Review of Slow West (2015) by Brad S — 22 Feb 2016

Westerns are better off when they're bleak, unrelenting, and quiet, introspective in their every move and always sweating from the violent anticipation that surrounds them. I'll take a Sergio Leone spaghetti western over a cheery Roy Rogers show any day; while I like the bright-eyed, Technicolor phoniness of the latter, the western doesn't feel like a genre one can truthfully execute without hanging gloominess mixing into the cocktail of bullets, black coffee, and unbreakable attitudes.

So "Slow West" is made all the better because it combines the best qualities of both, presenting us with a dreamy, roundly pigmented world where everything looks as pretty as an Old West Norman Rockwell might have envisioned, but, in reality, still holds as many murders and double-crosses as the world Billy the Kid lived in. It is an example of conscientious filmmaking that holds grittiness in as high of a regard as stylistic, Douglas Sirk artifice. The film is opulent on the eyes and is often times provocative in its storytelling characteristics. But I'm more infatuated with "Slow West" on a visual level than I am on an emotional one; I hold its fashionable exterior in higher esteem than I do the film itself.

But that doesn't dampen what it achieves artistically. It focuses on Jay Cavendish (Kodi Smit-McPhee), a Scottish teenager roaming the Western frontier in hopes to stumble upon Rose Ross (Caren Pistorius), his alleged love who has gone missing for reasons muddled to him. His trek finds a companion in Silas Selleck (Michael Fassbender), a bounty hunter whose motivations are unclear. During their journey do they run into various suspicious personalities as threatening as they are to each other; their partnership is hasty, and neither knows much about the other - their getting acquainted promises an eventual (and perhaps mandatory) violent showdown.

A perceptive ambience keeps "Slow West" from turning into another seen-it-all-before western, its picturesque coloring and tendency to delve into black comedy territory making it a cabinet of curiosities that stands as one of the most memorable directorial debuts of the year, coming from musician turned filmmaker John M. Maclean. Comparable to Tarantino in the sense that there is an unmistakable admiration for cinema deep within his soul, every shot in "Slow West" is sensorily delicate, the landscape of the Old West appearing as a detailed canvas painting of intimate refinement.

The story doesn't always match the astounding elegance of the film's sheen, but the actors are well-cast, and Maclean's compact handling of everything leaves an impression. There is no doubt that he'll go on to make bigger, more impactful films - just wait until he's in the shoes of a Colin Trevorrow or a Rian Johnson, starting off small until the big time hits him like a mallet.