Lonely – Michelle Ingram

The chill of autumn is in the air. The trees have lost most of their leaves, the sunshine is weak and wan, offering only flat light and precious little warmth. On another day, in another season, the rustic setting — a path along a lake — would be inviting, even inspiring. But for Michelle Ingram, this place, on this day, offers no joy, only solitude and sadness. Once director Andrej Lupin has established Michaela’s melancholy mood he follows her inside. Even as she lolls on the bed it’s clear that the warm sheets offer little comfort. Alone, with nothing but her thoughts for companionship, Michaela chooses to chase away her blues with some mood-elevating erotic pleasure. The art of Lupin’s directorial technique, and the power of Michaela’s performance,, derives from the pronounced feeling that this isn’t a performance at all. “Lonely” takes the viewer into a private world where a woman enjoys herself, by herself, for nobody’s benefit but her own. She remains at least partially clothed throughout much of “Lonely,” and it’s only after her sexual arousal has reached a particularly feverish peak that she strips completely and lets her thrusting, probing, stroking fingers deliver her to the ultimate ecstasy. Deeply moving, exquisitely beautiful, and subtly nuanced, “Lonely” presents an intimate view of a young woman’s search for satisfaction.