But the diaries told a different kind of story. The yellow pads appeared to have the earnest beginnings of two different novels. He’d kept the diaries since he was a teenager, and they were filled with the usual diary things-longings, observations, frustrations-while the legal pads were marbled with more variety: aphoristic musings, quotes that spoke to him, stabs at fiction. W hen Bobby McIlvaine died on September 11, 2001, his desk at home was a study in plate tectonics, coated in shifting piles of leather-bound diaries and yellow legal pads. This article was featured in One Story to Read Today, a newsletter in which our editors recommend a single must-read from The Atlantic, Monday through Friday. Johnson, Tim Macy, Ramaa Mosley, Gina ResnickĮditors: Phillip J.This article was published online on August 9, 2021. Production companies: Green Hummingbird Entertainment, Laundry Films, Variety PicturesĬast: Leven Rambin, Jim Parrack, Taylor John Smith, Landon Edwards, Toni Chritton Johnson But it’s not enough to make Lost Child more than a mildly intriguing curiosity.

There is no fault to be found with the performers besides Rambin’s fine, intense work, Parrack delivers an appealing, low-key turn as the supportive Mike and Edwards, making his screen debut, reveals himself to be a promisingly natural child actor. Throughout the proceedings there are hints of the film that might have been, but every time it seems on the verge of being arresting, it pulls back, as if from fear of offending. Nor do the sociological themes have much impact, from Fern’s troubled youth to her obvious PTSD to the resolution of the boy’s mystery. The film’s screenplay, written by Mosely and Tim Macy (who previously collaborated on the equally quirky The Brass Teapot), flirts with supernatural elements but in an allusive, lackadaisical manner that produces no chills. She also crosses paths with her brother (Taylor John Smith) who accosts her, beats her up and tells her that he wants nothing to do with her. She eventually becomes aware of a local legend involving a “Tatterdemalion” an evil, life-draining spirit that comes in the form of a child. Fern finds herself becoming ill, her hair turning white and falling out.

When Mike takes a picture of him, the photograph mysteriously disappears from his phone. That’s not the only strange thing about him. He urges her to take care of the boy until his relatives can be found.Ĭecil turns out to be remarkably resourceful, making dinner for Fern from two small birds he’s killed.

They send a social worker, who turns out to be Mike. He has no explanation about his background or how he wound up in the woods alone, so Fern takes him home with her and contacts the authorities. When her dog runs off into the nearby woods, Fern follows him and encounters a shabbily dressed and strangely polite young boy (Landon Edwards) who informs her that his name is Cecil.

“Not here now,” he informs her, adding, “He’ll be back before long.” The police officer in charge looks up his extensive petty criminal record. She adopts a dog from the local pound for “protection.” And she inquires at the local jail about her brother’s whereabouts. She has a one-night stand with a local bartender, Mike (Jim Parrack), who is clearly interested in seeing her again. Fern moves into the modest house once occupied by her late father, reconnecting with a neighbor (Toni Chritton Johnson) who knew her family well.

The medium and lost kid