When someone tries to tell me how well the American economy is doing, I feel like asking if they are aware of how many people in this great economy rely on food banks and how many can’t afford a place to live. I actually don’t, usually, because I don’t need to hear anyone’s BS justification for why if someone is not making it here, it’s their own fault. You have to pick your battles, and that’s one that’s just not worth fighting most of the time.
Stephanie Laing’s Tow (11/8/2025, Greenfinch Theatre and Dive, 2525 S. Jefferson Ave., 12 pm) is fighting the good fight for me by telling the story of how a person who’s pretty much like you or I can suffer a misfortune that is compounded through no fault of their own and life turns into a tale that sounds like it’s meant to be satire but in fact is just some a story of what can happen when governments allow private companies to target vulnerable people, resulting in them being trapped in a cycle of poverty. Remember the scandal a few years ago regarding excessive fines and even jail sentences for minor infractions levied by some St. Louis county municipalities, leaving people with debts they were likely to never be able to pay? The story told in Tow is similar, although in this case a city contractor rather than the city itself plays the role of the big bad.
Tow opens with a title card informing us that “It is estimated that there are between 1-3 million vehicular residents across the country on any given night. This is one woman’s story.” If you didn’t catch the meaning of the euphemism, they’re referring to people living and sleeping in their car. Such as Amanda Ogle (Rose Byrne), a Seattle resident upon whose story Tow is based.
Amanda is a hot mess when we first meet her: homeless, turned down for a not-that-great job, estranged from her teenage daughter Avery (Elsie Fisher, who looks remarkably like she could be Byrne’s child), and reported by a two-bit wannabe cop for “vehicular loitering” i.e., sleeping in her car while parked on the street after the homeless shelter where she expected to spend the night was full. Just when it seems like things might be looking up, her car is stolen, plunging her into an even worse nightmare that requires her to fight for over a year (the progression of days shown through title cards) to get it back, only to be presented with a bill amounting to more than a year’s tuition at Mizzou or the annual rent on a very nice apartment in most American cities–for “housing” a car.
Cinematographer Vanja Cernjul shoots Tow in a gritty, realistic style with a muted palette. Two locations in New Jersey, Cranford and Bayonne, stand in for Seattle, so don’t expect to catch a glimpse of the Pike Place Market or the Space Needle. But you wouldn’t have seen it if the film wasn’t shot in Seattle, because Amanda wouldn’t be hanging around tourist destinations, while the urban fringes where she does spend her time before getting into a homeless shelter probably look similarly hopeless in much of the country. The hair and makeup department, led by Sarit Klein and Pamela May, also deserve a shoutout for how realistically the shifts in Amanda’s fortunes can be read on her face.
While Tow is definitely Amanda’s story, several other characters make a strong impression in supporting roles. Those include Corbin Bernsen and Dominic Sessa as dueling lawyers, Elsie Fisher as Amanda’s budding fashion designer daughter, Octavia Spencer as the hardline manager of a homeless shelter, and Ariana DeBose, Demi Lovato, and Lea DeLaria (in a cameo) as homeless shelter residents. | Sarah Boslaugh
The 34th Annual Whitaker St. Louis International Film Festival runs Nov. 6-16, 2025 at various locations around St. Louis. Single film tickets are $15 for general admission, $12 for Cinema St. Louis members and students with valid current photo IDs. Multi-film and all-access passes are also available. Further information is available from the Cinema St. Louis web site.
