REVIEW. Giddy-Up! WILD HORSE NINE is made for movie lovers. Oh, and PS: It's not a western.
This is it. The movie I wait for every year. The one that reminds me why I ❤️ cinema.
*******
It's been four years since writer/director Martin McDonagh's last film: the soulful, oddly evocative The Banshees of Inisherin, which garnered widespread international recognition and critical acclaim, including nine Oscar and ten BAFTA nominations. Banshees was easily my favorite film of 2022 and, in my not-so-humble historical opinion, should have won Best Picture over the flashier genre mash-up, Everything Everwhere All At Once. My enduring affection for this beautifully sad movie typically gets reactions like, "Huh? "What?" followed by a side glance or raised eyebrow, but - for me - the film is part of a larger cinematic exploration of how seemingly ludicrous situations can shed light on what it means to be lonely, to have regrets, to be human.
Banshees, McDonagh's desolate tale of a lifelong friendship gone sour with the passing of time (it's so much more complicated than this summary may suggest), touched something deep within me that, even after almost a half-decade and double-digit viewings, I'm not sure I can capture completely with words or a short synopsis. Maybe it's the kind of aching loneliness I can feel, like gazing upon Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," that draws me in and plays with my heart.
With a filmography that lists only six movies since 2004, including his first film, the Oscar-winning Best Live Action Short, Six Shooter, McDonagh is known for his dark absurdist humor and edgy style, along with a frequent focus on themes of loneliness, guilt, friendship and redemption. Wild Horse Nine is another weird and offbeat variation on this motif. The title reportedly has no special meaning or intended meaning: McDonagh has said he likes horses and numbers, so draw your own conclusions. I think I may have figured out the title's connotation, but to share it here might spoil the movie. DM me if you're curious.
Anyway, here's the skinny:
It's Santiago 1973. CIA agents Chris Carlisle (John Malkovich) and Lee Chesterfield (Sam Rockwell) are sent to Easter Island by Bureau Chief MJ (Steve Buscemi) on what appears to be a brief break before the anticipated, but as yet confidential, Chilean coup (which took place on September 11 of that year). Chris, who was/is Lee's mentor, is terminally ill and also appears to suffer from dementia. He injects morphine for the cancer, and he stuffs his pockets with random "notes-to-self" as his forgetfulness intermittently impairs his memory.
One note reads, "Remember you're dying." Another says, "Don't Trust Lee." Still, he asks Lee to "take him out" at Easter Island, but only after he sees the island's legendary moai. Chris is Catholic, so he has rejected death by suicide as an option. With his end rapidly approaching, Chris has also been writing his memoir by recording random thoughts and stories into a dictaphone. MJ suspects Chris's memoir may disclose confidential CIA secrets and wants Lee to pilfer whatever Chris is writing, and to whack his partner in the process.
You see, Chris was in Dallas in November 1963 and may have been the CIA operative who assassinated John F. Kennedy. The rifle he was issued was never recovered, and MJ is getting nervous.
Okay. And that's all the intel I'm giving in this review. Anything more would spoil the experience. And what a ride McDonagh gives us!
Martin McDonagh's creatively twisted mind has produced another winner: a gem of a buddy movie (as many of his films are), but one that is filled with more than clever one-liners. Malkovich and Rockwell are as precise as Abbott and Costello, as goofily irreverent as Tom and Dick Smothers, and as smooth and edgy as Vincent and Jules's (John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson) "Royale with Cheese" conversation in 1994's Pulp Fiction.
Malkovich's Chris appears non-chalant, but is also brutally matter-of-fact. Rockwell's Lee is the exact opposite: all nervously anxious, but also fiercely protective of his partner. Both are aware of the grisly realities that life in the CIA brings: they've seen a lot, done some things they're not proud of, and their ongoing tête-à-tête is filled with musings on life's choices, the current state of the world, and dreams unfulfilled, with each topic becoming increasingly poignant as Chris's health worsens.
McDonagh's view of authority, specifically, imperialistic government agencies who impose their political ideologies on people and nations whether it benefits the common good or not, is clear. In one scene, Chris's cold-hearted advice to an idealistic Chilean college student named Monica (Mariana Di Girólamo) about how to deal with military police is absolutely bone-chilling, and yet we know it comes from a place of both cynicism and compassion. His life - and his connection to some of the most important global events of the late twentieth century - have perhaps given him a skewed perspective of life, but he's also gained a kind of world weary wisdom that has triggered self-reflection in his final days. McDonagh's ability to balance humor with sadness, sarcasm with pathos, brutality with feeling is astonishing. This is the kind of script that wins Oscars, and I'm hoping to McDonagh finally lands one for this very unique, original screenplay.
