While Cutoff is a western, absolutely, it’s not what one thinks of when considering the genre.  There aren’t cowboys.  There’s only one Indian.  There’s no shoot outs, corrals, or violence.  There are only three families, with their three covered wagons, heading across the plain in hopes of reaching Oregon.  But they’re lost.

In a similar fashion to Gus van Sant’s Gerry, we get to watch these pioneers as their spirits sink lower and lower while they walk around in beautiful, but extremely harsh environments.  But Reichardt used even less music than van Sant did.  The film is nearly silent besides the dialog and the sound of cows pulling wagons.  One of the most striking decisions was to film the movie in 1.33 aspect ratio.  It seems this was intended to encourage a documentary-type feel (a theory supported by the fact the story is based on a true story, on journals kept by the women at the time).  I was doubtful about its usefulness, but Reichardt’s ability to compose shot after beautiful shot in this framing won me over quickly.  Her camera spies on these pioneers from different distances.  Sometimes, at the height of the current on screen drama, we only get to see the action from a great ways off, as if the audience is meant to be following them in a literal sort of way.

Williams is the anchor of the outstanding cast.  Her performance is gritty and stalwart.  She easily gives Hailee Steinfeld a run for her money.  Though the dialog for all the actors is kept at a minimum, usually background noise to some other focus the camera is maintaining, there’s no need for, as these actors can move mountains without saying anything.  Seeing Paul Dano in an environment so similar to that of There Will Be Blood almost makes it feel like he’s playing the same character, and has just wandered into a new story.

Like Wendy and Lucy, Reichardt seems to be exploring more where Americans are finding themselves in their own country.  These hungry pioneers are put at crossroads, meant to sympathize, empathize, and more highlighted in the film itself, determine the threat of a dark skinned Indian who doesn’t speak their language.  The allegories are there if you want to look that deeply.  And you should want to look that deeply.    As Sophia Coppola surprised everyone with the multi-layered Somewhere that is surely a marked change in the maturity of her work, Kelly Reichardt has done that as well.  She has created a thoughtful, and intimate narrative that should demand as much as attention as Wendy and Lucy.

4 out of 4 stars

The story of Wendy and Lucy isn’t much.  In fact providing a synopsis gives the false impression of a strong plot line.  In any case, the film follows Wendy, played by Michelle Williams (probably the best performance of her career) and her dog Lucy.  She’s unable to find work, and is passing through a small town in Oregon on her way to Alaska, hoping to work in the canneries.  While she has thin ties to Indiana (license plates, a brief phone call to an apathetic sister who lives there), it’s not really clear where she’s coming from, clear emphasis on the girl who has no place to call her own.  She sleeps in her car, and her small cash reserves are in danger of depletion as her car breaks down, and the cost looms over her.  In the mean time, she’s caught shoplifting a can of dog food for Lucy, and while she’s in custody at the police station, Lucy disappears.

It’s at this point in the plot that the slow, meditative pacing allows the viewer to be profoundly moved, as Wendy wanders the town, without a home now her car is gone, without her best friend, and seemingly hopeless.  This is Reichardt’s third film (Old Joy hit theaters last year), and she co-wrote the script with Jonathan Raymond.  However, it’s this film that puts her in a league of her own.  Details on Wendy and Lucy‘s budget are difficult to find, but it couldn’t be much more than a million dollars, which goes to prove that to make terrific film, all you need is talent.  Williams performance is utterly heartbreaking, and brilliant its subtleties.  She manages display a thousand emotions on her face without ever saying a word.  While it’s difficult subject matter (especially for those expecting escapism from these very subjects), the lachrymose mode gives way to a sense of hope and possibility that makes the film worth seeing.

3.5 out of 4 stars