Martha is an enigma. Stealing away from the farm community she’s been living in, she seeks refuge in her uptight sister’s lakeside house. But with an inability to recognise or adjust to social norms, particularly sexual propriety, details of her experience start to seep through.
With the title marking the various names our lead character goes by, this is a film about a divided self, and one that may not have been fully formed to begin with. Newcomer Elizabeth Olson thrills with an astonishing performance as the damaged Martha in a film that eschews cliché and manages to question both the rural cult and the conservative normality represented by her sister and brother-in-law.
Merging present with near-past, the picture is built within a disorienting architecture, all glass and water, as a creeping tension swells to the pitch of psychological thriller.
With an ending we haven’t seen the likes of since John Sayles’ Limbo, Martha Macy May Marlene is a remarkably mature and ambiguous slice of American independent cinema, and marks bold new voices in directing and cinematography.