Like The Banshees of Inisherin, Wild Horse Nine features stunning cinematography, with Ben Davis's camera becoming another character in the film. But, where Banshees is all ethereal moodiness and foreboding clouds, Wild Horse Nine is sunny and bright, yet nonetheless filled with a kind of magical mystery that only McDonagh can highlight through music and visual rhythm. Here, the camera - whether watching the wild horses roam or following a jumpy Lee pacing the floor while on the phone with his unfaithful alcoholic wife Marge (Parker Posey) - moves with the same urgency as a man running from death.
McDonagh's films are also known to contain graphic, bloody violence, and Wild Horse Nine is no exception, although I'd argue there is less (blood and gory demises) than in some of his previous films. And I would know. I'm not the biggest fan of bloodfests, excessive or explicit violence, so I would comment if this movie contained unnecessary or horrifying cruelty. It does not, so disregard the NYTimes review headline: "A CIA Mission as Bloody Buddy Romp." There are buddies, there is blood, but there is no romping. Period. Comeuppances arrive quickly and near the movie's end. And the tense lead-up's to violence rival Quentin Tarantino, the anticipation of what is to come.
And then there are Malkovich and Rockwell's performances, both Oscar worthy and each one essential for the other's existence. They are the movie's ying and yang, and their snappy rapport goes deeper than superficial banter. There is a profound sense of life, loneliness, trust and friendship in every exchange, and these two actors present a master class in effective character connection from start to finish.
Rockwell, an Oscar winner for Best Supporting Actor in another McDonagh film, Three Billboard Outside Ebbing, Missouri, should be a strong contender again in this category. Though he tends to play people whose lives are very close to falling off the nearest precipice, Rockwell's Lee reveals just how much Chris has impacted his work as a CIA agent, yet he also retains his own sense of self, relying on his own set of ethics: knowing when to do something "for the common good."
Overall, though, even with a stellar suppoting cast - in addition to Rockwell, Buscemi's MJ and Posey's Marge enhance the narrative and create palpable tension as well as comic relief - this is Malkovich's film and he does not disappoint. His Chris is a font of wisdom, a man worn down by time and experience, a CIA operative who slides in and out of truth telling as easily as he loads his weapon. Malkovich's voice, at times laconic, at others, almost hypnotic, slips into Chris's skin and head so completely that you forget it's an actor playing a part.
His ruminations on life, especially the regrets and even the guilt he carries for past mistakes, all provide a counterpoint to the stark realization he is running out of time. Late in the film, he calls his estranged brother Jim (a gruff Tom Waits), looking for forgiveness, perhaps some empathy. He gets neither, but their awkward conversation provides keen insight into the life he's led, the relationships broken, and a redemption that seems elusive.
As we listen to everything from Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" to Diana Ross's "Upside Down" and Der Kölner Kinderchor and Tölzer Knabenchor's "Musica Poetica II: Bläserstücke: Pastourelles - Passion," on the soundtrack, we are transported back even more fully to the early 1970s in time and music, which also underscores Chris's journey to see and experience the moai. After seeing the "big heads," he confesses that he really wanted to see Venice, but... you know.
Chris finds comfort watching the wild horses that run amidst the island's verdant pastures, and one, in particular, comes upon a pensive Chris in the fields and nuzzles him with genuine affection. Later, when Chris discovers the horse dead in the road, he concludes that being with the horse has actualy given him comfort about his own impending death. Relating this event to Lee, Chris quietly, slowly recites the lyrics to (his favorite artist) Hank Williams's "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," and you can feel every word, every syllable, every heartbreaking emotion behind the verse about a robin weeping as winter begins to set in.
It's all riveting, "can't take your eyes off it" cinema, and McDonagh has, once again, managed to make us laugh and cry all at once. If you read other critics's reviews (re: NYTimes, New Yorker some local reviewers), you might find less enthusiasm for McDonagh's blend of humor and heartlessness. For whatever reason, American critics seem less effusive about McDonagh's work than the Brits or international pundits. He's never won an Oscar for writing or directing one of his feature-length films, but he has won six BAFTA's. Perhaps, more playwright than screenwriter, McDonagh's dark stories are often considered "too provocative" for mainstream audiences.
Whatever. The matinee that I attended was energized by people (myself included) who were noticeably engaged: laughing often and paying attention to the story. Highly entertaining and razor-sharp intelligent, Wild Horse Nine raises questions about how we live, how we die, who we trust, and why we should never entertain any notions about going to Arkansas.
*******
Wild Horse Nine is rated "R" for language (lots of variations on "fuck"), adult situations and a few moments of intense, sometimes bloody violence. It premiered at this year's Venice Film Festival, with Malkovich winning the Volpi Cup for Best Actor. Its North American premiere at Telluride brought additional accolades (and Oscar buzz). Expect more as the awards season nears, so streaming is not scheduled anytime soon. When it does, it will likely appear first on Disney+, followed by other streaming platforms. Stay tuned.
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