Pieces of Her

Toni Collette masterfully anchors the new Netflix mystery-thriller series as a seemingly mundane woman whose dark past threatens to upend the life of her and her daughter.

Toni Collette is such a marvel, really one of the best screen actresses working over the last 20 years or so. She’s something of an Australian Meryl Streep, someone who can do it all, exceling in lead or supporting roles, features films or television, everything from historical dramas to romantic comedies to horror and back again.

“Pieces of Her,” a new eight-episode streaming series from Netflix that debuts March 4, is a fitting showcase for Collette’s considerable talents.

It’s in the mystery-thriller spectrum, as she plays a seemingly mundane middle-aged woman living in Belle Isle, Ga., whose dark past catches up with her and threatens to engulf her entire life, and that of her daughter. Think “A History of Violence” with some themes and plot points of “The Departed” mixed in.

But what makes it really sing is that it’s also a deep-dive character study. Collette explores the inner world of Laura Oliver, a woman who has been living under another identity for 30 years, never knowing who to trust and as a result pushing away everyone who matters to her. And we also get to see Jessica Barden play the same character as a young woman, showing us who she was and how she came to be seemingly an entirely different person.

The other leg of this triad of strong female characters is Bella Heathcote as her daughter, Andy. As the story opens she’s turning 30 and seems stuck in neutral in life, working as a 911 dispatcher for the tiny local law enforcement agency. She moved back home a few years back to take care of Laura when she had breast cancer, and never really left.

Laura cares deeply for her daughter, but is not above practicing some tough, seemingly even callous, love. She thinks Andy is the bird in need of leaving the nest, and is ready to give her the necessary push.

Everything changes during a random, horrific act of violence in which Laura is celebrated as a heroine for preventing further bloodshed. It’s also a peek into her past that demonstrates the fiftysomething woman, who works rehabilitating wounded veterans, is not a total stranger to bloodletting herself.

What ensues over the next eight episodes of the series, adapted from the book by Karin Slaughter, is a complicated cross-country dance/chase that involves a lot of faces who may prove to be threats or allies to both Andy and Laura, and they must puzzle out who they can trust and who they can’t — including each other.

There’s Charlie (always-solid Gil Birmingham), an old family friend who looks after mother and daughter… in more than a purely personal capacity. Jason Quellar (David Wenham), a pharmaceuticals billionaire and politician in the running to be vice president who lends Andy a hand and some history about her family. Gordon (Omari Hardwick), an attorney and Laura’s ex-husband, who’s been as much of a father figure as Andy has known. Michael (Jacob Scipio), a smoldering dude in a bar Andy bumps into while on the lam and lets her guard down for, with unexpected results.

In flashbacks we meet Laura’s father, Martin (Terry O'Quinn), who encouraged her musical talents but in a way that somehow crosses over from supportive to tyrannical. Her brother, Andrew (Nicholas Burton), a generous and gentle soul who we know early on did not survive to the modern setting. And Nick (Joe Dempsie), a dark and charismatic presence who came into her family’s life and upended everything, leading to the reason she went into hiding in the first place — and possibly the figure behind the new threats.

The pacing is strong in the first four episodes, though grows a little languid for the next couple before picking up again in the last two. There are lots of twists and surprises, and if anything I felt like the storytelling occasionally relied too much on reversals and trying to fake the audience out when just laying it straight would do.

Still, this is engrossing storytelling with three strong lead actress performances, and Collette anchoring things in the middle. It’s a stark and masterful turn, and not a particularly sympathetic one, either.

Collette never tries to make Laura “relatable” for its own sake, instead showing us all our faults and cracks, allowing just enough vulnerability for us to gradually understand why she acts the way she does, and thereby build empathy.

“Pieces of Her” is like a jigsaw puzzle that’s been scattered on the ground in front of us, shows us a few compelling images to lure us in, and then gradually assembles the wayward elements into a complete, and eminently satisfying, whole.