‘Toxic’ Review: Unstinting Lithuanian Teen Drama Follows Catwalk Dreams In a Concrete Nightmare

As someone who has spent a significant part of my life navigating the treacherous waters of adolescence and its attendant societal expectations, I found “Toxic” to be a stark, unflinching portrayal of the harsh realities faced by young women in their quest for acceptance. The film’s setting in an industrial Lithuanian town is as grimy and unforgiving as the world I often felt during my teenage years.


In the ruthless world of a typical Hollywood teen movie’s mean girls, it would be challenging to survive even a single morning at the merciless schoolyard of “Toxic.” This gritty film, directed by Saulė Bliuvaitė in her debut feature, takes place in an industrial Lithuanian town where the roads have seen better times. The movie unflinchingly portrays the hardships and self-harm experienced by girls attending a shady modeling academy. The prospect of leaving for any destination, however distant, drives these young women to desperate acts like extreme dieting and body alteration. Despite its grim subject matter, the film does offer moments of compassion and humor as friendships form in this dismal environment. This competition entry at Locarno has potential for a strong festival circuit, with interest from distributors specializing in edgier arthouse productions.

The film “Toxic” sets an ominous tone from the start, as 13-year-old Marija (played by Vesta Matulytė) stands alone in a school’s changing room, visibly anxious, while her classmates cruelly mock her about her lifelong limp. The high camera angle used by DP Vytautas Katkus makes Marija appear even more vulnerable, as if she’s pinned under a microscope in a lab. However, director Bliuvaitė doesn’t always maintain this clinical perspective. The film’s shift between cold, composed scenes and energetic, dynamic ones mirrors Marija’s fluctuating self-perception. Occasionally, the movie transitions into the dreamy, slow-moving aesthetic of music videos, which seems to represent the future that Marija and her peers envision for themselves.

I’ve just moved to an unnamed town, a gloomy place filled with graveled lots, concrete blocks, and prefab houses, where my free-spirited mom has left me with my humble florist grandmother. With no friends and nothing much to do, I find myself forced to face my tormentors in the hope of changing things. After a rough altercation over a pair of jeans I’d had stolen, I finally meet Kristina, a petite, spiky-haired girl with a fiery spirit (played by Ieva Rupeikaitė). Unlike the shallow bullies who torment me, she sees something in me that they refuse to acknowledge: I’m tall and striking in a way that could potentially open doors for girls like us. In this cold town, outer beauty holds more value than inner, but even a simple compliment about my looks is more kindness than I’ve ever experienced.

1. Kristina has joined a modeling school in the neighborhood, though its dull gray building may not seem like much, it boasts of launching graduates onto catwalks in Paris and Tokyo. Despite her disability, Marija had never contemplated modeling, but to stay connected with her new acquaintance, she decides to enroll too. To her surprise, she stands out as a particularly talented prospect. The learning experience is monotonous, filled with endless walking lessons and daily body measurements, rewarding weight loss. This focus on weight loss is so intense that even the thin Kristina tries to lose more by skipping meals and buying a black-market tapeworm to accelerate weight loss.

As a woman who has spent years navigating the harsh realities of the fashion industry, I cannot help but be disheartened by the persistence of unrealistic physical standards for young women, even as body positivity supposedly gains traction in popular culture. My own experience is a testament to this fact.

Bliuvaitė’s script doesn’t delve extensively into the gritty details of an industry that is widely recognized as corrupt. Instead, she focuses on the strained, intricate bond between two girls who grow emotionally reliant on each other, while fueling each other’s deepest insecurities, leaving the viewers to ponder if a potentially harmful friendship is preferable to none. The exceptional acting by the two leads (Matulytė portraying a subdued and calm demeanor, while Rupeikaitė exudes a whirlwind of aggressive, anxious energy) gradually implies that they form two halves of one stronger whole. It’s challenging not to be touched as Marija and Kristina’s feelings for each other progress from a form of mutual manipulation into something more genuine and hurtful: no shiny friendship charms here, just delicate, painstakingly earned affection.

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2024-08-17 15:46