Too far from any town to be monitored by anyone, let alone by Child Protective Services, Lisa has grown up with no friends, no religion and no sense that her life or anyone else’s is a precious thing.
Lisa’s father died when she was 10 years old. Before he died, he gave her a tiny, red toy piano. He never showed her how it works.
It’s no wonder that smiling, charming, cold-eyed Clint, there at Lisa’s home with a friend during a brief but noisy visit with Lisa’s mom, can win Lisa’s heart and body with a few kinds words. Too bad Clint turns out to be the kind of man who keeps women close to him by use of an occasional beating.
What’s worse, Lisa is the kind of young kid who will do whatever Clint asks her to do, even if that includes reluctantly procuring young women for him, women who in turn are living lives as forgotten and debasing as Lisa’s. And as Clint and Lisa embark on their chilling rape and murder spree, Lisa brings along the only thing in the world that once connected her to the kind of normal life that children ought to have — her toy piano.
In a world full of overwhelming losses and grief, the saddest fact seems to be the relief we feel for Lisa once she’s incarcerated. In jail, at least, she’s clean, she’s safe, for the time being, and she’s cared for. In fact, once she’s in jail, Lisa can finally flourish.
As Lisa, Rachel Style’s performance is breathtaking in its focus, honesty, integrity and willingness to reveal the darkest side of humanity.
As sociopathic Clint, Martin Papazian is equally real, and even more unnerving, as a man fully convinced of the rightness of his sub-humanity.
As Carl, Lisa’s public defender, Pete Gardner does a superlative job being the kind of person who is able to see, like we can, the Lisa we first met — the hurt, kind, loving one.
