So much of the American cowboy mythos —the way they talk, the silhouette they cut, the clothes they wear — has been codified, if not invented wholesale, by Hollywood. From first shot to last, Kate Beecroft’s “East of Wall” expands our perception of those iconic horse wranglers to consider the women so often overlooked. In the tradition of Chloé Zhao’s “The Rider,” this eye-opening 21st-century Western was inspired by real people: Debuting writer-director Beecroft convinced the Zimiga family — most notably single mom Tabitha and her TikTok star, rodeo queen daughter Porshia — to participate in an drama extrapolated from their own lives, all but rewriting the genre with the result.
Beecroft derives unquantifiably rich scenic value from the stunning South Dakota horizons, including weightless drone shots through the vast, corrugated folds of the Badlands. But it’s the tough, sun-blasted faces of her largely non-professional cast that lend “East of Wall” the sense of raw, lived-in experience that sets Beecroft’s years-long project apart. The helmers rounds out the ensemble with stars Jennifer Ehle and Scoot McNary, who are convincing enough as the moonshine-brewing matriarch and deep-pocketed Texas rancher, respectively. And yet, while you can teach an actor to drawl, spit tobacco and ride a horse, those shots of Porshia bolting across the horizon faster than her mom’s pickup truck can keep up … well, there’s just no faking that.
A staunchly built South Dakota single mom with tattoos down both arms and her long blond hair shaved on one side, Tabitha Zimiga has three kids of her own, but welcomes others whose parents can’t provide to pitch in and stay on her 3,000-acre ranch. “Wranglin’ the girls is harder than wranglin’ the horses,” says this fierce den mother, who gave up her passion after the death of her husband John. Blessed with the ability to diagnose what a traumatized animal needs, she still gentles feral horses, but doesn’t dare get back in the saddle, lest a fall leave her injured and unable of caring for the human herd that depends on her.
Porshia, who is sulky at times and an unbridled firecracker at others, resents her mom for what happened to John. By Porshia’s own account (whispered over quiet segments of the film, à la naive-child narration in “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” right down to the roiling-earth sound effects), John taught her to ride and served as a better father to the kids than her biological dad did. But there’s more to the story than the ungrateful teen realizes. Late in the film, Tabitha gathers around a campfire with her screen mom (Ehle, smoking and swearing like she grew up in boots), her real-life mom (Tracey Osmotherly, briefly seen in braids) and a handful of hardened frontier women, and she tells the whole story.
The dynamic between Porshia and Tabitha feels genuine in moments of both camaraderie and conflict. When Tabitha asks her daughter to run into the store and buy provisions on credit, Porshia shoots her a look that suggests it’s a well-trod routine, and one that’s grown unbearably embarrassing through repetition. Porshia acts out when she can, clearly hungry for her mom’s attention, which is split between two younger brothers and half a dozen strays whose parents are behind bars or otherwise unfit. Tabitha sometimes runs into those folks around town, and they make hollow promises to send her money.
She could use the help. Tabitha hasn’t been earning enough selling her tamed horses at local livestock auctions, where her gals put on a good show, doing tricks to rap music in the ring (not just Porshia, but also the adoptive teens she supports). Still, the sales barns have been disastrous, and the Zamiga family is running out of options. Enter Roy Waters (McNairy), a wealthy Texas rancher who drives a six-door mega truck and knows something special when he sees it.
The subplot between Roy and Tabitha is slow to emerge, if only because Beecroft seems more interested in presenting a docu-adjacent portrait of Tabitha Zamiga and her clan — one poetically enhanced by eloquent narration and authentic-sounding dialogue. “Life’s a real metaphor,” Ehle’s rugged-as-jerky Tracey observes. That might not be true of your life, but Beecroft organizes the Zamigas’ chaotic struggle into something poetic, using Roy’s uninvited involvement as the backbone of what follows, as this self-made outsider makes an offer to buy the ranch and underwrite their operation.
So much of Tabitha’s horse work is about trust, getting a skittish animal to accept that she means no harm. Now, the equation is reversed, as Roy extends his support to Tabitha, who’s warily reluctant to accept. No wonder he admires her: Compared to her own loose-cannon mom (whom Ehle plays as a wild spirit with a blood alcohol level well above the legal limit), Tabitha has brought order to the land, the livestock and the ragged chosen family that surrounds her.
As photographed by Austin Shelton, the widescreen images — and even the vertical TikTok videos braided alongside — convey a hopeful vision of their future, more fresh start than elegy. As metaphors go, Roy might mean well, but he also represents a different West than the one Tabitha and her family are committed to forging. As one character aptly puts it: “Welcome to the New West, old man.”
English (US) ·