Lithuanian Teen Drama: Catwalk Dreams Amid Urban Struggles

The mean girls of your average Hollywood teen movie wouldn’t last a morning in the ruthless adolescent playground of “Toxic,” where economic exploitation and unforgiving body image standards rule both bullies and their prey. Set in an industrial Lithuanian town where even the asphalt has seen better days, Saulė Bliuvaitė’s debut feature is uncompromising in its depiction of the punishment and self-abuse endured by girls at a fly-by-night modeling academy. Here, the vague promise of an escape motivates frightening extremes of disordered eating and body modification. Sobering but not without glimmers of tenderness and humor as female friendship takes root, this Locarno competition entry promises a healthy festival run with interest from edgier arthouse distributors.

“Toxic” signals its severity from its opening shot, as 13-year-old Marija (Vesta Matulytė) stands alone, tensely quivering in a bathing suit, while her classmates verbally attack her in a high school changing room. The high angle of DP Vytautas Katkus’ camera pins this already vulnerable figure like a specimen in a petri dish. The film’s alternation between chilly composure and kinetic movement reflects Marija’s wavering sense of self, while occasional forays into music video-like scenes mirror a future she and her peers imagine for themselves.

Marija is new to this unnamed town, a dead-end assortment of graveled lots, concrete blocks, and prefab houses, where her flighty mom has sent her to live with her unassuming florist grandmother. Friendless and bored, she confronts her tormentors, hoping to make their grade. After one brutal brawl over a stolen pair of jeans, she finally finds an ally in Kristina (Ieva Rupeikaitė), a spiky blonde hellion who sees what the other appearance-fixated bullies can’t admit about Marija: she’s tall and striking, characteristics that can open doors for working-class girls without obvious prospects. Inner beauty counts for little here, but calling her pretty is the warmest gesture Marija has ever known.

Kristina is already enrolled at a local modeling school, whose squat gray premises falsely claim to send successful graduates to catwalks in Paris and Tokyo. Given her disability, Marija hadn’t considered modeling, but wanting to stay close to Kristina, she enrolls, only to be singled out as an especially promising candidate. The school’s education is a soul-sapping routine of endless walking instruction and daily body measuring, with gold stars awarded for weight loss. This priority is so consuming that even the already thin Kristina seeks dangerous extra credit, dumping her dinners and procuring a black-market tapeworm to further hollow herself out.

It’s an unnerving reminder of the punishing physical standards young women still face, despite the superficial rise of body positivity in popular culture. Marija’s rising social stock as a potential supermodel attracts attention from older local boys, but she and Kristina are unprepared for the complexities of sex as currency. Kristina naively attempts to barter her body for money to meet the school’s financial demands, which predictably spiral out of control.

Bliuvaitė’s script doesn’t delve deeply into the corrupt specifics of an industry known to be rotten. Instead, she focuses on the fraught, complex relationship between the two girls who become emotionally dependent on each other, even as they stoke each other’s most damaging insecurities. This leaves viewers to ponder whether a possibly toxic friendship is better than none at all. The extraordinary performances by the leads — Matulytė achingly recessive and tranquil, Rupeikaitė a whirlwind of belligerent energy — suggest two halves of one whole. As their relationship evolves from mutual exploitation to something candid and wounded, one can’t help but be moved. There are no sparkly friendship bracelets here, just fragile, hard-earned care.

Source: Variety