In a yellow dress, a woman runs across the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. At first she's dwarfed by the immense landscape, but we come in close to find she's distressed, lost, frantic, stumbling over rocky terrain. A car passes just out of distance. She's not thinking straight or something terrible has happened. A predicament open for interpretation, maybe she isn't looking to be found. But she is found, by a jogger who finds her passed out, huddled under a rock. She reluctantly accepts his help, and they go to his white cabin at the foot of a mountain range. At first glance, "Strayed" is most notable for its incredible scenery+visuals (d.p: Julian Schwanitz), breathtaking views in every direction. But it's not just the sight, it's also the soundscape, and the feeling -- a visceral capture. One that freely intercuts between times & scopes. Vast landscapes of galloping elks are interspersed with textural closeups: tight on hands pulling at a wire fence, tight on faces making out in a dark room. The jogger asks if anyone knows she's lost but we don't get a straight answer. As is the case throughout, no answers, hints, but nothing spelled out. A gorgeous, impeccably made allegory with obscured symbols. There's hardly any dialogue, instead director Ian Waugh focuses on breaths, expressions, silence. Michele Gallagher & Steven Rae compellingly play the woman & man.