Written by TJ Laggis, Photo courtesy of SCAD
“Lost Bayou,” the debut feature film for Director Brian C. Miller Richard, aims to blur the lines between the realms of the physical and spiritual. “It’s fantastical but rounded by reality,” Richard said, during the post credit Q & A session. This southern gothic paints a strikingly honest portrait of a young woman, Gal, who’s wrestling with addiction and a question humanity has tried to define since the beginning: What does the word faith truly mean?
Quite an ambitious and lofty undertaking but one that pays dividends, for those willing to follow Gal and her faith-healer father, Pop, on their journey across the Atchafalaya Basin, to bury a dead body.
There are more than a few reasons why “Lost Bayou” is the “hidden gem of the festival,” as I overheard one man refer to it, while we exited the theater. One of the most compelling arguments, though, is its ability to immerse you in a world far from the ordinary. Richard’s vision was to personify the setting and make the bayou come alive.
From the opening scene I was wrapped by the sounds of the mystical atmosphere: birds chirping, the houseboat creaking, but most of all, the eerie ambient Cajun score, composed by The Lost Bayou Ramblers. If you listen close enough it’s as if you can almost hear the divine, whispering among the cyprus knees and the Spanish moss.
The way we perceive the environment is instrumental because it informs the way we receive the narrative as well. We are constantly moving, both literally and figurately. As Gal and Pop travel deeper into the Bayou’s endless expanse, it grows and unravels, along with their stories. With every new bend in the river, their choices intensify and their decisions fall with more weight – each one heavier than the last.
As we grapple with their decisions along the way, the film slowly peels back the shattered layers of their relationship. In a synthesis between traumatic flashbacks and intimate moments of reconciliation, the two venture deeper into their perspectives on spirituality. This is arguably what defines the intention of “Lost Bayou” and, subsequently, this is the piece of Gal and Pop’s trek that holds the most resonance with the audience.
The beauty of Richard’s directing lies within his ability to maintain balance. The film keeps us so embedded in the Bayou; we feel like we’ve lived on the water our whole lives. However, he also allows for the narrative to transcend the setting, letting it float above the muddy banks. We are torn between two worlds, no different than Gal and Pop.
It’s a reflection of the human condition. The ethereal search for healing somewhere along a weary old river, filled with the pain and grief of our past. “Lost Bayou” isn’t a story about a happily ever after, it’s a story about survival and there’s something comforting about that.
