the potential for explosive revelations. It’s in the spaces between dialogue, in the charged silences and stolen looks, that the real drama unfolds. The camera lingers just a moment too long on a hand brushing against a shoulder, on eyes that meet and quickly look away, building a palpable sense of discomfort.

Magpie thrives on this delicate interplay between its characters. Ben, with his detached cruelty and wounded pride, becomes both the villain and the victim of his own dissatisfaction. Latif brings a brooding intensity to the role, making Ben a figure both repellent and pitiable. His indifference toward Anette is like a slow poison, and as his attentions turn toward Alicia, the emotional distance between him and his wife grows into a chasm. However, this portrayal of Ben as both flawed and sympathetic occasionally leads to a lack of clarity regarding his motivations, leaving some viewers yearning for a deeper exploration of his character.

The film’s climax is a masterstroke of restrained storytelling. Yates doesn’t rely on grand gestures or dramatic confrontations. Instead, the unraveling comes in moments of quiet devastation, in the realization that the love between Ben and Anette is beyond repair. The final act is an exercise in control, as the film draws its audience into the depths of Anette’s disintegration, leaving us breathless with the tension of waiting for the inevitable breakdown. Yet, some may find the pacing slow, with a longing for a more dynamic resolution that addresses the complexities of the characters’ relationships more directly.

Daisy Ridley, in perhaps her finest role to date, imbues Anette with a fragility that feels dangerous, as though her emotional state is constantly on the verge of collapse. Yet, there’s a steeliness beneath that fragility—a woman clinging to the last shreds of her dignity even as everything she once knew falls apart. Her chemistry with Latif is electric, their scenes together brimming with unspoken resentments and unfulfilled desires.

Magpie weaves a seductive, slow-burning tale of love turning sour, as a marriage slowly unravels under the pressure of secrets and unmet expectations. Yates directs with both elegance and a sharp edge, creating a film that lingers like a haunting memory. As the credits roll, the film leaves you unsettled, its psychological depths quietly demanding further thought and reflection. Overall, while the film’s pacing may test some viewers’ patience, its emotional intricacies and character-driven narrative make it a compelling exploration of the fragility of love and identity.

Magpie will open in select theaters on October 25, 2024, courtesy of Shout! Studios.