Within the confines of this minimalist (with a microscopic m) picture, there are sequences so vital, timely and of-the-moment, so powerful and well-observed and precise, the effect can be emotionally overwhelming.
This brilliant, desperately sad Steinbeckian fable from American director Kelly Reichardt. It's Reichardt's third full-length feature ('Old Joy' was in cinemas last year), but only her first masterpiece.
Such is the resonant magic of Kelly Reichardt's remarkable little film, one of those exercises in minimalism where every word matters, every shot counts, until the kernel expands and a whole world emerges in 80 brief minutes.
Whether she's warily cleaning up in a service-station restroom, or staring at the trains that offer a different travel option, or establishing her rapport with Lucy, Williams bravely explores the soul of a creature who's both gentle and determined.
To her credit, Ms. Reichardt never allows her camera to become a voyeuristic witness to a young woman in distress. Instead, it remains focused on a largely indifferent American landscape of strangers in perpetual motion to nowhere.