Title: Miller’s Girl
Describe This Movie Using One “Hot For Teacher” Lyric:
VAN HALEN:ย I think of all the education that I’ve missed
But then my homework was never quite like this
Brief Plot Synopsis:ย Teacher/student liaisons are always an Humbert-able possibility.
Rating Using Random Objects Relevant To The Film:ย 2.5 Gordon Sumners out of 5.

Tagline:ย “Write what you want.”
Better Tagline:ย “But not that.”
Not So Brief Plot Synopsis:ย Jonathan Miller (Martin Freeman) is a one-time author who now teaches English in a Tennessee high school and whose existence is barely acknowledged by worka/alco-holic wife Beatrice (Dagmara Dominczyk). Enter Cairo Sweet (Jenna Ortega), a precocious senior at said high school with a more than academic interest in Mr. Miller. When Cairo takes her midterm short story assignment in an unexpectedly provocative direction, it spells trouble for her and Mr. Miller. Mostly the latter.
“Critical” Analysis:ย You have to hand it to writer/director Jade Halley Bartlett:ย not many first time filmmakers would use their debut feature to tell a story about burgeoning adolescent sexuality and how it collides with middle-aged male inadequacy. Unfortunately, Miller’s Girlย fails to deliver on early promise and eventually sinks under the weight of Cairo’s pretentiousness and Bartlett’s unwillingness to go all the way. As it were.
You get plenty of the former in the opening scene, when “18 and unremarkable” Cairo, who lives alone thanks to absentee parents, describes herself as “wearing longing like a fucking veil.” She is, like many cinematic nymphets, intellectually remarkable yet inexperienced in the ways of the flesh. And if you think that last sentence was as skeevy to write as it was for you to read, you’d be right.
Bartlett does a fine job emasculating Miller, for what it’s worth. Beatrice’s arc carries her through bored indifference to outright venom, while Cairo finally overcomes her infatuation (thanks in large part to his rejection) and scornfully realizes Miller maybe isn’t the best choice for a relationship, physical or otherwise.
Though Miller doesn’t need much help in that regard. He should’ve stopped with calling Cairo “exceptionally talented,” but instead attends poetry readings with his student, enjoys “close talks” with her in the true Seinfeld-ian sense of the phrase, and talks her up to Beatrice, which would be a red flag to any spouse. Any spouse who gives a shit about their marriage, anyway.
The emergency brake really needed to be deployed when Cairo tells him her favorite author is that other Miller: Henry. Maybe stick to the curriculum guidance forbidding his work when assigning the “write a short story in the style of your favorite author” homework? We might want to ascribe fiendish motives to Cairo, thanks to the lack of adult supervision or the fact her only friend Winnie (Gideon Adlon) is actively trying to seduce Coach Fillmore (Bashir Salahuddin as one of the movie’s few bright spots); remember Miller encourages all of this.

Because Miller’s Girlย has a tendency to swing too far into painting Cairo as the baddie, especially toward the end. What starts out as overwrought expressions of adolescent angst turns into angry obsession, though we’re spared any rabbit boiling or the like. Still, the brief forays into unhingedness(?) are enough to introduce the idea that Cairo is entirely to blame.
Which is laughable since it’s so hard to feel much sympathy for any of the supposed grown-ups. Coach Fillmore laughs off sexts from a *high school student*, while Beatrice appears to be constantly drunk and lounging in her undergarments like Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
I mean, they are in Tennessee.
But Bartlett’s first film does look good, and makes excellent use of the languorous setting, but the pacing and dialogue all hint at a conclusion that never arrives. By the time Cairo asserts that she’sย “grown from human ruins,” all you’re really reminded of is how embarrassing your old high school journals are.
Miller’s Girl is in theaters today.
This article appears in Jan 1 โ Dec 31, 2024.
