(Credit: Netflix)

If you ask me for one Netflix mystery thriller to watch right now, I’d say skip the endless scroll routine and just put on Lost Girls. But do that only when you don’t want to watch formulaic thrillers that scream for attention like a petulant toddler with dramatic music or cheap twists.

If you are going for this one, expect eerie silence, but do not mistake it for an awkward one. This extremely sharp and realistic thriller, which is also based on a true story, will stay with you even after it ends, so be prepared to have your perspective shifted from beneath your feet.

Let us walk you through the story first. Lost Girls is about a mother in search of her missing daughter while battling a community trying to cover it up; the terrifying bit being that it’s a real tale. Our harried protagonist is Mari Gilbert, played by Amy Ryan, known as the incredibly funny and batshit crazy Holly from The Office.

Mari here is frustrated to levels beyond your imagination. Part of it is because of her daughter’s disappearance, and the rest is because those who were supposed to help her, the police, the neighbours, even the wider community, seem more disinterested than a teenager at family reunions. Or maybe they are too comfortable pretending nothing happened. What should have been a straightforward investigation turns into Mari running and diving into indifference, excuses, and systemic failure.

I won’t lie, watching Mari clash with authority and shout at press conferences, I almost forgot I’m watching a performance. She makes the figure of the mother and her struggles feel familiar in the shape of someone down the street who refuses to stay quiet in the face of corruption and injustice.

What I really liked about Lost Girls is how different it is from most true-crime dramas. In the world of glamorised killers and grimy investigation plots that lead to satisfying outcomes, waving the flag of justice served, this one doesn’t give you that satisfaction of a one-track focus on the missing women and the families who keep pushing for answers.

The supporting cast makes the film even stronger. You have Thomasin McKenzie bringing in her quiet resilience, Gabriel Byrne embodying the authority figure, and Lola Kirke adding texture to the cast with her divisive play as one of the relatives of the missing. But no matter how good they are, it’s Ryan who carries the film like the storm she is.

The best part is that this one’s also a tight 90 minutes. No unnecessary subplots, no bloated runtime or unnecessary flashbacks. You start it and get hooked, and before you know it, the credits are rolling and you are left with that heavy silence in your chest.