A mesmerizing Florence Pugh contemplates miracles in The Wonder

Lelio establishes that ticking clock with masterful pacing, lending thriller-like urgency to what is otherwise a solemn character study. As he did in his daring Disobedience, Lelio offers up plenty of grappling with doctrine. And, as with Daniela Vega in his Oscar-winning A Fantastic Woman, he creates compelling interiority for his leading lady. Earlier this year in Don’t Worry Darling, Pugh made something out of nothing by unspooling another, far clumsier mystery; she’s making a name for herself playing unapologetically assertive women and proves a wonderful fit for a restrained historical piece centered on one. And she deftly cedes the spotlight, especially in an emotional knockout of a later scene that confirms Cassidy is a rising star to watch.

There’s an underwritten romance and a few familiar beats to Lib’s backstory that cause the character to succumb to some Hollywoodization, suggesting Lelio and co-writers Alice Birch and Emma Donoghue (the latter penned the 2016 novel of the same name) are filling in motivations for her increasingly desperate actions. This story’s time and place provide more than enough reason for desperation, as do the claustrophobic compositions from cinematographer Ari Wegner; much like in Donoghue’s Room, in fact, there’s a palpable sense that confined spaces can be both suffocating and intimate. If there’s one indelible takeaway from this film, it’s production designer Grant Montgomery’s somber interiors, with pale sun or candlelight failing to stretch across sickly green walls.

The real wonders in The Wonder are those visuals combined with Matthew Herbert’s ethereal music, which imbues the wailing strings you might expect from a period drama with modern, even electronic-esque sounds. That contemporary element echoes the meta flourishes that bookend this tale, on which mileage will vary—bold framing devices are welcome, but why this one should be delivered by Niamh Algar, playing a character mostly insignificant to this plot, is a tad puzzling. Yet in today’s age of media misinformation, as Judi Dench calls for The Crown to specify it’s a work of fiction, hell, why not coax 21st century skeptics into connecting with 19th century devotees?

What’s extraordinary (to this nonbeliever at least) about this story’s third act is that it solves the central mystery without sacrificing Lelio’s atmospheric ambiguity. Where The Wonder could easily opt for a vague middle ground—Mulder seeing God or Scully losing faith in science—it instead commits to an explanation behind Anna’s sanctity. Spoiler alert: There is no miracle. But when the credits roll, why does it feel like we’ve witnessed something miraculous? It’s a disarming trick that mirrors Lib’s journey of self-discovery. Lelio has guided us along a spiritual path that ends up firmly in our earthly realm, yet somehow what lingers is more magic than realism.