Chloe Zhao's The Rider is largely a meditative delight. The tale of a young rodeo rider, Brady Jandreau, recovering from a horrific mishap, The Rider alternates lyrical scenes of men and horses with scenes of Brady's physical rehabilitation and struggles to survive on a Lakota reservation in South Dakota. Zhao's camera is an impassive spectator of both the natural beauty of the American plains and the rusted squalor surrounding those trying to eke out a life on the edge of US society. Her use of a non-professional cast, as in her debut Songs My Brother Taught Me, strips the movie of dynamics and drama, but also allows Zhao to create scenes of beauty and mystery.
Chief among these scenes are those showing Brady breaking stallions. The choice to avoid quick cuts and Mr. Jandreau's skill with horses are enough to create many lovely moments. This contrasts nicely with the neo-realist portrait of a life of limited possibilities on the reservation. Jandreau's father and sister play versions of themselves. While this leads to a few awkward moments, it also leads towards a verisimilitude akin to the Dardenne brothers, Aki Kaurismaki and, especially, Robert Bresson. Like that austere Frenchman, Zhao is portraying a spiritual quest amidst materialist squalor.
Zhao, like Bresson, averts sentimentality with an impassive gaze: especially when Brady visits his paralyzed comrade Lane; tenderness alternates with terror. Also, as in Bresson, Zhao displays a fetishistic visual fascination with hands, particularly Brady's damaged right hand. Zhao further fetishizes the accoutrements of rodeo life: saddles, bridles, chaps, etc. All to make tactile Brady's quest to connect with some of nature's finest specimens. The Rider is a memorable film that bodes well for Zhao's future. (1/19/19)
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