Frame of Reference: Kelly Reichardt's Night Moves

Night Moves, a decidedly didactic feature from Kelly Reichardt, is a film that is set deliberately within the closed-off minds of its protagonists, a set of eco-terrorists set on blowing up a dam in Oregon. Because of this lack of an outside, Reichardt does not offer an easy set of morality and politics to offer up to create a point of comparison. The closest the film ever comes to creating an antagonist is a local fertilizer seller who simply wants to follow the government’s rules about needing to send in a social security number in order to purchase the substance. Instead, Reichardt’s critique is crafted through her trademark minimalism, a film that examines the ripples of a pure ideology. The film’s protagonist Josh, played by a phenomenally minimal Jesse Eisenberg, is brimming with paranoia at every second. But he’s also rarely looking past the frame.

Using a genre for something more crafty and subdued was also buried deep within Riechardt’s last feature, Meek’s Cutoff, a Western with a shift of power so subtle it was lost on many audience members. Night Moves seems to be having somewhat of a similar reaction, with the recognizable genre elements overpowering her real motivations (there is also an issue that the director has decided to attack a liberal cause, a facet many critics have labored on). The totality of the director’s intentions are present throughout, especially during an early sequence when Josh and Dena (Dakota Fanning) meet up with their fellow conspirator Harlon (Peter Saarsgard) at a local diner. Each can’t trust the other, raising issues to each other about the loyalty of the other to the mission. These people are looking inward, not outward, and Riechardt always positions one against two within the frame. 

Between the Pitches: Why Film Critics Love Baseball

            Last night, I attended my first baseball game of the season, which was an excellent night as the Minnesota Twins tore through the New York Yankees for a 7-3 win (as a MN native living in New York, it’s fun to see your team take down a massively overpaid one). The weather was perfect, I had great seats, and the game was well fought by both sides.

            And then I got thinking. Many of my friends hate watching baseball (many of them hate sports in general, but let’s ignore those for now). They prefer football, basketball, and hockey, claiming baseball is slow, boring, and uneventful. Then I was thinking how many film critics I know are also huge baseball fans: Noel Murray (Atlanta Braves), Matt Singer (New York Mets), Louis Godfrey (San Francisco Giants), and Richard Brody (another Mets fan—Richard told me he went to the second game ever at Shea Stadium) to name a few. These guys are also film critics who appreciate what some call “slow cinema.” I’m thinking films out of the Romanian New Wave, or the works of Bela Tarr, or Jeanne Dielman. And to name some of their favorite releases, we’ve loved films like Poetry, The Tree of Life, Meek’s Cutoff, and We Can’t Go Home Again. And this made me realize that many of the pleasures of watching these films are the same to why I love baseball.

Meek's Cutoff: Off the Oregon Trail, More Problems Than Dysentery

Meek’s Cutoff

Directed By: Kelly Reichardt

Written By: Jon Raymond

Starring: Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood, Paul Dano, Shirley Henderson, Zoe Kazan, Will Patton, and Rod Rondeaux

Director of Photography: Christopher Blauvelt, Editor: Kelly Reichardt, Production Designer: David Doernberg, Original Score: Jeff Grace

            The first thing that seems odd when watching the latest film from Wendy & Lucy director Kelly Reichardt, Meek’s Cutoff, is that she has shot the film in the classic Academy Ratio of 1.34:1, meaning it’s shaped like a box. Some modern films—including Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank—have done this approach, but Ms. Reichardt is also making a Western on the dry, barren landscapes of 1845 Oregon, meaning she is denying us access to these wide open spaces that surround her characters. And yet, Meek’s Cutoff is not a Western about the miles of open land—it’s instead claustrophobic, as we see the world and perhaps livelihood of our characters falling apart and squeezing in on them. There is a certain fear that pervades the entire film, and it comes from this often-devastating visual technique.

            Yet why make a claustrophobic allegorical Western? That’s the problem that Meek’s Cutoff will have on its viewers the first time around. The astute work of Ms. Reichardt is on display, but the film is difficult to swallow in a way very different from Wendy & Lucy, which was a much more emotional journey, thanks to the performance of Michelle Williams. Ms. Williams is back here, but she’s only part of a group of pioneers, lost along the Oregon trail, none of whom standout, except for a bearded Bruce Greenwood as the titular Meek.

NYFF Review: Meek's Cutoff

Meek’s Cutoff

Directed By Kelly Reichardt

United States

            The first thing one easily notices when watching the latest film from Wendy & Lucy director Kelly Reichardt, Meek’s Cutoff, is that she has shot the film in the classic Academy Ratio of 1.34:1, meaning it’s shaped like a box. Some modern films—including Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank—have done this approach, but Ms. Reichardt is also making a Western on the dry, barren landscapes of 1845 Oregon, which are perfect for visual representation. And yet, Meek’s Cutoff is not a Western about the miles of open land—it’s instead claustrophobic, with the options of the characters falling apart, and squeezing in on them. There is a certain fear that pervades the entire film, and it comes from this often devastating visual technique.

            Yet why make a claustrophobic allegorical Western? That’s the problem that Meek’s Cutoff will have on its initial viewings. The astute work of Ms. Reichardt is on display, but the film is difficult to swallow in a way even different from Wendy & Lucy, which was a much more emotional journey, thanks to the performance of Michelle Williams. Ms. Williams is back here, but she’s only part of a group of pioneers, lost along the Oregon trail, none of whom standout, except for a bearded Bruce Greenwood as the titular Meek.

            A series of long, distant shots sets the stage for Meek’s Cutoff, as we see the three families and Meek traveling along barren landscapes with little joy. We see one of the characters carving into a branch a single word that gives you all you need in terms of exposition: “Lost.” With that, we are invested in what these families are about to go through, and whether the titular Meek is attempting to rouse the group to their death. And then things get weird with the appearance of a Native American, which sparks a number of more debates.

            In Meek’s Cutoff, the tension is not the settlers against the terrain, though it certainly have its effects. It’s an essentially psychological drama where small gestures or phrases drastically change power dynamics. The film’s cast is reserved in their emotions, and do so in a truly austere manner. This not only includes Ms. Williams and Mr. Greenwood, by Shirley Henderson, Zoe Kazan, Paul Dano, the always-underrated Will Patton, and Rod Rondeaux in the strange, strange performance as the sole Native American.

            Not much happens when compared to the large landscapes, all of which are brutally harsh. The technical aspects of the film are amazing, from the locations (Roger Fairies has received a singular credit for his amazing work), the drab and flavorless clothes of the men and women, and the harsh unflattering cinematography by Christopher Blauvelt. All work together toward Ms. Reichardt’s vision of the West, which feels more like a psychological-heavy realism than a mythic tale.

            However, there is an allegorical approach to Ms. Reichardt’s narrative, and the film is full of symbols, cryptic dialogue, and an ending that will leave many unsatisfied. It left me a little unsatisfied as well, only because one viewing will not be enough to sufficiently understand the world Ms. Reichardt has brought to the screen. The film is difficult, and only those willing to work through the ideas on screen will be rewarded. And yet, it’s a film that really merits the word “original” next to it, because the genre has never been starker, and in a strange way, more beautiful in a haunting way, than presented here.