The Orchard
There are few images in the public consciousness as rife with unease and danger as an adult man in the company of a young girl of no relation. The imagination descends immediately to the salacious marking him as criminal aggressor and the child as victim — but does the appearance of impropriety guarantee a preordained outcome?
David Lamb (Ross Partridge, who also writes and directs) is at something of a low-point in his life. His marriage has fallen apart, his boss has put him on mandatory leave for screwing around with a co-worker (the always terrific Jess Weixler), and his distant and sickly father has just passed away. Disillusioned with his current station in life, he pauses briefly in a parking lot unsure of where to go from there. It’s not long before an unlikely answer arrives in the form of Tommie (Oona Laurence), a pre-teen dolled-up in high heels and tight clothes who’s been dared by her not-so friendly friends to bum a cigarette from the stranger.
Irritated by how the other girls are treating Tommie, David suggests the pair stage a fake kidnapping to teach them a lesson about not talking to strange adults. The girls are unfazed, but it’s the start of something unusual for the newly-minted partners in crime. David sees himself as a lost cause and her as a blank slate headed towards a life of apathy and abandon — Tommie sees herself as removed from the sensibilities of others and David as a kind, warm man who’s shown an interest. He decides to take this opportunity to correct her course by way of his wisdom and time spent closer to the great outdoors, and with the eleven year-old’s permission — nonsense, and he knows it — the two take a road trip to his father’s cabin in the mountains.
An adult man and a young girl make for challenging bedfellows in the heartfelt and harrowing Lamb, and it’s no exaggeration to say that there are scenes here as tense and anxiety-inducing as anything in last year’s Sicario. It’s not a comparison of plot, character, or genre as the two share nothing in common in those regards, but Lamb features sequences and moments that leave us clenching our fists, fearful of what we worry is coming next. That threat is inherent in the situation meaning the film itself doesn’t need to walk viewers to the edge through manufactured drama — we’re already there.
The pairing is platonic, but will that last? Tommie’s attraction to David makes a sad sense due to the man’s kindness and superiority over her own indifferent slug of a father, but what’s driving his affection towards the child? There’s a desperation in his desire to do right by her — and in effect perhaps do right by himself — but what’s his end game? He knows not only how this looks but also how it most likely will end, but that risk is seemingly outweighed by the good he believes he’s doing for the girl.
The tightrope being walked her is razor-thin, and it’s kept taut in large part by the two lead performances. Partridge is tasked with an extremely difficult role as a man whose every move is suspect as being motivated by the worst possible inclinations. We’ve watched him lie to Tommie and others, and he exists just one sideways glance away from confirming an evil we’re already primed to expect. He’s worrisome, but Partridge finds a purity within the man — it’s not innocence as David is well beyond that label, but there’s an intelligent and honest loneliness behind his words and actions. Laurence would be a revelation if it weren’t for having already shown her talent in the likes of last year’s Southpaw. She’s small in size, but the skill she wields in shifting effortlessly between fragile child and punchy pre-teen is big in effect and impact.
Lamb is a buddy picture, a road picture, and a tale of friendship, but it’s one where the buddies exist in an uncomfortable dynamic. The conflict that arises — we can’t support this pairing, but they seem to work so damn well together — infuses the drama with an uncertainty that speaks to the best and worst of humanity. We want what’s best for these two even if we’re not sure they themselves no exactly what that is.
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