A star vehicle in ‘Blue Car’

It can happen late in a career, or early, or several times, but what all performers hope for is that defining role, a part that makes full use of all they have to give at a particular moment in time. For Agnes Bruckner, not yet 18, “Blue Car” is that kind of film.

Sensitively directed by Karen Moncrieff, who also wrote the screenplay, “Blue Car” made an impact at Sundance 2002 despite being unceremoniously shunted off to a noncompetitive slot. Miramax, ever inscrutable, held off release for more than a year, which, given the slim pickings lately, only makes Bruckner’s accomplishment that much more welcome.

One thing that has not been absent from American screens in the interim is teenagers, lots and lots of teenagers, but they bear the same limited, cartoonish relation to actual young people that Jack Nicholson does to a genuine anger management consultant.

Bruckner’s Meg, by contrast, is achingly real, a teenager who embodies all the contradictions, confusions, yearnings and suspicions of someone who is growing up too fast but is impatient for things to happen faster still. The actress, who’s had smaller roles in “Murder by Numbers” and “The Glass House,” made a deep and potent connection to this particular part, and the results are impressive.

Moncrieff was trained as an actress before she became a writer-director, and it shows in her work with Bruckner and Regan Arnold, the first-time actress who plays Meg’s younger sister Lily. Her dialogue also rings true, though not all of “Blue Car’s” characters are equally convincing, and the film’s structure can be as awkward as Meg’s time in life.

The vehicle of the title is the car Meg’s father drove out of the lives of his daughters and his wife when their marriage ended. It’s also the name of a poem that Meg reads in her Midwestern high school English class as the film opens, a poem that touches on the loss and loneliness that have characterized her emotional life.

Especially appreciative of the poem is Meg’s English teacher, Mr. Auster (John Sayles veteran David Strathairn). He tells her she might want to consider applying for the Discovery Award for young poets, a contest that takes place in Florida during spring break.

Meg, ambivalent about the attention being paid to her, doesn’t really respond, in part because there is drama enough at home. Her mother, Diane (Margaret Colin), is overstressed and short-tempered from working during the day and going to school at night. That means a reluctant Meg has to baby-sit sister Lily, who at first seems merely bratty but soon starts to develop more difficult and disturbing problems.

Needing to escape these anxieties and feeling flattered at Mr. Auster’s interest, Meg agrees to work with him during lunch hours on getting her poem into good enough shape for the competition. From a writing point of view, at least, Auster proves to be a classically helpful mentor, always encouraging Meg to dig deeper and reminding her that “great poets touch the hidden nerve.”

The problem with Mr. Auster, both initially and as he develops, is that he is as over-familiar and predictable a character as he sounds, and not in a good way. Strathairn uses his empathetic persona and experience to counteract this as much as possible, but he never convinces us that the person he is playing is genuine.

No such problem exists with Bruckner’s Meg. Though Moncrieff has given her fine dialogue, the actress accomplishes a considerable amount without words, using body language and facial expressions -- including a smile that is as dazzling as it is rare -- to flesh out her character. More vulnerable than she realizes, hesitant about revealing herself, convincingly lost and uncertain yet ultimately fearless, Meg is not even close to being the kind of kid who always does the right thing. But the film never indulges in special pleading, never excuses her missteps, never pretends she is other than what she is.

Unfortunately, Meg is finally more real than the film about her, especially when the plot takes a number of melodramatic turns. The film strives to make these as plausible as possible, but the elements are finally too schematic for that to happen. Still, even with its drawbacks, “Blue Car” remains an intimate, thoughtful drama, with a performance no one is likely to forget.

*

‘Blue Car’

MPAA rating: R, for sexual content and language.

Times guidelines: Intense adult subject matter and a scene of self-mutilation.

David Strathairn ... Mr. Auster

Agnes Bruckner ... Meg

Margaret Colin ... Diane

Frances Fisher ... Delia

Regan Arnold ... Lily

A Peer J. Oppenheimer production, released by Miramax Films. Director Karen Moncrieff. Producers Peer J. Oppenheimer, Amy Sommer, David Waters. Screenplay Karen Moncrieff. Cinematographer Rob Sweeney. Editor Toby Yates. Costumes Kristan Andrews. Music Adam Gorgoni. Production design Kristan Andrews.

In limited release.