Since making her debut in 1994, Kelly Reichardt has established herself as one of the best
independent filmmakers working in America..
Her films are instantly identifiable through their drifting characters, who typically inhabit
environments that are hostile to them, most frequently the arid plains and mountainous
wilds of Oregon.
Her stories unfold at a gentle pace, and while they flirt with familiar genre elements – from
crime to the western – they invariably cleave to a minimalist style.
Reichardt’s films can be demanding, but her sparse narratives are rich in meaning.
Let’s delve into her back catalogue to find out just what makes her so critically acclaimed.
Wendy and Lucy was the first of Reichardt’s films to feature Michelle Williams, and was
co-written with Jonathan Raymond, another frequent collaborator.
Williams plays Wendy opposite a canine co-star, Reichardt’s own dog, Lucy.
Wendy is a drifter, working her way to Alaska in the hope of finding a job.
Her trip is cut short when her car breaks down, and a run of bad luck leads to her already
precarious situation getting much, much worse.
Wendy is in some ways a typical Reichardt protagonist; she’s searching for something,
but never seems to make any real progress.
She’s also plagued by events out of her control, in most cases exacerbated by her
desperate circumstances.
She’s not just short on cash, but also socially isolated; a brief phone call to her brother-in-law
is the only hint of her friendships or relatives, and much of the film’s plot revolves around
Wendy’s attempts to regain custody of Lucy after she is taken to the dog pound.
No moment in the film better summarises her problems than a sequence where Wendy, now
sleeping rough in a park, is awoken by a strange man.
Afraid for her life, Wendy manages to make a run for it before collapsing in tears in
the bathroom of a nearby gas station, alone and afraid.
Reichardt often situates her characters in sparsely populated environments, like the
remote forests of Old Joy and Night Moves, or the urban wasteland of Wendy and Lucy.
This is particularly striking in her 2010 film Meek’s Cutoff, which focuses on the
women of a lost wagon train as they wander the Oregon desert circa 1845.
Ostensibly a western, the film’s 1.37:1 aspect ratio mimics the limited field of view
of its bonnet-clad heroines, and is a far cry from the widescreen vistas associated
with the western genre.
The vast, dry plains, withered shrubs and fierce rivers present significant boundaries
to the characters crossing them, and the camera continuously lingers on the women in their
long dresses and bonnets, isolated against the landscape.
This mirrors a sense of isolation within the narrative, as the women are unable to contribute
to any decision-making despite clearly identifying their incompetent guide, Stephen Meek, as
a threat to their future survival.
As the film progresses, the desperation of the group becomes still more apparent when
their water reserves runs low; while the characters frequently discuss the bounty that awaits
them in the West, the area they currently inhabit is barren.
In this early sequence, Meek rides ahead and finds water.
Ecstatic, they race after him, only to discover that the water is alkali – undrinkable.
In Certain Women, Reichardt pushes her minimalist style even further.
The film is told in three distinct chapters, each following a different woman: an attorney,
played byLaura Dern, a woman working with her husband to build a house (Michelle Williams),
and a lonely farmhand (Lily Gladstone) connecting with a student lawyer (Kristen Stewart).
Their stories occasionally overlap, but never in consequential ways.
Instead, each chapter stands as its own character study.
The camera is often static and there is almost no music, with Reichardt favouring a diegetic
soundtrack.
Dialogue is used sparingly, and tends to concern that which is left unsaid rather than what
is explicitly stated.
In this sequence, for example, Williams and her husband head out to a family friend to
convince him to sell them some sandstone.
"Albert, so we were wondering about the sandstone in the front yard
and if you'd be willing to sell it to us?"
He barely acknowledges her and circles around topics in an unclear way.
"Have you talked to Kyle Yazzy lately?"
He seems uncomfortable with a modern woman, and addresses the husband instead of Williams.
Later, they return to take the stone, and he watches her from the window.
She waves, and he does nothing.
This low key moment is typical of Reichardt’s cinema, where complex emotions and themes
are expressed through painterly landscapes, simple gestures and a look.
First Cow, Reichardt’s seventh feature, follows a pair of travellers in Oregon in
the early part of the 19th century, as they conspire to secretly use a landowner’s cow
for their own gain.
With the help of the cow- Evie- they open a bakery, while concealing the use of the
animal from its owner (Toby Jones).
With its spectacular portrayal of the Pacific Northwest, characters living on the edge in
search of better things, and unobtrusive directorial style, First Cow contains all the hallmarks
of a classic Kelly Reichardt film.