David Lowery

A figure under a sheet watches people he cannot join. In A Ghost Story (2017), David Lowery gives that predicament time to become uncomfortable. We were moved by the ghost’s loneliness because Lowery makes the waiting so awkward and so ordinary. He risks losing our attention to make us feel what being left behind might be like. It is a risk worth taking, though he does not always know when to stop.

The move from his breakthrough, Ain't Them Bodies Saints (2013), to the studio work of Pete's Dragon (2016) did not become a permanent change of direction. A Ghost Story followed, and he has continued to alternate studio and independent filmmaking. The gentle crime drama The Old Man & the Gun (2018) and the fantasy The Green Knight (2021) belong to that varied run. Through it, his preference for atmosphere over plot has remained recognisable.

His work as an editor helps explain why that quietness can hold us. In A Ghost Story, he lets an ordinary action occupy our attention, then cuts so that we can no longer comfortably measure the time passing. We have settled into watching a moment last, and suddenly that small reassurance has gone. His interest in time becomes something we experience without needing anyone to discuss it.

His recurring collaborators include Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck, and that familiarity suits a director who relies on minimal dialogue. In A Ghost Story, Mara gives the grief weight, while composer Daniel Hart lets the music be openly mournful. Hart’s score works because the performances remain restrained. The ghost has no visible expression to help him, so the music has a clear job to do.

The writing can be less trusting. The monologue about permanence in A Ghost Story explains questions the images have already raised, and its solemnity makes the film seem too pleased with itself. Some held shots also outlast our concentration; we do not need him to hurry, but we do need him to notice when waiting has stopped moving us. Start with A Ghost Story, and forgive the speech.