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First Cow (Kelly Reichardt, 2019)
Pisanelloās The Vision of St Eustace presents to the viewer a flat landmass of ruptured greens and browns. Cliffs drop off at precipices and descend into deep forests which spread through valleys and stretch north to a distant plain; all meeting at unwieldy dimensional angles where continent like plateaus rise up next to finely detailed trees. Across this view his rich portraits of animals are placed as if objects on a tabletop. Creatures he depicts with an astonishing eye for physiognomy, retaining some distant, and unknowable dignity. He doesnāt seek to soften their faces towards human forms but accentuates the strange angularity. The landscape has an ancient permanence but not stillness. Within the dark trees we can see the leaves tossed and turned by wind as a river of silver blue hair, rushes through the centre of the valley. To the North East a stork, its wings extending, prepares for flight; an oddly angled bear climbs over a steep rockery; one of the hunting dogs gnashes his teeth at the approaching stag, another turns back towards his master. We are drawn to the simplest of gestures in St. Eustace, his hand stretched forward, his slender fingers slightly curled in uncertainty. All of these features create a dilating effect on both space and time, a queasy sense of movement rolling across our view; past and present, near and far, compressed in an instant. An arrival into a land seemingly yet untouched by humans, where the animals too, stand out against a primeval landscape. In the scale of time perhaps they have only just preceded man here.
Itās a painting that came to mind often during Kelly Reichardtās First Cow, not least for how the golden brown of the titular creature looks against the pacific northwest backdrop. The cow is the latest of many recent arrivals to a disparate outpost in the Oregon territory, populated by trappers, Native Americans, English gentleman and others, sometime in the 19th century - although a brief prologue questions overt notions of past and present. Muddy browns, lush greens and rich golds coalesce to form mattes broken by sudden reveals of perspective when man or beast arrives into the forest. Someone remarks that if cows belonged here God would have put them here himself, another says surely that means the same for the white man. King Lu (Orion Lee) has arrived here after seeing much of the world, Cookie Figowitz (John Magaro) seems as if he just woke up here. King says the land feels new, to Cookie its ancient. Only King realises they mean the same thing.
Cookie is a meek soul, his tender quiet nature at odds with the fur trappers he finds work cooking for. Often unable to find words he resorts to gestures, instinctively reaching for the broom once left for a moment in Kingās cabin, unable to express his affection otherwise. King on the other hand is practical and dignified. Cookie is resolutely trapped in the present to near paralysis where King is always looking toward the future. Vocalising his trains of thought to Cookie, he sees in the first cow an opportunity for men alienated by class and race. The two meet, cohabitate, form a friendship, maybe something more, itās never fully elucidated, only radiating sweet innocent beauty.
Covertly milking the cow at night, the baked product of their labour soon begins to gather attention, not least from the bovineās wealthy owner. All of the transactional exchanges, of capital and coinage, are shown with crucial attention to their physicality; from udders, to dirty hands to clean ones. Thereās one particularly delightful scene in which Cookie is delicately dropping blueberries into a clafoutis batter. He does so with such caring confidence, yet unseen, thatās itās utterly captivating. The most sentimental film Iāve seen of Reichardtās, such warmth is found throughout; although she maybe leans a little too far into a knowing cute when Cookie murmurs āhello, how are youā to the oblivious cowā¦ but I wonāt lie and say I wasnāt touched. The light shadow of Altmanās McCabe and Mrs Miller can be sensed, in the mud and presence of Rene Auberjonois, as well as the architecture of the plot; but where poor John McCabe raged against the limits of his being with a mutter of āI got poetry in meā, Cookie is in simple mercy to his environment.
Surface level allegories can be read here - sure the cow is capitalism, inasmuch that any business venture in any film is capitalism - but it feels as if Reichardt is, rather, reaching back to something deeper. Touching on primal relationships to nature and landscapes, and then, yes, their enrichment or perversion by social relations; all captured in a history of the small. Finding philosophy in the poetry of little gestures and quiet lives among the pines and ferns. Hands grasp for mushrooms and blueberries then pass them to one another; scrabbling for change in their pockets; a gecko turned on a leaf; honey dripped over a baked comestible. All of these transactional, transitional, movements, from land to man to friend carry the weight of their first discovery and endless repetition. We are recent arrivals. What may seem small and distant only happened yesterday. It was here but a moment ago.
Other Films I Watched This Week
Old Joy (Kelly Reichardt, 2006) - Feels like a key Bush era work.
Mr Hayashi (Bruce Baillie, 1961)
Quixote (Baillie, 1965)
To Parsifal (Baillie, 1963)
The News #3 (The Peace Rally) (Baillie, 1962)
Here I Am (Baillie, 1962)
Castro Street (Baillie, 1966)
Loved a fair few of these. Can only imagine how much is missing not seeing them on film.
this was the first week i was able to see some friends and family since early march. there seems less and less to hold on to each day but it was restorative to see the faces of people i care about.
hope you all have a lovely week.
james
xx