In December of 2021, Netflix released Maggie Gyllenhaal’s adaptation of the 2006 novel ‘The Lost Daughter’ by Elena Ferrante. In her feature directorial debut, Gyllenhaal uses the story of ‘The Lost Daughter’ to expose a veiled facet of womanhood that has yet to be as intimately explored in Hollywood. The story focuses on college professor Lena Caruso (Olivia Colman), who goes to Greece for a vacation where she meets Nina (Dakota Johnson), a young mother with a three-year-old daughter named Elena, triggering memories of Lena’s early years of being a young mother (Jessie Buckley) herself, with two daughters. Both nominated for their performances of the same character at the upcoming Academy Awards, Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley as Lena create an intimately complex portrait of a woman who is often misunderstood and tabooed in our society.

The Lost Daughter follows two separate storylines of its protagonist with a gap age of twenty years. Older Lena, played by Colman, is on vacation on her own, placing her in a default position as an observer to everyone else around her. She is both independent but also vulnerable as she is forced to confront the feelings she experiences upon meeting Nina and her family. The presence of Nina’s family on the beach is hard to ignore, considering they take up almost the entire cove, and the family’s matriarch, Callie (Dagmara Dominczyk), makes them and herself known upon their arrival by both being loud and visibly pregnant. Nina is a young mother, and Callie, an expectant mother with her first child, is of intrigue to Lena but for very different reasons. Callie’s heavy hand in helping Nina with Elena bothers her, especially because Callie is in her early forties and still hasn’t experienced mothering her own child, making it impossible for her to empathize with Nina as a young mother. Lena carries a face of concern whenever Callie interferes with Nina’s approach towards Elena. She also snaps at Callie when she makes assumptions about her own experience parenting her children when she hasn’t had that experience herself. It is only with Nina that Lena remains soft and empathetic as she watches her struggle with her daughter and is reminded of herself.

Lena holds a heavy gaze upon the young mother and child, a gaze that constructs the entire backbone of this film. With many extreme close-ups of Nina and Elena playing and embracing together, they create a warm feeling of memories for both mothers and daughters being physically close to each other. Although unnatural to the naked eye, the intimacy of the shots for Lena, who is sometimes multiple feet away, provides that same feeling for her as a distant observer and begins to experience the memories of twenty years prior. It isn’t until this fixation is established that we start to peer into Lena’s history and are slowly able to start piecing together the complexity of her character.

The motif of the close-up that we see with Nina and Elena is paralleled with flashbacks of young Lena and her two daughters peeling an orange. This shared moment is repeated through the film that appears to mark a happy bonding experience between the three of them. Once these memories are brought forth for the audience to see, Coleman’s performance shifts in her portrayal of her character in The Last Daughter. Older Lena is visibly anxious and uncomfortable when talking about her experience as a mother and when watching another young mother and her child. Thanks to Coleman’s range, she can bring Lena’s complexity in the wake of these resurfaced emotions by presenting her as unapologetic despite the expectation held by characters like Callie and as someone who is seeking a sense of understanding from the other mother figures in the story.

As for young Lena, Buckley’s performance is strikingly different. We see a much livelier version of the same character, both unlikeable and easier to empathize with. Like older Lena, she is unapologetic for her behavior, which makes her essentially unlikeable. The character breaks the expectations that she assumed to fulfill as a mother, regardless of her age or position in life. On the other hand, we watch her take care of her other responsibilities like her studies and career. We sense her frustration as she is being interrupted by her young daughters. This duality is played within these scenes as they can appear tender in some moments and violently frustrating in the next.

As we learn more about Lena through these flashbacks and all that she can accomplish, we are reminded that Lena’s decision to abandon her children is something she has no remorse for. Young and old Lena alike never once apologizes for that decision, even when they wince in pain (or fear), having to admit it out loud.

Through both performances of Colman and Buckley, the character of Lena in both her younger and middle ages lives life without apologizing or conforming to what others want her to be. Provocative in its approach, this story is essential in showing the dynamic nature of being a woman, something that is beyond her physical abilities and functions. While we live in a society that assumes the woman who becomes a mother is fit for the responsibility, The Lost Daughter begs the consideration that the expectation we place on women who become mothers is one that is unnatural. Lena is not only a representation of a young mother who puts herself before her children; she is also a representation of the unapologetic woman, a woman that is often demonized by society as selfish and cruel.