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by AFlickering
Fri Dec 28, 2012 7:41 am
Forum: Full Reviews
Topic: meek's cutoff (kelly reichardt)
Replies: 0
Views: 1402

meek's cutoff (kelly reichardt)

hired to assist a group of settlers in navigating a shortcut across a dried-up oregon desert, the titular meek (bruce greenwood, great) stands as figurehead for the vices of the traditional western, leading the party astray with his incessant streams of misinformation, self-mythologising and fearmongering. this hallucinatory allegory from kelly reichardt (old joy, wendy & lucy) skewers the genre outright, demonstrating the dangers of its vanity and bluster, refusing to follow it into death. by extension, as it wanders lost upon a boundless stretch of sand, meek's cutoff implicates a country incapable of shedding the fervent jingoism ingrained in its wild west mythology, waging war against the middle east on the back of falsehoods (the question "is he ignorant, or just plain evil?" is asked of meek, as well as "i don't blame him for not knowing. i blame him for saying he did"), bigotry, paranoia and machismo.

manifest destiny is perceived here to be a conceit of the white american male, and the shift in perspective is exhaustive; it's a woman whose even gaze best penetrates meek's braggadocio, and an indian "savage" (rod dondeaux) who renders meek redundant, usurping his status as agreed-upon guide of the group. the film is based loosely on a series of journals written by women, and reichardt inhabits their perspective via a "cutoff" aspect ratio which, not unlike the bonnets these women must wear, blinkers our view of this vast landscape considerably. this aesthetic dualism of freedom and restriction runs deep; emily (michelle williams, again great) is certainly the strongest character here, demonstrating a measured, visionary perspective that only her husband shares with any enthusiasm, but the women are largely deferential to the men's decision-making (often portrayed from a distance via mumblings that are difficult to parse) at least publicly (emily's marriage to husband soloman is surprisingly, convincingly egalitarian in private), and a caged bird transported with them denotes the irony of "free" american expansionists shackling their women. indeed, although everybody is treated with the respect that comes with recognising their necessity to the survival of this small party, each person's role in this group has been delineated by social traditions stretching back to biblical times - "we're all just playing our parts now, this was written before we got here", a resigned meek says in one moment of clarity.

the indian meanwhile isn't humanised/victimised for paternal liberal sympathy, nor imbued with exotic, mystical wisdom (though, like emily, there's a certain sharpness in the eyes as he surveys his situation), nor given even to acting particularly suspiciously - mostly he just serves as an extension of the wilderness, indifferent to the drama surrounding him. he's only as intimidating as any inscrutable mystery is, a blank canvas upon whom each individual viewer will no doubt project their own prejudices, just like the characters themselves, whose reactions range from hysterical terror to wary watchfulness. emily allies with him not out of gooey principle but pragmatism, understanding that prejudice and superstition must fall away in the face of bare survivalist need--that a truce with nature is required, however temporary.

if meek resembles man's uglier side, the trust and respect denied him is nonetheless offered to every viewer; reichardt's direction is remarkable for its quiet, unhurried grace, allowing these otherworldly plains to unfold with yawning disinterest around these scrabbling men and women, focusing ritualistically on the minutae of their struggles to traverse them. there are moments when cutoff allows a kind of awe for the best qualities of its inhabitants; they transcend their antlike smallness by addressing their struggles with determination and dignity, and you can practically taste the dust in their throats, feel their jangling nerves as they try to concentrate on putting their calloused hands to mundane and monotonous, though life-and-death crucial, tasks. it's surreal and humbling to watch these frontiersmen and women work, and appreciate you and your country's existence as being dependent on their persistence in the face of the unknown.

kimberley jones writes that "location determines plot" in reichardt's films, but this is only because location has determined the history of the united states; the group's palpable dislocation from and dependence on this arid wasteland and its natives provides the beating heart of the piece, and serves as a microcosm of the existential crossroads at the heart of american identity, literalised by the appearance of a tree looking suspiciously like a jodorowskyian mirage at the mysterious conclusion, echoing the passage from genesis spoken aloud earlier in the picture concerning the "tree of life" (aye, there's some malick here too). the film is so hypnotically imbued with a country's inherent tension and unease that it largely evades accusations of soulless pretension its arty inertia might attract, and it never allows a moral agenda to compromise its devout naturalism. yes, reichardt clearly admires emily above all others in this picture, but not due to some innate moral decency or compassion so much as her instinct for survival, her scorn for those who lengthen the odds. the naturalism works here because reichardt's biases are aligned with what she considers to be nature's biases; people like emily lead us to survival, whilst people like meek would have us perish. from our place in the shadow of the bush administration, with soldiers continuing to file out like cattle to the slaughter, it's difficult to disagree.