Toronto International Film Festival 2025

Paul Greengrass doesn’t miss. The United 93 and Captain Phillips director turns another real-world tragedy into a nerve-wracking thriller in The Lost Bus, a mile-a-minute survival saga about the most destructive wildfire in California’s history. A tale of simple townsfolk rising to the occasion, its action movie structure never betrays its somber reality. Instead, its Hollywood stylings take what might otherwise be seen at a documentarian remove and make it feel intense and immediate, as the film thrusts its audience right in the middle of an unfolding disaster.

Greengrass and Brad Ingelsby’s screenplay draws from the non-fiction book Paradise by Lizzie Johnson, which follows the heroic efforts of blue collar bus driver Kevin McKay, a native of Paradise, California. When the movie begins, the divorced and driven McKay (Matthew McConaughey) struggles to make ends meet, as he balances the demands of his new job with the health of his ailing mother and moods of his teenage son — played by none other than McConaughey’s own mom and teenager, Kay and Levi. Their domestic drama doesn’t take up too much of the movie’s screentime, but it looms large over the proceedings, when the unassuming McKay is forced to approach mundane decisions as though they were grandiose moral dilemmas, like returning his school bus for routine maintenance or delivering Tylenol to his son.

However, as McKay drives between elementary school bus stops, a wildfire begins spreading through the nearby mountains, unbeknownst to him or to the town’s 27,000 residents. The Lost Bus becomes quickly and distinctly split between two very different kinds of drama that are sure to collide: the quickfire logistics of firefighters trying to battle the approaching flames, and McKay’s personal troubles, which don’t seem nearly as vital in comparison. However, establishing this backstory as though it were a part of the disaster ends up paying surprising dividends. In a more run-of-the-mill Hollywood movie, the broken home of the gruff, individualist action hero helps establish his future sense of duty before trouble arrives. However, by introducing McKay’s paternal woes around the same time as the fire begins, his individual troubles take on a communal significance before he knows it. The movie’s characters are part of the larger societal fabric threatened by this disaster, whether they like it or not.

As McKay’s dispatcher Ruby (Ashlie Atkinson) coordinates rescue efforts, and the fire chiefs strategize and call for re-enforcements — in zippy handheld scenes typical of Greengrass’s cinema verité approach — editor William Goldenberg whips back and forth between the movie’s parallel plots, until McKay is the only bus left on the road. This forces him to take on the role of a conscientious first responder. All communication goes down, leaving him in charge of a group of young students and their teacher, Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera), who tries to put on a brave and calming face for the children’s sake. It’s a film of old-fashioned, uncomplicated heroism in the face of existential disaster, but its occasional gestures towards the recent history of wildfires (owing to climate change and corporate neglect) make it all too relevant, especially in light of the deadly Los Angeles fires earlier this year.

It’s easy to forget that the movie unfolds during daytime, because for much of McKay’s hapless mission, the bus is enveloped by a mountain of smoke blocking out the sun. The environment he drives through is downright hellish, given the stunning practical flames Greengrass works with, and captures with lo-fi digital cameras, until the damage feels ripped from terrifying home videos. However, even when the fire is noticeably digital, it’s no less horrific, given the swift drone photography he and cinematographer Pal Ulvik Rokseth employ. Their camera doesn’t just push through the smog and lightspeed, but on occasion, embodies the encroaching flame, a unique POV technique that makes the image feel truly dangerous.

The film’s imposing nature creeps into its earliest frames, given its parched palette and deep, evocative shadows, which threaten to swallow the characters whole. All the while, McConaughey roots each new brazen development with a broad but palpable desperation to get back to his family — but only once he’s completed his mission. The pressure builds within McKay until he almost breaks, but it helps that Ferrara’s Ludwig (lovingly called “Miss Mary” by her students) is left with no choice but to keep her nerves in check.

James Newton Howard’s blaring score recalls some of his work with Christopher Nolan, whose Batman films set the modern template for intense blockbuster filmmaking. Howard’s work here functions similarly, guiding scenes of grounded action to blazing crescendos — and to equally quiet, discomforting moments when all hope seems lost. The concept of McConaughey swerving a bus full of screaming children through a forest fire is funny on paper, and it often is in practice, too. But The Lost Bus achieves the unique paradox of being both jaw dropping (in its ludicrous audacity) and nail-biting (in its emotional tension). Combining Greengrass’s signature realism with the heightened, effects-heavy melodrama Hollywood has long been known for, The Lost Bus ends up one of the most streamlined yet complete and satisfying studio films this year.

The Lost Bus is playing in select theaters now, and will begin streaming on October 3 for Apple TV+ subscribers.

Siddhant Adlakha (@SiddhantAdlakha) is a New York-based film critic and video essay writer originally from Mumbai. He is a member of the New York Film Critics Circle, and his work has appeared in the New York Times, Variety. the Guardian, and New York Magazine.