If the rest of the film could have achieved some mental humility First Cattle.
With the opening of Kelly Reichardt's latest film, a young woman (Alia Shawkat) traveling with her dog to modern-day Oregon meets something she was expecting: a skull under a bush tree. Further excavations produce two full-length bones, hand in hand. This picture shows sadness, and may be violent, but it is also gentle. But then these people died, whoever they were, they shared the connection.
Those ties take up a large part as the entire film relaunches in 1820 and informs Coco (John Magaro), a chef who moves one day to open a bakery or hotel, and King-Lu (Orion Lee), a businessman on the run. When they first met, Cookie was hired by a caravan heading to Fort Tillicum. All ready to break free from this little annoyance, and look down on Cookie for his gentle disposition. King-Lu, who wanted to avenge the killing of a friend, took off all his clothes in an attempt to get rid of his pursuers, and was not safe in the wild. Instead of sounding the alarm, Cookie gives him a blanket and hides it.
The following is a simple trick. The two men met, stealing milk so that Cook made "fat cakes" to sell to traders and travelers. The milk comes from the first (and currently, only) cow in the region, the beautiful Jersey owned by the governor of Fort Tillicum & # 39; s Chief Factor (Toby Jones). What’s interesting is what Reichardt, who co-wrote the screenplay with Jonathan Raymond based on his novel The Half Life, build upon this simplicity.
The meat of the story is not just the success of Cookie and King-Lu. Their story is a small version of the American Dream, of supply and demand, of the advent of civilization in the American West. The conversations these two men have about what they are doing – the balance between risk and reward, and how long they last – apply throughout history. All businesses have to deal with unattainable access to capital and large-scale power structures, and, in the most baseless sense, a simple human desire to get beyond the bare necessities.
Most importantly, there is a need for people to connect. Cookie and King-Lu's story illustrated in a larger picture of American history is as insignificant, or as impractical, as their relationship on screen. Both are unusual ducks for Fort Tillicum, where the ability to throw punk and get rowdy is a major force in gaining social status. King-Lu is a dreamer, and cookies are more functional, but they are friendly atmosphere, without occasional fuss.
That understanding comes from outside their first real moment only. King-Lu walks through the woods outside his small forest house. The cookie is initially ugly in the house, but then it gets broom and starts to sweep the floor. When King-Lu starts the fire, Cookie goes out and brings in a bunch of wild plants to make a bouquet of flowers. They are still aliens who love each other, but even if they do, they find out how to make their lives blossom together.
Unsurprisingly, the movie goes up a notch that touches on that domestic setting, as the characters convey the joys of simple things like cinnamon and clafoutis. It's the little things that make life worth it. The key to this climb is how well Magaro and Lee understand each other. Magaro's sad eyes and brightly colored voice convey softness and warmth, as he respectfully communicates with the cow as he kills it. His only feeling of uncertainty was taken away by Lee's confidence. Although King-Lu becomes skeptical of moments, Lee speaks of a reassuring dream, and skillfully shifts the dial between King-Lu's professional sharpness and his genuine love for Cookie as their situation becomes more complicated.
The sheer brilliance of the misery makes only the time that the viewers spend – and the fact that they spend with each other – all that matters, rather than stealing the drama and the meaning. Reichardt also, wisely, maintains the movie's focus on their friendship, and only allows the violence around them to enter the picture when it is insecure. The movement of the movie passes when it is quiet, showing a collection of small emotions that ultimately define love better than any good action.
First Cattle opens in New York on March 6, with a national release to follow.