“I’m an unnatural mother” This is a line that stuck with me since my first viewing of Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Oscar nominated directorial debut, The Lost Daughter. I have always been fascinated by the concept of motherhood – I’ve always felt that society puts a disproportionate emphasis on the significance of ‘the mother’, not just on the individual level, but on our community – on society. ‘Mother’ is sacred. The invention of the ‘Virgin Mary’ ruined motherhood for all the women and birth givers out there, in my opinion. She is perfect, she birthed Jesus Christ for Christ’s sake, without even sacrificing her chastity. Mary gave her body and soul for her child - she was the Madonna, weeping as she held the limp, naked body of her dead son. But what about Jesus’ dad? To quote Laura Dern’s unforgettable character in Marriage Story, “God is the father and God didn’t show up!”. Our system, and the very belief our morality is based on, justifies an absent and neglectful father while setting women up for failure.
contemplating what kind of mother I would make, and if I would ever fill that role. My own mother was not much of a natural, conventional mother either; she’s a complicated woman, like myself and most others. Perhaps this is why The Lost Daughter struck a chord with me. A Netflix original adaptation of a novel, The Lost Daughter illustrates Leda (Olivia Colman), a 48-year-old professor and mother of two, and her seaside trip to Greece. It is not a relaxing one, as it turns out, as she is joined by a dodgy family from Queens. Out of this group, Leda immediately fixates on Nina (Dakota Johnson), a young mother seemingly struggling to take care of her young daughter, Elena.
The Lost Daugther Film Review
Society wants women to be mothers, and for women to feel solely empowered as a mother – to feel that motherhood gives them self-worth. It’s an ideology that keeps women subservient without necessarily feeling worthless, so there’s no reason to complain. If a woman is satisfied and finds their purpose in simply birthing and raising children, she will lose her appetite for life, for independence and ambition. Women, from their childhood, are groomed into being mothers - a natural mother. Have you ever had a conversation with an older relative perhaps, where you expressed your fear of motherhood and were told not to worry, that you will grow into it? I find that as I start to reach the age my mother was when she had me, her first and only child. I spend more and more time
Words by Jenny Jung
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We soon find out that this gravitation is out of empathy; for Leda herself, as we find out, was a flawed mother – a guilty mother. Society demonises women who aren’t perfect, robotic mothers willing to give their wholeself to raising their children. Women who have mixed feelings about motherhood. So, you are taken aback as Leda utters bitterly through a smile early into the film; “Children are a crushing responsibility”. You are instantly made aware of your preconceived expectation of Leda, a middle aged, devoted mother (a ‘cool mum’ at that; she teaches Italian literature!) of 2 adult children that find guidance and support in her. And in the dizzying, smothering flashback scenes where Leda is proven otherwise - losing her patience, feeling anxious and honestly neglectful in pursuit of her career ambitions - you see not just
