The Lost Bus; Matthew McConaughey anchors tragic true story telling: Toronto International Film Festival Review

Paul Greengrass is a filmmaker who over the course of his career has quite masterfully tackled both the action and biographical genres; The Bourne Supremacy, The Bourne Ultimatum and Captain Phillips just a slew of examples.  For his latest, The Lost Bus, he comes close to blending the two together, looking at the everyday man and the out-of-the-ordinary decisions one has to make in the face of sure tragedy.

Though it flirts with the idea of making its central figure something of an action archetype, Greengrass’s script – written in collaboration with Brad Ingelsby, based off Lizzie Johnson‘s “Paradise: One Town’s Struggle to Survive an American Wildfire” – maintains the story’s real-life mentality, never glorifying or exaggerating the actions of Kevin McCay (Matthew McConaughey, proving a welcome return with his stoic presence), a bus driver who defied the odds and the expectations of those around him by navigating a wild fire and saving 22 school children from the surrounding burning inferno; the 2018 Californian fires described as the worst in history.

Greengrass immerses the audience and folds them into the tragedy, weaving the camera in its opening sweeps around the stray powerlines that, in their instability, are the spark that ignite the brush fire.  This sets the scene, before we settle on the ground where we meet McCay and learn of his current struggle.  After the passing of his estranged father, McCay has had to return home to Paradise, California, where he is now the sole caretaker of his elderly, ailing mother (Kay McConaughey, Matthew’s real-life mother).  Add in the butting heads with his detached teenage son (Levi McConaughey, the actor’s real-life son) in the aftermath of his divorce, and that he’s seemingly always overlooked for extra hours at work (Ashlie Atkinson as his increasing exhausted supervisor, Ruby), it’s clear that McCay’s life is hardly in a position of stability.

Despite how downtrodden the temperament of the film appears to be, Greengrass constantly laces proceedings with a true sense of tension as he alternates between McCay’s struggle and the fire that is gradually building and engulfing surroundings.  Occasionally the tension is broken when the script calls for the moments of where fire chief Ray Martinez (Yul Vasquez) is managing the fire from the inside, dispatching fire fighters and calling upon every first responder in order to keep the spread from expanding.  It makes sense to showcase such sequences to truly speak to their desperation in how they best do their jobs, but it does take away from McCay’s journey, which is ultimately what drives the film.

As he drops off his round of school children the morning of the fire, we follow McCay as he tries to maintain his job (Ruby at the end of her rope regarding his lateness during his route) and be the best father he can be.  Learning that his son is ill, he detours from returning back to the depot for a routine service to purchase some medicine, alternately pleading with his ex-wife over the phone as to why their son is ill and Ruby as to why he’s not where he should be.  We feel for him, and our investment in his plight only strengthens when, around the 40 minute mark, the narrative shifts and it’s clear he’s now the sole reason for potential survival for a class of 22 school children whose parents are unable to pick them up when the warnings go out about the severity of the fire.

The survival of McCay, the school children, and their kindly teacher, Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera), is truly what The Lost Bus banks on.  And even though, as a true story, we are aware of the outcome, it doesn’t take away the fact that we fear for their safety and become entirely emotionally invested as they drive through treacherous terrain and contend with not only the elements, but the aggressive, violently-minded locals.  There is a certain generic nature to this plotting though, and the script never really goes beyond the expected, so it’s to everyone’s benefit that McConaughey and Ferrera sell proceedings as much as they do.  There’s an obvious sense as to why McCay is so prioritised as a character, but credit must be given to Ferrera in making Mary feel like much more of a presence.  Not that Mary would have been a lesser figure in the situation, but Ferrera truly brings her to the forefront in a way that some actresses may not have.  It’s a basic archetype on paper, but someone of note in the film.

Given how real and invasive Greengrass’s direction can often be, it’s something of a surprise that for a film that has its roots so firmly in reality, the visual language feels less emotional.  It’s also far more obviously reliant on CGI, which also threatens to take away from the story’s severity; by no means is The Lost Bus a poorly directed feature, but when compared to other Greengrass efforts it can’t help but feel more common than it truly should.

A true story telling that executes its emotion suitably, but misses the mark on entirely encapsulating its aspirations, The Lost Bus is as effective as it is because it has McConaughey as its centre.  He grounds the film and keeps us invested, even when it flirts with manipulative tendencies or focuses on some outside factors that feel more necessary for exposition.  Nothing can be taken away from the pure tragedy of it all though, and regardless of how structured or expected some of it feels as a film, the tenacity and will to survive from someone in McCay’s position is a grand reminder of the human spirit and valuing the one life we have to live.

THREE AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)

The Lost Bus is screening as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, running between September 4th and 14th, 2025.  For more information on the festival, head to the official site here.

The Lost Bus is scheduled to release globally on Apple TV+ on October 3rd, 2025.

Peter Gray

Seasoned film critic and editor. Gives a great interview. Penchant for horror. Unashamed fan of Michelle Pfeiffer and Jason Momoa. Contact: [email protected]