The Mustang, 2019.
Directed by Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre.
Starring Matthias Schoenaerts, Gideon Adlon, Jason Mitchell, Bruce Dern, Josh Stewart, and Connie Britton.
SYNOPSIS:
While participating in a rehabilitation program training wild mustangs, a convict at first struggles to connect with the horses and his fellow inmates, but he learns to confront his violent past as he soothes an especially feisty horse.
One of the many great storytelling decisions within The Mustang (Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre making her debut feature-length film, a spin on her short Rabbit) is that the family drama is kept to a minimum in order to maintain focus on the numerous parallels between inmates undergoing rehabilitation and untamed captive animals. However, when there are correctional facility visits from Roman Coleman’s (Matthias Schoenaerts) hurting and pregnant daughter Martha (played by relative newcomer Gideon Adlon, following up a charming performance in the raunchy teen comedy Blockers with an impressive emotional one here), they don’t just resonate and expand on the unfolding narrative, they directly confront the viewer with a complicated question that is absolutely vital to the current times, and that is, even if Roman is able to progress enough to be reintegrated back into society, does he deserve forgiveness from his daughter or anyone? Can his actions ever be forgiven? Should they ever be forgiven?
I’m not going to divulge the crime that has Roman serving 12 years in prison and counting other than that it is a violent one and a particularly nasty display of toxic masculinity resulting from overwhelming anger issues. However, even with such a short fuse Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre never over directs Matthias Schoenaerts into a caricature. If he has an explosive outburst (verbal or physical aggression) it comes from a disturbingly real place. During one of these visits with Martha (which, by the way, it should be mentioned that she is trying to distance herself from him but needs to sign over some important paperwork to sell a family home), the conversation organically heats up, with Roman going from 4 to 10 in terms of rage instantaneously.
Roman probably sounds unlikable, and that’s the point. Naturally, The Mustang makes you wait before he emotionally recounts his crime face-to-face to Martha, and as you learn the details along with the aftermath… well, it’s not like your opinion is going to change. If anything, you will think less of him regardless of if you thought your disgust could not sink lower. The point is that, for all the evil actions committed by Roman, he is a character that you don’t hate, or necessarily empathize with, but one you want to understand and help just as much as his psychologist (played by Connie Britton). The Mustang contains many towering cinematic accomplishments; the photography is exquisite, the music almost feels like an extension of the characters as it alternates between powerful and nuanced while always carrying beauty, the acting is extraordinary, and for a story that feels relatively straightforward from its premise, boasts what will likely go down as one of the most stunning, thought-provoking, and heartrending ending shots in a movie this year.
Still, above all else is the delicate and rich characterization of Roman, someone who you are rooting for to successfully tame his horse (the facility has a program where inmates can help train the wild animals, herded up with the assistance of a helicopter in an absolutely gorgeous opening segment), but also a human being to revile. Striking such a balance is a phenomenal filmmaking accomplishment, and Schoenarts delivers a career-best performance finding humanity within all of that anger. Inspired by true events, the film wants to remind less empathetic people that criminals are also human beings and that some of them can actually rehabilitate themselves into society, being able to walk amongst your neighborhood posing no threat. It’s also not afraid to admit that some people, much like wild animals, can’t be broken.
Bruce Dern plays Myles, the head caretaker of these animals, utilizing the sardonic humor to be expected from him, but is also granted quite a few memorable speeches himself. Jason Mitchell is also here as another one of the inmates, also serving as a mentor of sorts to Roman. Accounting for them, Connie Britton, and Gideon Adlon, The Mustang has one hell of a supporting cast that elevates the drama and the complexity of Roman as a human being. Now for the horses; some of the parallels might feel a little obvious, but it’s breathtaking witnessing Roman slowly surrender his anger, relax his nerves, and inevitably begin to bond with his Mustang that he decides to name Marcus. The ride there can be occasionally upsetting (Roman is not a natural at this and faces setbacks that he doesn’t handle well), but there is a role reversal of a key scene towards the end that is poetic. The Mustang also asks the loaded question of who is meant to be free and who should forever stay in captivity. It wrestles with a monumental amount of moral ethics, rendering itself enthralling from beginning to end.
Aside from some slight predictability, there is also a subplot involving Roman obtaining drugs for another prisoner, and while it makes sense to show some of his prison life, it doesn’t necessarily amount to anything but a sad moment that could probably be pulled off just as compelling without sacrificing time to it. It’s far more gripping watching Roman browse horse magazines or hang up a newly taken picture of him and Martha. As he begins to realize that maybe he can rehabilitate, overcome his anger problems, and find empathy, that picture becomes highly motivational.
The Mustang is riveting, full stop. Its social relevance comes from many different angles, Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre is as confident and assured as a veteran filmmaker, and the character drama is as real as they come. And if you’re the kind of person advocating for every criminal to receive the death penalty, then you definitely need to see this film. Human beings are complex, but we have to try understanding everyone, including the monsters. What’s absolute is that people can change, while forgiveness is in the hands of the victims.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, friend me on Facebook, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, check out my personal non-Flickering Myth affiliated Patreon, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
