The true narrative behind “The Lost Bus” is stranger than fiction. Its concept mirrors a theme from a ’90s script, during a period of disaster films like “Twister,” “Volcano,” and “Deep Impact.” An average man with internal conflicts uses his practical abilities and resolve to rescue a bus filled with children ensnared by a raging wildfire. The twist? The burning town is called Paradise.
“The Lost Bus” draws inspiration from the real-life account of school bus driver Kevin McKay, who, on November 8, 2018, rescued 22 elementary students from the Camp Fire, the most lethal and destructive wildfire in California’s history. In the cinematic rendition, elements are modified for dramatic effect, and McKay’s role is played by Matthew McConaughey. Nonetheless, director Paul Greengrass, who co-penned the script with Brad Ingelsby, avoids transforming it into a typical flashy disaster film.
Rather than a spectacle that channels genuine heroism into the thrilling exploits of an American action hero, the film unfolds as a chaotic journey, oscillating between heartfelt and theatrically menacing moments. The outcome is a film that captivates, though only at intervals.
“The Lost Bus” judiciously intertwines grit and glitz.
When a wildfire spreads too swiftly for firefighters to contain, school evacuations are initiated so rapidly that some parents are unable to reach their children in time. Kevin (McConaughey) is sent out with available seats and a determination to secure the kids—and Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera), their teacher—whether by navigating challenging paths or making audacious diversions.
Greengrass is dedicated to instilling dread in the film’s portrayal of fire. Scenes of a burning California community resemble a battlefield. Smoke darkens a sunny day. The flames make a once-familiar street unrecognizable. Civilians flee, screaming and even attempting to commandeer vehicles violently. This same focus on the ferocity and disarray of wildfires extends to the children aboard Kevin’s bus. While Mary and Kevin instruct them to steer clear of the windows, their faces are marked with soot, and their eyes reflect fatigue and tears.
Cinematographer Pal Ulvik Rokseth successfully communicates the fear fire should inspire through POV shots of the flames. Starting low in the underbrush, these shots initially evoke the perspective of slashers like Michael Myers, observing their unsuspecting victims. As the intensity escalates, so does the height and velocity, mimicking the wind’s rush and the flames’ spread. Ultimately, the fire’s perspective rises skyward, swooping down like a diving dragon. This technique effectively underscores the fire’s supremacy over people, who can only escape or perish.
In contrast, Greengrass seeks to anchor the rescue crews’ infrastructural drama by frequently shifting from the flame-threatened bus of children to a conference room filled with firefighters and municipal officials. These sequences are so rich in exposition that they interrupt the tension. The actors’ awkward lines in these moments may strive for naturalism but come off as clumsy—especially compared to Ferrera and McConaughey.
Even in casual attire with makeup to appear less polished and more worn, they exhibit the star power of movie icons—and the teeth, too. This is particularly distracting with McConaughey, as the film highlights his character’s poverty and neglect, yet he possesses perfectly straight, white teeth.
This might be overlooked if “The Lost Bus” were a film like “Armageddon” or “Independence Day,” where everything is amplified, including the looks of ordinary Americans. However, here, every glimpse of those gleaming whites serves as a reminder that “The Lost Bus” aspires to be grounded in its heroics while maintaining a Hollywood polish. It resembles two conflicting films, and this clash detracts from the engagement.
“The Lost Bus” subtly conveys misogyny.
Before the wildfire, Greengrass and Ingelsby highlight Kevin’s struggles. In the initial act, he encounters conflicts with his mother, ex-wife, boss, a pharmacist, and his son—most of whom are women.
Through its casting, Greengrass presents this traditionally masculine character, striving to support his family, as grappling with emasculation at every turn. His mother is a burden. His ex-wife is a nag. His boss, Ruby (Ashlie Atkinson), denies him the overtime he requires (despite her logical reasoning), and the pharmacist at a small store dares to be on the phone when he seeks assistance. Even the vet who calls to inform him that his cherished dog must be euthanized is a woman.
Beyond depicting Kevin’s numerous hurdles, this establishes him as a man needing to validate himself, to resist the female influences overwhelming him. When he encounters Mary at the school, he belittles her by referring to her as “ma’am” and “teach” rather than using her name.
Throughout