The Starling Girl (2023)

The Starling Girl is special because it treats a volatile coming-of-age story with the calm confidence of a film that knows human beings are complicated, not cautionary tales. Laurel Parmet directs with a steady, compassionate eye, letting the Kentucky church setting feel lived-in and intimate while the tension quietly tightens, and Eliza Scanlen gives a performance so alert and emotionally precise you can almost see Jem thinking in real time. The vibe is hushed, intimate, and unsettling in a way that feels honest—more about power, longing, and the ache of trying to belong than about easy villains or neat lessons. It’s not a comforting watch, and it deals with sexuality, control, and family fracture, but if you want a drama that respects your intelligence and stays with you after the credits, this one is worth leaning into.

The Starling Girl is aiming for a quiet, unsettling coming-of-age portrait of a teen trying to claim agency inside a rigid fundamentalist community, with religion, desire, and power all tangled together. It succeeds most when it stays intimate and observant—Eliza Scanlen is excellent at showing Jem’s mix of bravado and confusion, and the film captures how control can masquerade as care. But be warned: the story isn’t built around twists or big revelations, and the pacing can feel shaggy, as if it’s circling the same emotional beats until the ending arrives without the punch some viewers want. If you need a sharper plot, clearer catharsis, or a more original take on faith-and-sexuality drama, this may test your patience—even if the performances and atmosphere keep it watchable.