Alternate Title: Home on the Range
One sentence synopsis: A professional hunter and an FBI agent try to solve a brutal murder on an Arapaho reservation in remote Wyoming.
Things Havoc liked: As anyone who listens to my end-of-year podcasts already knows (and that is
all of you, right?), last year was a pretty dismal year for movies. It
happens. But one of the shining exceptions was the neo-western crime
thriller Hell or High Water, a superb film set in the bleak landscape of
the West Texas plains, about a pair of brothers robbing banks to try
and save their family's farm, while being pursued by Texas Rangers. I
waxed eloquently over the virtues of Hell or High Water twice, once
during the review itself, and once during the best-of-the-year Havoc
Awards, but what I did not know when I was waxing-so was that the writer
of that film, a man named Taylor Sheridan, who also wrote Sicario, was
in the process of making the leap from writer to writer-director of
another windswept neo-western, this time a murder mystery set in the
magnificent desolation of North-west Wyoming.
And it's amazing.
Wind River is one of the best films of the year, a staggeringly-good and unflinching character-and-setting study mated with an excellent murder-mystery. Like Hell or High Water before it, it is a film with a tremendous sense of place, specifically in this case the Wind River Arapaho Reservation of Wyoming, a place which, in the dead of winter, is not particularly conducive to human life. Also like Hell or High Water, it is a quiet, subtle film, taking the time to languish over its setting and characters, indulging in the magnificent desolation of the wintry mountains, and punctuating things when necessary with scenes of brutal violence. I was always a fan of Sheridan's writing, his pedigree alone demanded that, but with this film he has vaulted himself into the ranks of excellent writer-directors, a perilous perch that few can ever attain.
Wind River stars Jeremy Renner, an actor I have long
admired, as Cory Lambert, a Fish & Game agent who works in the
remote Wyoming mountains. Lambert is white, but his ex-wife, and thus
his son and daughter are or were Arapaho Indians, and his job as a
predator hunter places him in close contact with the inhabitants of what
everyone calls "The Rez". I say 'are and were' because Renner's
daughter is dead, killed in unknown circumstances, as so many Native
American women are, and found in a remote area with no evidence as to
how she came to be there. As such, when he discovers the body of
another young woman in the snow, raped and dead of exposure, the
daughter of a friend of his, he throws himself into the task of finding
out what happened to this one girl with the aid of anyone he can find.
Make no mistake, this is a tricky role, as it would be very easy to
appear as the typical "white savior", or follow the Dances with Wolves
trope of the white man being purged of his evil white guilt by becoming
an Indian, but the film is too well-made, and Renner too good an actor
to fall into these pitfalls. A standout scene early on in the movie has
an FBI agent (Elizabeth Olsen) inadvertently insult the grieving
parents of the murdered girl through ignorance and officiousness, only
for Renner to show up moments later to ask more or less the same
questions, but with a completely different attitude and level of
experience with the culture he's dealing with and the people he's
talking to. Lest I sound like I'm picking on Olsen, though, she's
excellent as well, a fresh-faced FBI agent who knows next-to-nothing
about the situation she's been dropped into except
for the fact that she knows next-to-nothing about it, which is the most
important fact of all. Aware that the only reason she was sent to the
Reservation was because crimes there are considered unimportant, she
does her level best, conscious of her inadequacy for the task, because
nobody else is coming.
But while Renner and Olsen are both very, very good, it's the supporting cast that really sells the film. Gil Birmingham, of Hell or High Water (and the Twilight series, though we'll forgive him for that),
plays the aforementioned father of the
aforementioned murder victim, a small role that is nonetheless
fantastically-well-done, combining existential-grade grief with a
practical side generally missing from roles like this one. Graham
Greene meanwhile, one of my favorite character actors working,
plays the Reservation Police Chief, whose task it is and has been for years to try and police an area the size of Connecticut with six men. As this is manifestly impossible, Greene's character, like everyone else, simply does what he can do, despite everything, and Greene is exceptionally good at showcasing someone whose choices are cynicism or doggedness, and whose chooses the latter with open eyes despite all evidence to the contrary. There is also an extended flashback sequence involving Kelsey Chow and Baby Driver and Fury's Jon Bernthal as Natalie, the murdered girl, and Matt, her boyfriend, both of whom are superb, as are a host of other more minor actors such as James Jordan. This sequence, though difficult to watch (it involves murder and rape, among other wholesome pursuits), is one of the best scenes of the sort that I have ever seen, a sequence that showcases, without histrionics or dramatic irony, just how the most heinous of crimes can come about through a combination of alcohol, testosterone, group dynamics, and unrestrained escalation. Were the film nothing but this scene, it would justify its existence, but as it stands, it is the jewel in the film's crown.
Indeed, the entire film is remarkably well-made, from the gorgeous cinematography and understated
score, to the brief, brutal flashes of
violence that erupt without warning. It calls back, quite consciously,
to westerns and crime dramas like Unforgiven, Collateral, or Heat, using
referential shot selection and self aware stylism. The soundtrack is
all mood-music, western-influenced electronica and rock, primarily
scored together by legendary musicians Warren Ellis and Nick Cave (the
latter of whom holds the most awesome nickname in history as "Rock
Music's Prince of Darkness", bestowed on him by Johnny Cash of all
people). The pacing is slower than any of Sheridan's previous works
(probably an effect of him directing, this time), but the result is a
sombre, windswept, dramatic piece that doesn't luxuriate in darkness or
give in to rabid polemic. It's a balancing act that gets more
impressive every time I think about it. It's close to being a
masterpiece.
