First Cow
A24It’s important not to undermine the power cinema has over controlling emotion. We’re experiencing an unprecedented time, where convention is overthrown and extreme measures have become the norm. Kelly Reichardt’s latest directorial effort, First Cow, reaches out a hand and pulls us back down to earth. Following release disputes after being entrapped in the lockdown crossfire, this feels like the kind of film we all need right now.
First Cow is an education in crafting atmosphere. Reichardt deploys all her cinematic tools to create a portrait of the Pacific Northwest, terrifying in its vastness yet ethereal in natural beauty. This is in no small part thanks to frequent Reichardt cinematographer, Christopher Blauvelt, who continues to prove his prowess at capturing the calm and the calculated. The breathtaking compositions here seem reminiscent of paintings by Albert Bierstadt, reassessing this hostile country through a romantic lens. This balance of serenity and danger meanders along to William Tyler’s lullaby-like score, a soothing soundscape that incorporates within it a Western twang.
The focal duo, Cookie (John Magaro) and King-Lu (Orion Lee), exude warmth and compassion throughout with suitably understated performances, impacting their modest community in their own modest way. This relationship is an entirely wholesome one; beginning as a gesture of good will, then a friendship of convenience, finally evolving into a brotherhood. Reichardt doesn’t try to change the way we perceive our lives, but helps us appreciate the smaller things. This is visible through an undisturbed focus on the minutiae of setting and character, used to reflect the wider world. The filmmaking here is so precise that even the smallest alterations have a crucial impact on the tone. Brief moments of drama aren’t only visible in these performances, but also in the disruption of the films grammar.
First Cow is certainly cinema of subtlety, but that is not to say that its impact is whatsoever diminished. Audiences unfamiliar with Reichardt may struggle with the pacing here, but the speed at which it moves is integral to its success. This is a languorous tale of small-town prosperity, depicting the hunter-gatherer lifestyle so many experienced on the Frontier in all its glorious mundanity. It’s a credit to Reichardt’s talent that she makes the everyday compelling and wholly cinematic.
Upon its conclusion, it becomes clear that First Cow joins an enviable, yet slim, filmic family. Alongside tonal relatives like David Lowery’s The Old Man and the Gun, it is cinema for the soul. Whilst it perhaps views the Frontier through rose-tinted glasses, Reichardt’s priorities are clear. Life, in all its walks, are dull. Sometimes infused with drama, sometimes levity, but largely boredom. She takes this universal experience and turns it into something beautiful. If that isn’t a triumph, then what is?
