Paulson is best known for his brief run as the distraught younger brother of Dick Whitman (a.k.a. Jay Paulson, who plays him, is on a very fluid creepy-dreamboat border: His blue eyes can seem deep and intelligent until he shifts the angle of his head and they look fixed and vacant. Her refuge from her pursuers is a dilapidated stationary trailer in which crystal meth is cooked by a lanky redhead named Lowell, who may want to keep her as his prisoner. The actress gives Sawyer a witty detachment from what’s happening to her, as if Sawyer will need to live with all this a while - write or tweet about it, maybe - before she commits to a conclusion. Corfield’s face never loses its thoughtfulness you see the wheels turning in her head even when she’s in shock and near robotic. It’s an important distinction in an era when even mainstream directors have edged into torture porn as if determined to flay the veneer of civilization off their characters - and their audiences. The humanism feels positively radical.įrom the start, it’s clear McGowan will be putting her heroine through hell while protecting her from degradation. In this sort of film, you’re on guard for pop-up scares and sudden spasms of gore, not for moments of blessed connection. It’s tight without being punishing, and its humor takes you happily by surprise. But Rust Creek lets you exhale just a bit. If you’ve seen enough modern woman-in-peril thrillers, you know to brace yourself for the worst-case scenario. Hill) don’t take her refusal to come and party with them gracefully, and soon she’s scrabbling through the denuded late-November landscape with a deep knife wound in her thigh as the chill deepens and darkness closes in. Smarmy Hollister (Micah Hauptman) and big, beefy Buck (Daniel R. whose GPS sends her straight into the path of a pair of scuzzy, meth-pushing gits in the backwoods of Kentucky. In Jen McGowan’s Rust Creek, Hermione Corfield plays Sawyer, a college senior en route to an important job interview in D.C.
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