Director Paul Greengrass’ blistering The Lost Bus is an unexpectedly haunting watch. The double-broiler of a disaster thriller traps you inside the smoky prison of Northern California’s 2018 Camp Fire, the deadliest Golden State wildfire in history. But don’t expect San Andreas or Volcano, disaster movies where entertainment is paramount. Greengrass wants audiences to inhale every toxin, curse Pacific Gas and Electric Company’s company name, and succumb to the breadth of Mother Nature’s catastrophic retaliations. Drama comes first, the script shoving guilt-ridden parental tropes down your throat, but Greengrass never allows it to snuff out the overwhelming environmental fury on display.
Matthew McConaughey stars as a Butte County school bus driver whose life is in shambles. Within the first few minutes, Kevin McKay argues with his teenage son Shaun (played by McConaughey’s actual child, Levi), euthanizes his cancer-stricken dog, and confesses his depleted finances. Kevin needs a win, to feel even the slightest validation, which comes in the heat of a terrible moment. As a wildfire blazes toward the NorCal territory of Paradise, Kevin’s operating the only yellow bus available to transport 20-odd students and their teacher—Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera)—to a safe pickup location. However, with no radio or cell service, Kevin has no idea that the evacuation zones have widened, and he’s headed straight toward disaster.
While The Last Bus is a fetching display of everyday heroism, Kevin’s melodrama can be excessively cumbersome. Greengrass and his co-writer Brad Ingelsby subject Kevin to sadness and failure at an almost farcical clip. The death of his estranged father, caretaking for his disabled mother (played by McConaughey’s mom, Kay), catching a stray “I hate you, dad!” from Shaun—just a mere taste. As the film advances, phone calls from his ex-wife and continued reminders of his poor fatherhood border on manipulative. It’s all aiming a wayward loser toward his redeeming climax, breaking a character to build his rebirth, yet the manufactured interpersonal hurt accumulates like the thick clouds of smoke.
However, The Lost Bus somehow remains effective—its disaster-drama split impressively staying on course—with Greengrass doing a tremendous job amplifying the perilous stakes of the driver and his precious cargo. It’s not just McConaughey’s white-knuckled performance, clutching the wheel as mounting spot fires threaten to turn Kevin’s vehicle into a mobile oven. The elementary-aged children generate an authentically adolescent nervousness that McConaughey feeds off of, dragging his paternal instincts to the surface. Ferrera’s teacher softens his harshness, as her coddling classroom approach and outward composure combat his worst tendencies.
Cinematographer Pal Ulvik Rokseth gels with Greengrass’ kinetic, in-your-face style, engulfing his frames in billowing fumes and raging infernos. The aesthetic switches between crisp auburn-kissed digital and grainy, shot-on-film views that get closer to the action. It’s not always a clean transition between these distinct visual approaches, but the differing shooting methods have their place. There’s a beauty in the glowing embers swirling around Kevin’s bus, and a chaotic fervor as frazzled, more intimate shots—almost like home video replications of real events—stoke the film’s intensity.
Similarly intense is the film’s broad commentary, which puts PG&E in the crosshairs. Yul Vazquez as Cal Fire’s battalion chief Ray Martinez oozes untempered disdain for corporate stooges, including a dagger-like press conference outro. The script’s anti-business messaging takes every chance to (rightfully) blame PG&E’s reckless power-line upkeep for the charred remains of entire communities, and ends with PG&E settling for $13.5 billion with wildfire victims. The script loudly advocates for boardroom accountability during an increasingly oligarchic time, but such unrelenting disdain also distracts from Kevin’s courageous maneuvers aboard that bus.
When it’s focused, The Lost Bus is a rousing, sweaty gaze into the barrel of a flamethrower. There are flickers of Dante’s Peak and Daylight as Greengrass keeps the momentum barreling forward, the weight of the true events uplifting the awe-striking gravity of one man’s unwillingness to let anyone else down. Without that grandeur—that Hollywood-sheen take on storybook resilience—the film’s uneven application of sad-sack strife might extinguish McConaughey’s guiding performance. But Greengrass’ throwback disaster-movie efforts, plus a healthy fury induced by our harmful ecological footprint, keeps feeding this fire.
Director: Paul Greengrass
Writer: Paul Greengrass, Brad Ingelsby
Starring: Matthew McConaughey, America Ferrera, Yul Vazquez, Ashlie Atkinson
Release Date: September 19, 2025; October 3, 2025 (Apple TV+)
