Director Kelly Reichardt’s previous film, Old Joy, was based, like Wendy and Lucy, her new one, on a short story by Jonathan Raymond. The two share a lot: a commitment to reality’s Zen-like languor, and to their lead characters’ ambling searches for identity and place.

These films are neat—special in their own sparse, post-Kerouacian ways—but hardly showpieces for Reichardt as a director (they do, however, highlight her good taste, which for some has been more than enough). Still, Wendy and Lucy is superior to Old Joy because of one undeniable aspect: Michelle Williams, who is shaping up to be a fine actor. Her portrayal of Wendy, a penniless, Alaska-bound drifter whose car breaks down in Oregon, is almost entirely devoid of the weight of her celebrity. (Compare Williams’ work with that of musician Will Oldham, whose irritating, self-conscious hamming here is, thankfully, much briefer than it is in Old Joy.) Williams has a knack for simple, clean emoting, which fits Reichardt’s and Raymond’s approaches perfectly; restrained looks and movements, rather than words, get her results. Indeed, it is quite possible that Wendy and Lucy would be boring and laughable without her (it is, after all, about a hipster at her wit’s end, looking for her lost dog) instead of the small, frightening tragedy that it is.—David Balzer

Wendy and Lucy festival show times:
Sept. 5, 7:45 p.m., AMC Yonge and Dundas
Sept. 7, 12:45 p.m., Scotiabank Theatre