🎬 1. Premise That Promised Quirk, Delivered Disinterest
At its core, Starlet offers a deceptively sweet setup: Jane (Dree Hemingway), a not-quite Hollywood hopeful working at a kitschy vintage store in Lancaster, California, befriends elderly Sadie (Besedka Johnson) after accidentally taking the wrong purse home. We expect an unconventional road trip of emotional growth, generational connection, or charming mishaps. What we get is something more like sipping lukewarm tea in a sterile waiting room and being told it’s called “quirky.”
Instead of riveting character arcs, the story lurches forward in fits and starts—conversations fall flat, emotional beats trail off mid-air, and the weight of the relationships never lands. The chemistry is more like static cling than chemistry.
👥 2. Characters That Feel Like Movie Props
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Jane: A twenty-something dreamer in cut-off denim shorts, pastel cardigans, and waiting-for-her-big-break stares. Hemingway’s Jane is polite, almost eerily so. She’s charming enough, but without friction, ambition, or regret. She’s the kind of character who might throw a plot twist if she ever noticed she was in one.
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Sadie: Johnson’s Sadie is perhaps the film’s most intriguing mystery. She’s forgetful, occasionally caustic, and wryly funny. You sense a buried life story, but instead of digging in, the script treats her like a quirky annotation—more laugh line than tragedy.
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Adam (Chris Schellenger): A young safety enthusiast who sells CPR certifications to pool owners. He is Larry David meets CPR manual—dry, awkward, socially stunted. He’s a potential love interest for Jane, but only in that he shares her inertia. The spark? Not included.
Each character is drawn in outline only—just recognizable enough to speak and breathe, but not deep enough to make us feel for them.
🚶 3. Plot That Meanders Like Road Construction
From purse-swapping mix-ups to improbable roommates, Starlet trudges along the edges of narrative interest. Jane shops for bright pajamas, then drives Sadie around looking for insulin. There are sequences—pool-flirting, backyard barbecues—that suggest narrative potential, but they’re abandoned before heat builds. Moments that could be heartwarming instead feel aimless. Scenes that could be meaningful are just filler in pastel-filtered spaces.
Even the film’s climax—Jane confronting her exploitation besides Sweet Jane’s porn star past—lands with the emotional impact of an empty diaper. We watch potential drama walk off set and never return.
💬 4. Dialogue That Echoes Like a Waitress’s “Everything OK?”
The speech in Starlet is polite, minimal, and rarely vulnerable. Jane: “You want me to stay?” Said like she’s asking permission to pet a cat. Sadie: “I’d rather hold onto this.” Delivered like she’s talking about her dryer receipt. Adam: “That CPR thing saved me once.” But do we feel it? Nope.
The copious silences take the role of emotional weight. Yet without context, shadowy pauses just feel… empty. It’s subtlety without subtext.
🎭 5. Tone That Refuses to Commit
Is it drama? Road-trip dramedy? Quiet indie gem? Starlet floats in neutral tone—never leaning into emotion, laughter, or reflection. It wants to be sweet, but holds back; wants tension, but never breaks a sweat. A neutral-tone film about neutrality is… well, neutral.
🎨 6. Sound and Sight That Soften Everything… To Death
Director Sean Baker is known for raw authenticity (Tangerine, The Florida Project), but here he opts for soft pastels and quiet, gentle exteriors. Cinematography favors bright California sunlight filtered through dusty thrift-shop windows. Score is minimal, near-silent. Interiors are cluttered with secondhand bric-a-brac—nicely decorated, but they suffocate the characters. The aesthetic choices feel intentionally low-key, but end up blanketing the story in lukewarm ambiance.
💡 7. Themes That Slip Away Like Bent Out of Shape Sunglasses
What could have been a thoughtful exploration of aging, exploitation, or grief becomes a study in “what if.” Jane, a struggling actress with a porn past, is ripe for internal conflict, yet the script brushes over it. Sadie’s memory loss begs questions about mortality and connection. Adam’s CPR certification could signal fear and fragility—but none of this is interrogated. It’s high-concept without excavation.
We sense depth. We never dig. The characters are stranded on the surface—like driftwood collecting dust in the sun.
🙁 8. Performances That Hover Just Below Engagement
Besedka Johnson, an actual 86-year-old making her film debut, is the beating (if fragile) heart of Starlet. Her slight smile and offbeat wisdom are gold—even if the script treats her like background noise. Seeing her is like spotting fresh flowers at a bus stop.
Dree Hemingway, by contrast, is on cruise control. Jane’s lost dreams never feel close enough to justify emotional payoff. She’s earnest, not soulful, polite not raw. We never sense the stakes.
Chris Schellenger gives us awkward charm—but his social performance feels slightly disconnected, like a man who moonlights as a role-player at Renaissance fairs.
🕰 9. The Deflating “Conclusion”
The final moments—Jane puts her feet in Sadie’s pool, claims she learned something, Sadie undresses and steps toward a pool light—are meant to evoke warmth or insight. Instead, they ask: Did anything really change? Did the characters learn anything more than “be polite”? The film mumbles “Yeah… that.” Pass the remote.
🚨 10. Final Verdict: Minimalist Mood, Maximum Miss
Rating: 1.5 out of 5 thrift-store records with no grooves
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Concept: Promising, but never cared to dive
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Characters: Present but undercooked
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Plot: Meandering, empty at the core
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Dialogue: Sparse, polite, forgettable
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Execution: Soft aesthetics, softer impact
👀 TL;DR
Starlet is indie gentleness masquerading as introspection. It’s like being offered a silk scarf instead of a hug: smooth, pretty, yet unexpectedly empty. Watch it if you’re in the mood for mood—but don’t expect warmth. For anyone craving real character arcs or emotional investment, this follows the outline, but misses the drawing.
