Review: There's so much to find in the breathtaking Lucy Lost

When we first meet Lucy, the young heroine of the tremendous Lucy Lost, we immediately see that there's something special about her. It's a moonlit night, and she walks along the moors as if in a trance (per her family, she's sleepwalking). Her hands lightly brush the flowers as she moves past. In the sky above her, ghostly figures float and twirl, larger than life. You understand that only she can see them, as if she has some sort of connection to another plane of existence, some spiritual realm.

The citizens of her small town in the Isles of Scilly, an archipelago off the southwestern coast of England, also notice how different Lucy is. Her stark white hair makes her stand out, as does her mysterious past. She doesn't remember much, but her family tells her that she had a nasty accident which led to her being unable to walk or speak. These days, she's doing much better, but she's still plagued by visions. The townspeople think she's bad luck. The kids in town think she's a witch. It's the height of World War I, so everyone is on edge, distrustful, quick to point an accusatory finger in the hopes of finding an enemy. It's downright patriotic, innit?

At first glance, Lucy Lost, which is based on Michael Morpugo's 2014 novel Listen to the Moon, is a fairly straight-on film about feeling like an outsider in the midst of wartime. It's an anti-war film, a coming-of-age film, and so much more. Even if it didn't eventually go to more interesting places (more on that shortly), it would be a sturdy and stirring work. Lucy's place in the town, the way everyone around her has to take a position one way or another, reveals the ugly lack of humanity that often bubbles to the surface in the face of war. We see very little of the action, save a long dogfight playing out in the skies above the town. But we see the ripple effects in the way Lucy's neighbors treat and talk about her, how eager they are to tear her down. In their conversations about "the enemy," there's an utter lack of recognition that those enemies are also human beings, with families and friends and hopes, people doing what they think is right, serving just as those on "the right side" are. 

But there's more going on in Lucy Lost than this strange little girl revealing humanity's eagerness to hate, and the way that that hate and xenophobia are passed down through the generations. Lucy desperately wants to go to school with her brother Alfie, but has to get the doctor's stamp of approval. In the meantime, she lives a fairly lonely life, traipsing around the island on her own, trying to stay out of sight, lest she get more hatred hurled her way.

One day, she bumps into a little girl with long black tresses and a big red bow atop her head. She's one of Lucy's visions -- no one else can see her -- but she's unique in that she talks to Lucy, whereas all the other phantoms are silent. She becomes something of an imaginary friend to Lucy, but she insists she's anything but. Her name is Milly. She lives in New York with her mom. Her dad is fighting overseas in the same war, against the same enemy. She becomes a confidante to Lucy, and a distraction. As Lucy tries to ease into something resembling a normal life, Milly makes is hard. She's loud, brassy, wild, and always wants Lucy's full attention, often during inopportune times (say, during a doctor's appointment or at school).

The mysterious connection between these girls feels like one of those things you just have to go with, a "gimme" for the film, a willing suspension of disbelief. Sure, the rest of the movie is quite grounded, but this one thing can be a little magical. That's fine and well. But, no, Lucy Lost ends up weaving its various mysterious elements together so masterfully, so beautifully, so surprisingly. Big "they gave me all the clues" energy, but I was gobsmacked.

And impossibly moved. The places the story goes in its final act are so emotional, and genuinely shocking. I was full-on ugly crying through the masterful climactic sequence, when all the pieces click into place, every bread crumb dropped along the way picked up and placed back into a most satisfying loaf (is that a thing?). 

And, to top it all off, this movie is gorgeous. It has fantastic hand-drawn art that feels so alive. The way the characters move is super expressive, the details in their facial expressions, the energy. It's wonderful, and vaguely anime-esque. Combined with the anti-war messaging, the young protagonists, and the fantastical elements, Lucy Lost is maybe the closest thing we've got to a new Studio Ghibli movie this year.

While plenty of movies hone in on the horrible effects of war, the struggles of coming-of-age, or a combination of the two, the way Lucy Lost approaches and mixes these ingredients is a brilliant bit of alchemy. It feels familiar in some ways while also making some bold storytelling choices, and the result is an emotional powerhouse of a movie that left me reeling.

Lucy Lost is starting its theatrical rollout over seas at the moment (including France, Belgium, Morocco, Tunisia, and Switzerland), and I hope (and expect), it'll find its way to many more markets in the months to come.