“Grief – there is no roadmap for that shit.”​

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That line – delivered midway through Echo Valley by Fiona Shaw – is the emotional compass of this taut, twisty, handsomely crafted Apple TV+ thriller from director Michael Pearce (Beast) and writer Brad Ingelsby (Mare of Easttown).

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Set against the lush, lonely hills of rural Pennsylvania, it’s less about mystery than emotional survival: how far will a mother go to protect her daughter when the world has already taken so much.

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Julianne Moore plays Kate Garrett, a woman quietly holding herself together after a series of losses. She’s divorced, still grieving the death of her wife, and running a horse farm that barely pays the bills. Her estranged, junkie daughter Claire (Sydney Sweeney) crashes back into her life one night – frightened, bloodied, and claiming her boyfriend is dead in the back of her car.

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What follows is a slow-burn unraveling – both external and internal – as Kate is forced into choices no parent ever wants to face.

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Moore is typically hypnotic here. It’s not a loud performance and there are no grand speeches or sweeping breakdowns, but she grounds the film with quiet strength and emotional precision. Kate is someone who’s been carrying grief for too long, and Moore shows us what that looks like with grace and gravity.

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Sweeney, continuing to carve out one of the more unpredictable careers of her generation, turns in a raw, unvarnished performance. Claire is volatile, physically brittle, and emotionally jagged. This isn’t a glamorous role, but Sweeney makes her fully human, even in her worst moments.

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Domhnall Gleeson adds tension as Jackie, a local drug dealer whose search for missing drugs quickly turns to blackmail. His calm menace keeps the stakes high, but Echo Valley wisely avoids the usual genre pitfalls. This isn’t a shootout kind of thriller – it’s more restrained, more interested in emotional claustrophobia than action beats.

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Visually, the film is a stunner. Cinematographer Benjamin Kracun (Promising Young Woman) brings soft, natural light to the wide rural landscapes and cramped stables, while editor Maya Maffioli keeps the pace purposeful. Composer Jed Kurzel’s score is sparse and moody, complementing the film’s bruised, emotional tone.

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A late twist lands a little too neatly, but still makes for a satisfying conclusion. If the film has any flaws, it’s in writing that’s smart but not razor sharp, and plotting that feels just a bit too familiar.

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Echo Valley doesn’t reinvent the genre, but it mostly doesn’t have to. It’s content to explore its characters, their history, and their damage with care and patience.

Moore carries the film. Sweeney gives it teeth. And together, they make Echo Valley a dense and atmospheric thriller about what happens when grief becomes a way of life – and what a mother’s love can survive.