Although he has said earlier that he “doesn’t give a shit” about anything his teenage daughter does, a drug-addicted waste case of a father asks her what she plans to do with her life. “Get a bunch of tattoos, get pregnant, and get fat,” she mockingly answers. But the actual and unspoken answer lingers in the air between them: “And take care of you until you finally die.”

Mickey Peck (Camila Morrone) is saddled with a lying, excuse-making dad who is cruel, entitled, and a danger to himself and others. What will it take for Mickey to shed her father and break free of a stifling small-town life? Annabelle Attanasio‘s debut feature probes the question in a taut, wary slow burn, 

The first five minutes set the bleak tone and plot. A motionless camera takes in a windblown, borderline deserted Montana townscape. The instant she wakes up in the morning, Mickey has to bail her father, Hank (James Badge Dale), out of a DUI in a ritual she, her dad, the sheriff, and in fact the whole town have grown wearily accustomed to. A Marine veteran possibly afflicted with PTSD but certainly dogged by drugs and booze, Hank will go on to break every promise of fatherhood and the Golden Rule itself, every which way he can. Attanasio tosses in a few scenes to evoke the redeeming, overfamiliar trope of “One sees flashes of the old charm that once made this character a contender.” Well, some of us won’t.

In the rare interludes when Mickey isn’t cleaning up after Dad’s disasters or stealing drugs to keep him from exploding into violence, she looks around her to imagine a way ahead. The deceptively simple moments where the camera monitors Mickey silently reviewing her options are among the movie’s best—an empathetic peering into a mind struggling to find its way to any kind of freedom.

The film’s grittiness feels authentic, although it hovers close in places to poverty porn. The Pecks’ home is rundown, the local bars almost fashionably forlorn and seedy. Mountains forbiddingly hem in human activity. As well as her grim surroundings, Mickey has to struggle with a controlling teenage boyfriend who hides neediness beneath macho bravado just like dear old dad.

Alliances form in places we and Mickey don’t expect; a tough doctor (Rebecca Henderson) offers sympathy while stating bluntly where she thinks a future with Hank is going to lead. And Mickey’s heart opens up with the arrival of Wyatt, a handsome, laid-back British student (Calvin Demba), somewhat implausibly attending Mickey’s school. He will delicately nudge Mickey toward greater possibilities, at least until darkness mounts to a point where she has to act.

Mickey and the Bear’s scope is limited, but the film turns and mulls over its dilemmas in a way that wisely doesn’t reveal too much. An eclectic soundtrack reinforces the somber mood, only to break out into unexpected directions that channel the high spirits of youth. We don’t know what Mickey’s future will be. We do know it can’t possibly be worse than the predicament she’s trapped in now. For that alone we’re grateful.