Stephanie Laing brings a distinct sensibility to Tow, one shaped by years of work in television and independent film. She’s directed episodes of acclaimed series like Transparent and The Morning Show, work that demonstrates her comfort with intimate character studies and her ability to extract nuanced performances from actors. In those TV projects, Laing developed a reputation for understanding how systemic pressures weigh on individuals—how larger institutional failures get lived out in small, devastating moments. That skill set translates directly to material like this, where a single bureaucratic indignity (a $21,634 tow bill) becomes the fulcrum for examining homelessness, poverty, and the infrastructure designed to punish people already on society’s margins.
What’s striking about this project is how it pairs that sensibility with a genuinely star-driven cast. Rose Byrne is the anchor here, and she’s an interesting choice for this particular role. Byrne’s worked across comedy (Bridesmaids, Spy), prestige drama (Brooklyn, Damages), and genre work, but she’s often played characters who maintain composure under pressure. That capability—the ability to show someone holding it together while everything falls apart—is exactly what this material needs. She’s also collaborated with strong directors on character-driven work, so she understands the difference between surface-level performance and the kind of vulnerability that comes from inhabiting someone’s desperation.
Dominic Sessa is a newer presence in film, but he’s already shown promise in work like The Iron Claw, where he played opposite Jake Gyllenhaal and demonstrated real emotional range. He brings a younger energy to ensemble pieces and has the kind of open-faced expressiveness that works well when paired with more established actors. Demi Lovato rounds out the cast, bringing their own complicated relationship with public scrutiny and reinvention—they’ve done acting work across television and film, though this marks a different kind of dramatic vehicle.
The production itself is being handled by a coalition of studios and production companies: The Exchange, Cake or Death Pictures (a name that definitely earns points for personality), Astro Lion Pictures, Gramercy Park Media, Hollywood Media Productions, Minnow Productions, and Votiv Films. That’s a lot of names on the masthead, which typically indicates a project that took some assembly to get off the ground. Independent and mid-budget dramas often require this kind of distributed financing because traditional studio models don’t always see the commercial upside in small-scale character work. The fact that this many producers and companies committed to it suggests genuine conviction about the material.
The story itself works from a real-world problem. Predatory towing practices are documented and have been investigated by news outlets; they disproportionately affect low-income residents, and the costs can be genuinely impossible to recover. By centering a narrative on someone experiencing homelessness fighting to reclaim her car—essentially fighting to maintain what little stability she has—the film tackles a specific, lived experience that rarely gets centered in mainstream cinema. It’s not abstract criticism of inequality. It’s a woman trying to get her life back from a system designed to extract money from people with no resources.
At 105 minutes minutes, Tow is working with a lean runtime. That suggests a focused narrative without excessive padding—the kind of pacing that can work well for character-driven drama when it’s executed with intention. Laing’s television background suggests she understands efficiency in storytelling; you have to move quickly in TV without sacrificing depth, and that discipline translates to film.
The ensemble nature of this production—the multiple studios involved, the range of acting talent, the focus on a socially conscious story—positions this as part of a broader current in cinema. There’s ongoing interest in films that ground themselves in real economic and social problems. These projects often find their audience through word-of-mouth and critical recognition rather than opening-weekend spectacle, and they can build genuine staying power once they reach viewers.
What matters about Tow right now, before release, is that it exists as an indicator of intent. Laing is taking her television experience into feature filmmaking with material that could have easily been a TV movie but instead is being positioned as a theatrical film. That choice reflects confidence in the story and the performances. Byrne, Sessa, and Lovato are lending their names and their craft to material that doesn’t promise easy answers or comfortable viewing. That combination—a director with proven sensitivity to character, committed actors, and a story rooted in real injustice—is what makes this project worth paying attention to.
