THE LOST
(Anchor Bay, 2006)

By Barry Meyer

Movieland has caught up with Jack Ketchum… finally. With two feature films based on his novels already out, and a third on the way, Ketchum’s trip to the big screen has been long overdue.

“Once upon a time… ” reads the title card at the opening of The Lost, “there was a boy named Ray Pye, who stuck crushed beer cans in his cowboy boots to make him look taller.” 

Cut to teenaged Ray stalking through the woods with a beer-can limp, strutting to the catchy beat of a 60s pop tune. The boots skid to a halt when a pretty young camper exits an outhouse, wide-eyed and without a stitch of clothing.  Of all the luck, eh!  But, this possible Penthouse Forum moment turns sour – bitter sour – when Pye, after following the girl to her campsite, discovers her kissing another girl.  Not happy with his diminished prospects, Pye teaches the gals a lesson at the nasty end of a hunting rifle.

This is the introduction to Ray Pye, easily one of the most disturbing villains to creep from the screen in a long time.  Percolating with wild glee, Pye’s narcissism is driven by an overwhelming sense of desperation and insecurity. He lines his eyes with mascara and decorates his cheek with a fake mole to make himself more noticeable.  And it works well, getting him laid by all the pretty girls in town.  But it’s the ones that he can’t bed that really drive him batty.

When young and not-all-that-innocent Sally Richmond (Megan Henning) comes to work at the motel owned by Pye’s parents, Ray swoops in with flamboyant amorous gestures.  Sally is all too aware of Pye’s dangerous past – her older beau is one of the cops who failed to pin the murders of the two campers on the boy – so she does her best to keep a distance.  Naturally, this only drives Pye crazy.  It’s not that he’s want for gratification -- he’s got his steady Jennifer, who willingly endures his womanizing ways, and he’s got the a girl, Katherine, who mesmerizes him with her seductive lack of inhibition.  But none of that matters if he can’t have Sally Richmond. Fueled by obsession and driven to paranoia by the unrelenting cops, Ray Pye is about to lead the audience on an unrelenting ride that ends with a shocking and violent climax that will leave even the most cynical genre fan shaken.

A Ketchum story just begs for the true independent treatment that worked so well with 70s genre flicks like Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave. The visceral nature of The Lost surely would’ve gotten lost in the tangles of Hollywood style filmmaking. For one thing, director Chris Siverston (a friend of Exec. Producer Lucky McKee) wouldn’t have found actor Marc Senter.  As Ray Pye, Senter is a revelation. Part Crispin Glover, part River Pheonix, Senter is able to cast a shadow of sincere vulnerability upon a character so heinous and crude to create a big screen villain who can only be known as Ray Pye.

As expected from an indie film, there are some faults (the story pacing, especially with the subplots, is scattered; some cast members seem out of their element), but overall The Lost is a shocking treat that grabs you roughly by the hair and drags you face first into its violent world. You can’t escape it. This is the beauty (and horror) of a Ketchum story.