“It’s easy to tell the dirtiest minds—look for the cleanest fingernails.”

There are many fragments of sentences in Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh that are immediately striking, and the entire novel is a tightly wound, masterful examination of many different concepts and one of the most ambitious literary debuts of the past decade. Yet, this one is perhaps the most intriguing, since it essentially tells us everything we need to know about the main characters in the book, as well as the various people that exist on the periphery in this deranged story of obsession and desire. It has taken a while, but we have finally gotten the opportunity to see her incredible writing on screen, with director Will Oldroyd (in his feature directorial debut) taking the reigns on one of the author’s most complex novels, and weaving a disquieting but incredibly captivating film that proves to be one of the more unique literary adaptations we have seen in recent years, a mostly accurate translation of the novel, but one that still goes in its direction in certain parts, choosing particular elements to emphasize and others that could not be brought to the screen with the necessary level of vigour. It does help considerably that Moshfegh herself is actively involved in the production, writing the screenplay and as a result guiding the process exceptionally well, and with her razor-sharp wit remaining intact, and only becoming stronger, clearly a result of her recent foray into screenwriting – but as the first attempt to bring one of her books to screen, there was quite a task ahead of everyone involved, and the result is quite extraordinary, even if it is the very definition of uncomfortable cinema, the kind of artistic expression that seemingly exists only to challenge our understanding of common concepts, placing the audience in a position where even the most logical of ideas are turned around and presented from an entirely different perspective, which leads to a far more enthralling and unconventional experience, something that was actively pursued throughout this peculiar but brilliant work of unhinged artistic mayhem.

The concept of the femme fatale is about as old as literature itself – the deceptive women that exist solely to derail the efforts of seemingly valiant or principled men, their femininity being turned into a weapon of deceit and manipulation. Eileen is one of the many forthright attempts to entirely dismantle this trope, but rather than switching gender roles, in which the female character is the one with morals. It is a homme fatale that stands in her way, Moshfegh instead chooses to focus on characters that still possess those same qualities of being manipulative and mysterious but placing them in the central position. Can a femme fatale exist without a male hero that she can coerce into stretching his morality and sense of logic? These are the questions asked throughout this film, which is as unsettling as it is deeply fascinating. It is a character study about two women, one of them an impressionable young secretary longing to escape her small New England town, the other an elegant older woman of indeterminate origin and even more vague moral grounding that settles in the same town, for reasons that we don’t ever quite understand outside of the likely fact that she has something to hide. Provocative and strange, the film is a complex examination of womanhood through the perspective of two characters who are quite different, but yet possess the same sense of incredulity towards the outside world, holding onto their secrets, knowing that if their deepest desires or existential quandaries were ever made public, there would be severe challenges standing in their way. This is the foundation on which Oldroyd builds Eileen, and working closely with Moshfegh, he develops a very unique way of telling these complex stories, finding intricate details that simmer beneath the surface which leads to a harrowing conclusion that proves that a film can lack a clear resolution, granted it does not depend too heavily on its ambiguities, especially not in terms of how the narrative gradually progresses to become even deeper in its final moments.

The characters of Eileen Dunlop and Dr Rebecca St. John are such exceptional and interesting literary creations, that it seemed possible that finding the right actors to play these roles on film would be impossible since there is something about how Moshfegh constructs these characters that makes them profoundly more complex than many filmmakers would be able to comprehend in terms of translating from the page to the screen. This is especially true of the titular character since Eileen is primarily written as recollections by this young woman, which is not always an easy task when it comes to bringing such ideas to film. Mercifully, Oldroyd chose actors who were more than willing to commit to the task, with Thomasin McKenzie and Anne Hathaway proving to be quite a formidable pair. Not only do they have exceptionally strong chemistry, but there is something much deeper that connects them on a more abstract level – they’re very different actors in terms of their style, and while logic may dictate that a film can only work if the actors are compatible, this proves that having two opposed performers nearby can yield fascinating results. McKenzie is one of our brightest young actors, while Hathaway has been doing excellent work for over two decades, so it often feels like the latter is passing the torch onto someone who represents a new generation, and they find interesting ways to develop their characters. In particular, we find that Hathaway is doing some of her best work in years – having recently entered into a stage in her career where she is doing more character-based work, she has proven to be willing to take on several diverse roles, and they’re all perfectly suited to her sensibilities. I genuinely don’t believe any actor working today is more willing to take advantage of every moment they are on screen than Hathaway, but she proves herself to be truly magnetic, and where her natural charisma is used as a device to make the character she is playing even more sinister, which is a fascinating choice that grounds this film and makes it so much more complex.

