'The Lost Bus' Review: Unsung Heroes, Unflinching Resolve

HOLLYWOOD, CA — The power of the human spirit blazes a trail of heroism, courage and determination in Paul Greengrass' disaster film “The Lost Bus.” Adapted from Lizzie Johnson's nonfiction account “Paradise: One Town's Struggle to Survive an American Wildfire,” the movie recounts the real-life rescue efforts during the 2018 Camp Fire — the deadliest wildfire in California history. In this latest work, Greengrass trades political milieu for a catastrophic inferno, bringing his signature realism to a new front line — one besieged by nature’s fury.

Clock ticking. Flames raging. Escape routes vanishing. Smoke thickening. Every swerve a gamble. An oil tank ready to explode.

The tension is relentless — not merely disaster, but survival in motion. What unfolds is a crucible of courage, pulsing between panic and resolve.

At the center of it all is a school bus packed with 22 children, driven by Kevin McKay (Matthew McConaughey) and steadied by Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera) — two ordinary people thrust into extraordinary peril.

McConaughey sheds his star persona, injecting subtlety and strength in equal measure. He portrays Kevin, a school bus driver, with grit and tenacity — soaked in stillness, weathered, calm but never languid. His gaze flickers with hope against hope behind the wheel, summoning every ounce of courage within.

Ferrera brings maternal ferocity and unrelenting composure to teacher Mary. Together, their chemistry is forged in valor, pulsing at the heart of the narrative. Every glance, breath and moment of silence is impenetrable as they navigate the children to safety.

Greengrass directs “The Lost Bus” with impeccable restraint and handheld realism. He plunges viewers into the pandemonium without sacrificing emotional clarity. As in his previous films “Captain Phillips” and “United 93,” he orchestrates tension with precision, letting silence and stillness speak louder than spectacle — only this time, the flames press in from every angle and the smoke chokes every frame.

Using handheld cameras and natural lighting, cinematographer Pål Ulvik Rokseth captures the immediacy of the crisis, pulling audiences into the inferno's epicenter. Inside the bus, tight framing and muted tones reinforce a claustrophobic, scorched mise en scène — a visual echo of the chaos closing in on those trapped within.

James Newton Howard’s restrained atmospheric score, and the film’s immersive sound design elevate “The Lost Bus” to a full-bodied sensory experience. The diegetic soundscape — rustling wind, distant sirens, crackling flames and the deafening roar of fire — grounds the chaos in a terrifying authenticity. Howard’s music, meanwhile, doesn’t overwhelm, amplifying what silence alone cannot.

And yet, for all its technical precision and creative ambition, “The Lost Bus” stumbles early in its screenplay, where character arcs feel sketched rather than sculpted.

Case in point: Kevin McKay’s backstory surfaces in a grief-laden monologue — a scene that risks distancing viewers with its one-note delivery, leaning into overt sentimentality rather than building toward earned emotional resonance.

These early missteps throw off the film’s emotional cadence, hampering the emotional crescendo the narrative so earnestly seeks. The dialogue remains functional but rarely achieves emotional depth. And while the real-time urgency of the escape propels the action, it comes at the cost of narrative rhythm.

What’s missing isn’t suspense — it’s pacing: the steady beat of storytelling that allows momentum to feel earned, organic and emotionally resonant.

But as the stakes rise, so too does the film’s emotional clarity. The screenplay finds redemption in the second act, where urgency sharpens and emotion deepens. As the escape unfolds, the dialogue tightens, the pacing steadies, and the film finally finds its footing — not through sentiment, but through stakes and conviction. By the end, what emerges is a powerful tribute to the unsung heroes of Paradise, anchored by McConaughey’s smoldering intensity and Ferrera’s steely warmth.

“The Lost Bus” isn’t about wildfires — it’s about humanity in motion and grace under pressure, where courage and compassion shine brightest, like embers glowing in the dark.