words Jake Munn
Whilst watching National Anthem, the latest film from director Luke Gilford, you may be forgiven for expecting a twist in the tale, a climax to this slow-burn, queer romantic-drama. But therein lies the film’s greatest strength; to subvert a conditioned audience’s expectations towards queer cinema to deliver what turns out to be a rather feel-good sort of movie that thrives in its own romantic sentimentality.
The film follows a construction worker turned ranch-hand called Dylan (a gentle yet brilliant performance from Charlie Plummer), flitting about rural New Mexico looking for work to feed his mother (Robyn Lively) and his little brother, Cassidy (Joey DeLeon), all whilst trying to save enough money to start a new life for himself on the road. Not long into the film, Dylan’s conflicted sexuality is apparent, and he happens across a ranch called House of Splendor. The ranch operates much like a commune, offering refuge to a troupe of queer rodeo performers who become as a second family to him.
Whilst working on the ranch, Dylan falls for Sky, (Eve Lindley), the partner of ranch owner Pepe (Rene Rosado). As Dylan begins to come to terms with his own sexuality, their bond grows, Dylan’s world opens, and a reckoning of Dylan’s identity takes place.
This is a sumptuous film to watch. Gilford, aided by the cinematography of Katelin Arizmendi and the editing talents of Amber Bansak and Josh Schaeffer, presents the vast, mountainous landscapes as a closed world, making the characters feel like they exist on their own planet, free from outside interference. At first, this raises questions: doesn’t Cassidy go to school? How do this large crowd fill an entire supermarket and goof around free of consequence? But Gilford asks us to step out of our expectations, instead bringing our focus squarely onto what matters most; the heartfelt empathy underpinning each scene, connecting Dylan to those around him, family, friends and lovers alike. We become lost within Dylan’s daydreams, the erotic tension he experiences blurring the line between fantasy and reality. This macro approach to the character’s world is a clever move to what might otherwise be a predictable romantic plot. We second guess ourselves every step of the way, discovering subtlety where we perhaps expect to find melodrama.
Dylan’s alienation is mirrored in his surroundings; a lonely, empty sweep of terrain reminiscent of Spaghetti Western movies. The ranch feels idyllic by contrast, too good to be true, but as the film finds its feet in the second act, so does the audience, allowing us to concentrate on the camaraderie of this unique fellowship, their highs and lows but also their unfaltering kindness towards Dylan and Cassidy.
Character development is paramount in National Anthem. A film that frequently brings into question tightly held ideas of personal identity from different perspectives, including a national one. The relationship between Dylan and his mother takes prominence in the final act, the film unashamedly optimistic in its hopes for its characters who may only move forward just a little. But in a world like this, that’s significant.
As the US national anthem is sung by a drag queen over the final parting of the ways, the film leaves its final, poignant mark. It will pave the way for conversation afterwards and could well direct the future of modern queer cinema.
National Anthem is on UK and Ireland digital platforms today from Blue Finch Film Releasing.
