As we open on scuzzy midwestern writer Steve (McNairy) receiving an early-hours call that his wife Barbara has been killed in a car crash, we receive information at approximately the same pace as (and often from the direct perspective of) his young daughter Alysia (winning newcomer Nessa Dougherty, who has something of Ana Torrent’s dark, porously inquisitive stare). In its introductory scenes, set in 1974, Durham trusts his audience to fill in certain blanks, as we intuit personal histories and relationship nuances amid the elisions of the script and the pooling shadows of DP Greta Zozula’s lovely, woozy 16mm lensing. That it’s affecting in both registers comes down to a performance of quiet, good-humored grace by Scoot McNairy, as a father undergoing his own journey of growth - a blossoming followed by a too-sudden wilting - over two decades. There’s an unforced authenticity to its portrait of ruptured early childhood that isn’t matched by its later, more melodramatic depiction of father-daughter warfare - even if its tear-jerking tactics are undeniably effective. This tonal and aesthetic shift marks not just a coming of age but the passing of a freer, more bohemian era, though it does leave “Fairyland” feeling a touch lopsided. A photographer making his feature-length debut as writer-director, Durham initially pursues a muzzily impressionistic style that bears the influence of producer Sofia Coppola - before switching tack to more standard-issue, dialogue-heavy storytelling as its young female protagonist drifts into adulthood.

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