Beyond the performances, much of what makes Eileen so intriguing is the specific atmosphere created by Moshfegh, which Oldroyd intends to capture on film in much the same way as it was written. This is a profoundly unnerving story, one where the answers are either vague to the point of being more bewildering once we reach the conclusion, or simply do not exist, at least not in the way we would expect. The brilliance of this story is how it subverts all sense of structure and convention in favour of going in its direction – it is fully aware of the fact that it doesn’t need to give the audience any information beyond the bare minimum. Instead, it allows us to form our conclusions through the clues that we are given throughout the story. Unsurprisingly, the most impactful moments are those in which the least is said – Marin Ireland has a phenomenal monologue in which the central mystery of the film is partially resolved, and while we do get the answers we have been seeking for the entire film, specific terms are left out of the dialogue, but through implication, the sheer might of these performances and the fact that there are enough contextual clues to allow us to connect everything, we gain quite a strong understanding of what is being conveyed on screen. Tonally, there are many layers to this film, and we can’t quite categorize it, with Oldroyd drawing on several genres, both visually and in terms of how the story develops, which is one of the many elements that keep us extremely engaged in the story. It does help that the creative and technical elements are precise enough that the era in which the film is taking place is made extremely clear – we are transported back to New England in the early 1960s, with the production design, costumes and music being appropriate to the period, but also slightly off-kilter, which prevents the feeling of nostalgia that normally comes from setting films in the past. Everything about this film coalesces in this challenging and atmospheric drama that never quite finds a direct passage to its conclusion, but still feels profoundly moving as we navigate this peculiar story that is filled to the brim with complex ideas.

Eileen is a film with quite a bit to say, and not enough time to actually expand on all of its ideas, which isn’t a criticism of the film itself, but rather an observation based on how rich and evocative this story was, and how it could have easily spent much more time exploring the world in which these characters inhabit, which is the sign of the strength of the source material, as well as the accuracy of the adaptation, with this being one of the more faithful examples of a novel being brought to life on screen without feeling inferior or as if it was just an excuse to bring this story to a different medium. Instead, we find that Eileen is a thorny, unnerving examination of femininity, identity and obsession, all of which are vital themes that sit at the foundation of the story, and which inform many of its more daring moments, each one perfectly understated and brilliantly executed, which is quite an achievement considering the extent to which this film had to go to even come close to capturing the unhinged brilliance embedded in the source material. The film can sometimes be quite frustrating, and we soon come to realise there is a lot more to be said about this narrative than the film can convey, which does mean that some of its ambiguities are left unresolved, a conscious artistic choice, but one that can be alienating in the wrong hands. However, there is still something so curious about this film and what it represents, and it is difficult to not get drawn into the world in which it takes place, which is recognizable to an extent, being an uncanny representation of a small town, with particularly emphasis on the underlying secrets and how the entire community is built on a dark past. Compelling but strange, Eileen is a hypnotic psychological drama with many riveting ideas, and enough skill to boldly challenge conventions in ways that are nothing if not thoroughly engaging and deeply unsettling, and simply quite extraordinary in terms of both conception and execution, which are nearly perfect when handled by someone with the level of profound understanding necessary to tell this peculiar story.