Lamb

Lamb toys with its audience, playing mind games until the very last frame. Even after the credits roll, questions linger about motive, intention, and right and wrong. The only certainty is that Ross Partridge, who wrote the screenplay, directed and stars, has crafted a gem of a film.
Based on the novel by Bonnie Nadzam, Lamb opens on David Lamb (Partridge) as his life is imploding. His marriage has just failed and his invalid father, whom we briefly see in a neglected Chicago home-turned-hovel, soon passes away. Instead of earning sympathy, David immediately proves to be an untrustworthy and unreliable protagonist.
In a motel room surrounded by boxes and belongings, he calls up his younger co-worker and mistress Linny (Jess Weixler) for phone sex. He lies about the state of his marriage, whispering that he’s afraid his wife might overhear them, and continues the charade even when Linny says she’s heard that he’s now living in a motel. This early scene is baffling—why would he not want his lover to come over?—but in hindsight, it sets up the character perfectly for the journey ahead.
Despondent about his father’s death and the tumult in his life, David turns his attention to an 11-year-old girl named Tommie (Oona Laurence), a latchkey kid from a broken home. They meet in a strip mall parking lot, with Tommie’s ill-fitting tube top-and-heels ensemble reminiscent of Jodie Foster’s Iris in Taxi Driver. Tommie’s been dared by her frenemies to ask David for a cigarette, which he obliges. In a chilling sequence, David forces her into his car and says he’ll “pretend” to kidnap her to teach her friends a lesson about approaching strange men. Laurence conveys a palpable fear as Tommie shrinks into the passenger door as far away from the man as possible. Relief washes over her (and us) when he drops her off at home.
Although it might be too late to save himself, David believes he can save Tommie from a life of neglect and abject hopelessness by showing her beauty that exists beyond the city. The two strike up an odd friendship that wavers between a paternal relationship and, possibly, something more nefarious. It’s during one of these moments that Partridge and his music team select the perfect song: “Am I a Good Man,” a 1967 soul classic performed by Them Two, opens with the lyric, “Am I a good man? / Am I a fool?” and channels the audience’s exact thoughts. The duo embarks on a road trip from Chicago to David’s father’s cabin in Wyoming. There’s only one thing that David fails to do before they leave—get permission from Tommie’s mother.