Frances Pugh is the gravitational force of this film; not simply filling the role, but her presence consuming the other characters, the building to which she is confined for most of the film and the shots she inhabits even when silent. In that respect, it's a performance that reminds me of Glenn Close's brilliant turn as the central character in The Wife, a role and film that have more similarities to this than one might first think. That's not to say her performance is greedy - far from it, it has a remarkably understated power; and the rest of the cast act without ego, with great subtlety to all how her to shine in the way in which her role demands. The purpose of the title is only occasionally and vaguely apparent for much of the film, but comes into horrible and brilliant focus in the final act; it's a title the central character earns. But it's the silences that haunt the most and lend this film its creeping power - the background silence of a stately home in the middle of rural northern England; the silence of the house itself; the silence of key characters; and most of all Florence Pugh's silence as she fills the screen, motionless and noiseless in a series of near but not quite identical shots that punctuate the film like refrains, lending a quiet kind of awe to the devastating ending.