Final thoughts: In case I've somehow been unclear, Wind River is a phenomenal film, one
of the best neo-westerns I've ever seen, and a strong contender for the
best film of 2017. I absolutely love and unhesitatingly recommend it to
anyone even casually interested in westerns, thrillers, mysteries, or
any one of the fine actors that appear within it. As for myself, I will
be watching Taylor Sheridan closely for whatever he does next, as a new
filmmaker capable of producing a movie this good can only either
continue to make spectacular movies, or can take the Michael Cimino/Tod
Browning route, and follow up their breakout hit with a movie so
off-kilter that it bankrupts their studio and gets them blacklisted from
Hollywood forever.
Either way, it'll be fun to watch.
Next Time: And now we consider another sober and reasonable film in which Taron Edgerton beats a man with his own arm.
And it's amazing.
Wind River is one of the best films of the year, a staggeringly-good and unflinching character-and-setting study mated with an excellent murder-mystery. Like Hell or High Water before it, it is a film with a tremendous sense of place, specifically in this case the Wind River Arapaho Reservation of Wyoming, a place which, in the dead of winter, is not particularly conducive to human life. Also like Hell or High Water, it is a quiet, subtle film, taking the time to languish over its setting and characters, indulging in the magnificent desolation of the wintry mountains, and punctuating things when necessary with scenes of brutal violence. I was always a fan of Sheridan's writing, his pedigree alone demanded that, but with this film he has vaulted himself into the ranks of excellent writer-directors, a perilous perch that few can ever attain.
Wind River stars Jeremy Renner, an actor I have long
admired, as Cory Lambert, a Fish & Game agent who works in the
remote Wyoming mountains. Lambert is white, but his ex-wife, and thus
his son and daughter are or were Arapaho Indians, and his job as a
predator hunter places him in close contact with the inhabitants of what
everyone calls "The Rez". I say 'are and were' because Renner's
daughter is dead, killed in unknown circumstances, as so many Native
American women are, and found in a remote area with no evidence as to
how she came to be there. As such, when he discovers the body of
another young woman in the snow, raped and dead of exposure, the
daughter of a friend of his, he throws himself into the task of finding
out what happened to this one girl with the aid of anyone he can find.
Make no mistake, this is a tricky role, as it would be very easy to
appear as the typical "white savior", or follow the Dances with Wolves
trope of the white man being purged of his evil white guilt by becoming
an Indian, but the film is too well-made, and Renner too good an actor
to fall into these pitfalls. A standout scene early on in the movie has
an FBI agent (Elizabeth Olsen) inadvertently insult the grieving
parents of the murdered girl through ignorance and officiousness, only
for Renner to show up moments later to ask more or less the same
questions, but with a completely different attitude and level of
experience with the culture he's dealing with and the people he's
talking to. Lest I sound like I'm picking on Olsen, though, she's
excellent as well, a fresh-faced FBI agent who knows next-to-nothing
about the situation she's been dropped into except
for the fact that she knows next-to-nothing about it, which is the most
important fact of all. Aware that the only reason she was sent to the
Reservation was because crimes there are considered unimportant, she
does her level best, conscious of her inadequacy for the task, because
nobody else is coming.But while Renner and Olsen are both very, very good, it's the supporting cast that really sells the film. Gil Birmingham, of Hell or High Water (and the Twilight series, though we'll forgive him for that),
plays the aforementioned father of the
aforementioned murder victim, a small role that is nonetheless
fantastically-well-done, combining existential-grade grief with a
practical side generally missing from roles like this one. Graham
Greene meanwhile, one of my favorite character actors working, plays the Reservation Police Chief, whose task it is and has been for years to try and police an area the size of Connecticut with six men. As this is manifestly impossible, Greene's character, like everyone else, simply does what he can do, despite everything, and Greene is exceptionally good at showcasing someone whose choices are cynicism or doggedness, and whose chooses the latter with open eyes despite all evidence to the contrary. There is also an extended flashback sequence involving Kelsey Chow and Baby Driver and Fury's Jon Bernthal as Natalie, the murdered girl, and Matt, her boyfriend, both of whom are superb, as are a host of other more minor actors such as James Jordan. This sequence, though difficult to watch (it involves murder and rape, among other wholesome pursuits), is one of the best scenes of the sort that I have ever seen, a sequence that showcases, without histrionics or dramatic irony, just how the most heinous of crimes can come about through a combination of alcohol, testosterone, group dynamics, and unrestrained escalation. Were the film nothing but this scene, it would justify its existence, but as it stands, it is the jewel in the film's crown.
Indeed, the entire film is remarkably well-made, from the gorgeous cinematography and understated
Things Havoc disliked: Honestly, there's not much wrong with Wind River whatsoever, at least
nothing that isn't clearly done for effect as opposed to sloppiness.
Some of the predator/prey symbolism is a bit on the nose for my taste,
but that's the risk that comes with shooting movies in the American
West, an area rich with scenic mythology and symbolic landscapes. There
are also a handful of plot cul-de-sacs that are reasonably
well-established before being dropped unceremoniously, such as Renner's
relationship with his son, ex-wife, and in-laws, all of whom get time
devoted to their setup, all of whom are forgotten about in the aftermath
of the film's payoff. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a bit of
tonal whiplash on occasion, as the film oscillates between
hyper-realistic murder-mystery and sudden, explosive gun battles (I'm
not quite sure what the end-game of someone who decides to start a
shootout with six cops and the FBI is). But overall, none of these
issues mar the film's qualities beyond the occasional quizzical moment.
Either way, it'll be fun to watch.
Final Score: 8.5/10
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