Lily McInerny and Jonathan Tucker in Palm Trees and Power Lines (Momentum Pictures)

We enter a listless small town in Southern California. Teenagers sunbathe, smoke, gossip, play around with Snapchat and Instagram, and have sex in the backseats of cars. They, at least, have the energy to laugh and play, even if we often see them staring off into dead space. The adults seem infinitely tired, with little else to do but dig themselves deeper into preexisting dead ends. Sandra (Gretchen Mol), the mother of 17-year-old Lea (Lily McInerny), is one such person. She struggles to get out of bed in the morning, and also constantly revives relationships with boyfriends she barely likes. Lea can’t stand her mother’s depression, and her frustration drives her deeper into a sense of disconnect with everything around her. Often we see her listening to music in isolation by the power lines.

After her friends bail at a diner, leaving her and Amber (Quinn Frankel) to cover the bill, a handsome older man, Tom (Jonathan Tucker), comes to Lea’s rescue. He follows her in his car as she walks home, and manages to get her to exchange numbers. Their attraction is clear from the outset, but Lea makes the overture of appearing responsible, telling the 34-year-old that it’s not wise to talk to strangers, and he makes the overture of moving slow(ish). When they later kiss for the first time, under a star-filled sky, he asks for her consent, and does not try to kiss her more. He asks her questions about herself, and shows every sign that he is listening to her answers. Lea, quickly enthralled, avoids her friends and mother to spend time with him. Before too long, though, we can see disaster coming as she finds herself in dangerous situations she did not anticipate.

This is the story of how a lonely, teenage girl is groomed and exploited by an older man. Stories of handsome men with dangerous, predatory leanings are at least as old as “Bluebeard,” and the past decade, especially since Trump’s election, has seen many of them. In cinema, it is a genre that includes genuine masterpieces: Lucrecia Martel’s The Holy Girl, Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank, and Catherine Breillat’s Fat Girl, to name a few. In these films and in others, the director manages to confront the horror of the situation while also spinning a web out of the contradictory emotions it gives rise to. Palm Trees and Power Lines, alas, does not join their company.

The film is ambitious, and there are aspects to recommend. Director Jamie Dack has an eye for atmosphere, and some of the details (songs playing in near empty diners, for instance) are resonant. The drama, admirably, does not judge its young protagonist, and bravely gives the viewer no solace.  McInerny’s acting is at times very good, especially in the most disturbing scenes. Frankel is strong as well, playing Amber with an easy, naturalistic manner that comes across as believable.

Manohla Dargis has already expressed doubt that a contemporary teenager who is on her phone so much would fall for such an obvious ploy as Tom’s, when there are so many viral TikTok videos about how to spot human trafficking. I think this is valid criticism. However, even if this story were set before the existence of smartphones, I still don’t think it would be convincing. Most of it is so undercooked that the characters might as well be made of cardboard. They baldly state what is on their mind with no subtlety, which, in a naturalistic film like this one, does not work. They ask questions crucial to the plot with equal obviousness, making the movie feel like a routine exercise in exposition. Tom comes across as a series of warning signs and nothing more. Lea, though she is played with genuine emotion by McInerny, also feels underexplored, having little to give her defining features other than sadness and listlessness. One wonders how a director brave enough to confront the darkness of this story could have such little interest in its people.

As such, Palm Trees and Power Lines comes across as a hollow, though sometimes horrifying, portrait of abuse rather than an insightful exploration.