Trust Review

Trust serves as an interesting fictitious follow-up to last year's Catfish (though some would argue Catfish was fictitious, as well), exposing the danger of the online social experience by exploring every parent's worst nightmare.  While the film could easily stray into didactic "To Catch a Predator" territory, it mostly avoids the overly melodramatic, instead presenting a very real threat by revealing the complex psychology that can lead to and result from internet-borne relationships.

At the heart of David Schwimmer's semi-horror film is Liana Liberato, a stunning new face with startling talent and emotional range.  Liberato tackles a difficult role - that of Annie, an insecure teen who starts an online relationship with "Charlie" (Chris Henry Coffey), whom she believes to be a guy her age living in Cali - with fierce gusto and bruising honesty.  After being molested by Charlie, who proves to be much older than he tells her, Annie struggles to make sense of the situation by defending him and their supposed mutual affection.  When Charlie's history of such offenses finally comes to light, Liberato owns the screen as few young actresses can, bursting into her therapist's office and breaking down as she realizes that she was indeed raped.  It's an unforgettable scene and an instance of true tour-de-force acting, the kind rarely managed by actresses three times Liberato's age.

Clive Owen also gets the chance to flex his acting muscle as Annie's vengeful dad, Will, who becomes so fixated on bringing Charlie to some form of justice that he loses sight of his work, his family, and - most tellingly - Annie.  Will's obsession extends to local sex offenders and drives him to inappropriate violent outbursts, tearing his family apart more than his daughter's assault.  Will is at once the character audiences can perhaps most relate to and become most frustrated with, a balance Owen manages to maintain throughout the film.

For all its acting prowess (Catherine Keener is present, too, and great as always) and directorial restraint, the film makes a few missteps, the least of which is not bringing University of Michigan into the equation (I kid, I kid... but I'm a Buckeye, so seriously).  There's an over-reliance on titles, which is at least an understandable crutch.  Much of Annie and Charlie's relationship exists through text messages and instant messaging, meaning there's a lot of written text for viewers to read.  The rampant use of text doesn't detract from the film in a meaningful way beyond making certain scenes (specifically the opening scenes) feel somewhat cheap or amateurish.  Perhaps more phone calls could have been used to establish the relationship?

Trust also has a factor of predictability: even as the characters are dynamic, they are rarely surprising (Annie is the exception).  Will's journey into obsession is effective and polarizing, but he sometimes sounds like a broken record, which is more the fault of the writers than the actors.  Indeed, the screenplay provides many individual moments and scenes that translate powerfully to the screen, especially when Schwimmer pulls back on the melodramatic to handle a scene with especial delicacy, but the overall writing leaves something to be desired.  True, when a film centers on child molestation, one isn't expecting a happy trip to the theater, but Trust can rightfully be accused of being needless in its relentless depression.  The moments of levity or at least calm are few and far between, but greatly appreciated when they do crop up.

It's truly too bad that Trust was slapped with an R rating, as this is a film that could certainly benefit the younger demographic that is too quick and loose with their personal information when participating in the online sphere of social life.  With its timely message, great acting, and a last scene that makes you want to rush to the shower, Trust is a powerful warning and beautifully handled familial drama.