Stray Dolls is a taut, suspenseful and engaging thriller from rising-star director Sonejuhi Sinha. When Riz, a 20-something Indian immigrant looking to start over in the USA, arrives at the Tides Plaza Motel looking for honest work, it soon becomes clear that the American Dream isn't universally granted to everyone, and she's soon pulled back into a life of petty crime with Dallas, her volatile but determined roommate.
Sinha's careful attention to lighting, color and tone can be seen in every shot, which lends the film a sense of coldness that deepens the viewer's unease.
The desperation of its characters makes the film hum with a sense of urgency that can be unsettling in a powerful way, as it forces the viewer to examine the comforts that we take for granted by inheriting an ingrained sense of belonging in this country.
Geetanjali Thapa infuses Riz with a cynicism born of world-weariness, but it is Olivia Dejonge's Dallas who steals the show with a combustibility that is electrifying to watch. While both of them could have easily come across as familiar tropes of the naïve immigrant and damaged teenage runaway, Sinha masterfully examines these tropes by cracking them open.
We don't have many examples of female-driven, seedy crime thrillers, and it's important to recognize that even in 2020, almost thirty years after the release of Thelma & Louise, we still have very few female antiheroes whose we can feel good about rooting for even as we're watching them be bad.
Sinha's careful attention to lighting, color and tone can be seen in every shot, which lends the film a sense of coldness that deepens the viewer's unease.
The desperation of its characters makes the film hum with a sense of urgency that can be unsettling in a powerful way, as it forces the viewer to examine the comforts that we take for granted by inheriting an ingrained sense of belonging in this country.
Geetanjali Thapa infuses Riz with a cynicism born of world-weariness, but it is Olivia Dejonge's Dallas who steals the show with a combustibility that is electrifying to watch. While both of them could have easily come across as familiar tropes of the naïve immigrant and damaged teenage runaway, Sinha masterfully examines these tropes by cracking them open.
We don't have many examples of female-driven, seedy crime thrillers, and it's important to recognize that even in 2020, almost thirty years after the release of Thelma & Louise, we still have very few female antiheroes whose we can feel good about rooting for even as we're watching them be bad.