Dylan (Charlie Plummer) is down on his luck. A 21-year-old construction worker working odd jobs in rural New Mexico, he struggles to bring home enough cash to support his family—let alone initiate the glorious and messy process of hacking into the barren, unexplored terrain of his own interests, hopes and dreams. Things take a change, however, when Pepe (Rene Rosado) pulls up to Dylan’s worksite, soliciting a handful of farm-hands for a mysterious job. Desperate for work, Dylan hops into the back of Pepe’s pickup truck, blissfully unaware that his one-note life is about to change for good.
The destination is The House of Splendor: A ranch run by Pepe and his partner Sky (Eve Lindley), a free-spirited, hypnotic barrel racer. Everyone who sets eyes on Sky is instantaneously transfixed. Dylan is no exception. Typically reserved and aloof, he begins to fantasize about her: Sitting bareback on a horse against the magnificent backdrop of rugged western mountains, bathed in luminous desert light. You can probably guess where this is going, right?
Don’t be so sure. The beauty of National Anthem is that it effortlessly challenges all expectations and preconceived notions. Helmed by photographer Luke Gilford in his feature directorial debut, National Anthem is an extension of his 2020 photo project of the same name, which showcases the International Gay Rodeo Association. Throughout the work, Gilford uses rich, tender, intimate portraits of queer cowboys to refute our pre-established perception of Americana culture and aesthetic.
National Anthem largely accomplishes the same thing. What initially promises to follow a budding romance between Dylan and Sky quickly puts their love story on the backburner, instead metamorphosing into a film about self-discovery by way of a groundbreaking reappropriation of the American West. Dylan and Sky’s relationship never quite becomes what you think it will be, and as the two challenge the conventions of a typical love story, Gilford implements classic Americana iconography—bull-riding, cowboy hats, Tractor Supply-esque superstores—to emphasize an upheaval of everything we thought we knew about Westerns. National Anthem functions as a cathartic, queer upheaval of the heteronormative American Dream.
None of this could have been accomplished without Gilford’s remarkable visual sensibilities, which are strengthened here by cinematographer Katelin Arizmendi (Swallow, Cam). With penetrating, portrait-style close-ups encircled by vast, rugged landscape, Gilford and Arizmendi craft a sense of belonging for National Anthem’s ensemble. Dylan’s fantasy scenes, on the other hand, transcend the raw atmosphere of the majority of the film, composed of painstakingly choreographed sequences that border on the magical-real, grounded by familiar landscape and an even more familiar red, white and blue color palette. The juxtaposition of fantasy and well-crafted realism showcases a unique aesthetic sensibility that confirms that the American Dream doesn’t just belong to one perspective.
The radical intimacy of National Anthem is aided greatly by its performances. Plummer plays Dylan with impossible restraint—so unobtrusive that when emotion does seep through, it carries an exceptional weight and intensity. Rosado also wonderfully subverts expectations as Pepe: A rough-around-the-edges cowboy who ultimately defies any promise of jealousy and possessiveness.
But it is Lindley who really steals the show. With exceptional charisma, it’s easy to spot her as an up-and-coming star the moment she struts on screen. Her ability to effortlessly oscillate between free-spirited and emotionally vulnerable services Sky as the most complex and fascinating character in National Anthem.
Indeed, each of the film’s characters is more intricate than the last, reminding us that, despite being based on a photography project, National Anthem doesn’t lean too heavily on its visuals. The script, also penned by Gilford, alongside Kevin Best and David Largman Murray, twists and weaves in unpredictable ways—at first promising tragedy when viewers inevitably recall tragic queer Westerns such as Brokeback Mountain, then romance, then none of the above. At times, the dialogue can feel a little stilted—particularly scenes between Dylan and his unpredictable mother, Fiona (Robyn Lively), but the surprising, unconventional ebbs and flows of the story outweigh awkward or overly expositional moments. And to keep viewers surprised, while also confidently challenging the very fabric of the American West, is a mighty and somewhat miraculous feat. It’s the kind of accomplishment that will have you counting down the days until Gilford’s next endeavor.
Director: Luke Gilford
Writers: Luke Gilford, Kevin Best, David Largman Murray
Stars: Charlie Plummer, Eve Lindley, Rene Rosado, Mason Alexander Park, Robyn Lively
Release Date: March 10, 2023 (SXSW)
Aurora Amidon is a film journalist and passionate defender of Hostel: Part II. Follow her on Twitter for her latest questionable culture takes.