Lizzie (2018)

Score: 3 / 5

It may be a minor cultural phenomenon, but the story of Lizzie Borden is one I knew almost nothing about. Beyond, of course, the little sing-song rhyme about her "whacks" with an axe.

The tale is one of the destruction of family life. Lizzie dwells in the house of her father Andrew (Jamey Sheridan) along with her sister Emma (Kim Dickens); Lizzie's stepmother Abby (Fiona Shaw) may not be the wicked figure of fairytales, but this is by no means a house of love or mirth. Andrew dominates his home in abusive fashion, a house that is haunted by vague threats from town, hinting that Andrew's public life is as destructive as his private life. The appearance of a new maid named Bridget sparks the action of the film.

A meek Irish immigrant, Bridget cares for the family, but after nursing Lizzie to health after a seizure connects most intimately with her. Kristen Stewart plays Bridget with surprising ability masked under layers of calculated mild-mannered-ness. Lizzie and Bridget begin a timid affair through notes and shared moments of quiet away from prying eyes and forceful hands. Their tenderness stands in stark contrast to Lizzie's waking life, as her father plans to disinherit his daughters and leave everything to Abby. And after Bridget's mother dies, Lizzie witnesses Andrew assaulting Bridget by night.

Chloe Sevigny, always excellent in her performances, has made a career of complex queer female characters and of being naked on screen. And her Lizzie Borden is no different, though here she understates the character so much that it's hard to read her. She's not quite crazy, but she's so cool and collected that she can hardly be fully sane. It's such a nuanced performance that the film hinges on it, and it mostly succeeds. The film itself, directed by Craig William Macneill, views the story with a similarly dispassionate air, allowing the proceedings to string along like an episode of Dateline. It could do with more dramatic flourish, but it's an interesting choice nonetheless.

Stoic as her performance is, Sevigny's empathy for Lizzie is as clear as the sense of impending doom around the star-crossed lovers. Regardless of the historicity of this film, Bryce Kass's screenplay makes a strong case for Lizzie's justification in her actions; assuming, of course, that she did the deed. It's a sort of OJ Simpson parallel, and when the film finally shows its climax -- later than it really happens -- it does it in an In Cold Blood style flashback that magnificently shows the calculated complexity of the murders. And, yes, Sevigny is naked. In our age of murder-by-the-minute on any given television crime procedural, it's refreshing to see this level of erotic, calculated, and stylized brutality.