Dour, dark aesthetic and atmosphere from director, Jean-Marc Vallée, focuses on haunted reporter, Camille (Amy Adams, true to the character throughout, a trauma-plagued adult still reeling from the past, living it in the present), returning home reluctantly (her editor refusing to take no for an answer) to cover a child's murder and missing girl case, revisiting lingering emotional suffering that resurfaces upon meeting her morose mother and ambivalent father, recalling her sister's moments prior to death, the death itself, and the funeral afterward while trying to piecemeal a story for her St. Louis Chronicle paper. Patricia Clarkson is non-too-surprisingly brilliant as Adams' mother, seemingly always on edge, as if she'll fall apart at any given moment if word gets back to her that her reporter daughter is "acting inappropriately". Clarkson's husband is played by Henry Czerny, quite stoic and blank, avoiding any sort of confrontation with her, especially when she gobbles some booze and presses upon Adams to not talk about the cases she's investigating. Czerny keeps any comments he might have inside while Clarkson scolds and chides Adams when she feels her reputation might be threatened...reputation to Clarkson remains quite important. Eliza Scanlen is Adams' sister, a subservient doll in dress when around her mother but all sex kittenish in her "civvies" (short, tight jorts and clinging shirt, rollerblading with her teen girlfriends) around town square and thereabouts. Matt Craven is the sweaty, clueless smalltown sheriff, ill-prepared for a serial killer, trying to avoid Adams and any story that might draw attention to Wind Gap. Chris Messina as the "out of town" (this emphasized between he and Adams in their various tense conversations) detective from Kansas City who was called in to help Craven, feels unwanted and undesired after some time helping to investigate the first death (girl found strangled by clothes line) and search for a second victim eventually found rested in a window seal, dirt tracks down her legs, blood present on her person, in an alley near the town square. Much like everyone else in this series, Messina remains sour and sore, not particularly featuring an inviting, engaging personality. If you are looking for sunny, vibrant, charming characters, "Sharp Objects" is not for you. This is like an open wound spilling out damaged, depressing, scarred people. Adams awakens broken, moves through her life that way, and copes throughout the pilot episode with the welcome friend poured in a small glass. When you meet her family, why she does so becomes all too clear. Her sister's death, as if an invisible chokehold seized her throat while pointing toward the ceiling alongside Sophia Lillis (a young Adams) while the two debate what the shapes represent to them, clearly is a blow that leaves its lasting pain Adams walks around with daily. Veteran Elizabeth Perkins pours on a Southern charm when Adams spots her during a search party tracking the whereabouts of the eventual second victim, offering her tea "with a little extra something". Will Chase is the homophobic, rage-filled father of the second victim Adams is granted a chance to question about when his daughter was kidnapped. Miguel Sandoval, as the editor, keeps in touch with Adams, forcing her to face her demons and work through the issues that have obviously reigned supreme in her psyche. An acting showcase, for sure, but not a friendly, cheery environment we are introduced to. The color aesthetic applied by the director is alluring, sometimes distancing, other times moody and even seductive. But the tone is quite a drag, and the pace will strain the patience of some. But I'm not opposed to its slow burn, a burn many feel is too meticulous and deliberate to contend with, withdrawing from the series before it has a chance to truly sink in its nails. How the past memories often bleed into the present for Adams can be jarring, but that's the point.
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