"I believe god gives each of us a purpose. For a horse it's to run across the prairie, for a cowboy it's to ride."
It is always intensely fascinating to see a filmmaker tackle
a subject and environment that is outside of their own perspective and environment.
As a female director who hails from Beijing, Chloe Zhao’s portrait of
masculinity set against the backdrop of the American Midwest that we see in her
second feature ‘The Rider’ feels so beautifully and painfully authentic that it
is astonishing just in its sheer presence. Before even mentioning the lyrical poignancy
of the film or its thematic weight, just the most surface level observations
are worthy of praise.
Once a rising star on the rodeo circuit, Brady Blackburn’s
(Brady Jandreau) life is altered by a severe accident, causing brain damage
that leaves him with impaired motor abilities and prone to seizures. Unable to
ride, he finds himself aimless and unsure of what his purpose is as he searches
for ways in which he can provide financial support to his father and sister.
With her use of untrained actors who are essentially playing
versions of their own lives, Zhao’s film is about as close to a documentary as
narrative cinema can get. It would be difficult not to overuse the word “truthful”
to describe ‘The Rider’ as it truly as a deeply authentic look into an individual’s
life which in turn shines a light on the very environment he was born into. It
a film which is as much about the backdrop as its characters, a study of
masculinity, morality and expectations placed upon someone whose sole purpose
in life is suddenly ripped away from them when they least expect it.
The film contains so
many faithful examples of the day to day reality that I found myself overlooking
some of the most remarkable instances of this. Whether it is the film showcases
Brady’s training of horses, or his preparations to ride one, or simply his instructions
towards others about to do the same, the nuance of the movement and complete commitment
to the story at hand ultimately crosses the line between what one could even
consider a performance. Apparently some of these events were not even planned,
but simply a natural subtlety which Zhao captured during the shoot. Once you
see the film you realise unsurprising that piece of behind the scenes
information actually is.
It’s for that reason that I am slightly at a loss for how to
describe Jandreau’s performance as it is more a reflection of his own life than
any acting role. But then again to render yourself in such a brutally honest
light, from Brady’s psychical limitations to his emotional despair of not being
able to pursue what he loves, is brave and endearing beyond words. Even without
knowing the history of this film’s leading man I found myself completely
immersed in his plight and struggle both to piece his live back together and
find new meaning from within those pieces.
Zhao is far from obsessed with purely this one man though,
her emphasis on the landscapes and rough terrain within ‘The Rider’ reinforces
the film’s thematic crux of being just as focussed on the world which Brady
inhabits. The rodeo circuit is shown to be a striking and remarkable one, but a
profession that can be broken by in a matter of seconds for those performing.
The story is populated with others like Brady, who have faced injuries in the
rodeo from which they will never fully recover. They are all a haunting
reminder of this devastating point, that for all its showmanship and time
honoured traditions the circuit has claimed plenty of casualties.
However it would be insensitive to imply that these
characters are treated as ghosts whose only purpose is to reinforce a thematic
crux. Many of these actors are, like Jandreau, barely separated from their
filmic counterparts, and Zhao frames them with such empathy that the scenes
involving them make for immensely intimate cinema. The humanity within these
interactions, where each small triumph and moment to laugh, is apparent and
revelled in. They are still most certainly living, despite their injuries, a
point which ultimately ties into an emotionally resonant conversation between
Brady and his sister near the end of the movie.
Once you near the end of the movie it becomes apparent that ‘The
Rider’ possesses no clearly defined plot, or at least not in the conventional
sense. There is no overarching narration or any build towards a climactic
conflict. It’s more a collection of experiences that reinforce a theme, a
method that can often descend into aimless meandering. However the movie retains
that immersive feel for the entirety of its runtime. The strength from which is
makes Brady’s experiences and struggles absorbing is how it demands the viewers’
attention. He is framed closely and intimately, allowing us to observe every
subtlety within his demeanour.
The way in which Zhao’s film unfolds could most certainly be
described as poetic, a lyrical tone that manifests itself within every scene of
the movie. In its sweeping wide shots in which it dwells on the landscape
itself, the film almost seems to be asking the viewer to ponder the deeper
themes at hand just as Brady does numerous times throughout the film. But
rooted within all of this thematic storytelling is a narrative of deep
humanity. Above all else you can constantly connect to Brady’s own desire to
simply follow his dreams while his body refuses to let him. It’s a story we
have seen before but rarely has it been rendered with quite the level of expressive
beauty as Zhao has here.
‘The Rider’ is a hopeful, heart-breaking and deeply humane
vision that blurs the lines between cinema and reality.
No comments:
Post a Comment