A stripped down, but wonderfully impactful and affecting look at forming and embracing personal identity, Luke Gilford’s first feature National Anthem is one of the most disarming and surprising films of the year. Based on a photographic monograph of the same name by Gilford, this fictionalized story of a sad young man who experiences an awakening when put in front of the right people is a complex, reserved, thoroughly lived in drama that allows the viewer intimate access into a world filled with intriguing people with unique personalities all living under the same desert sky. It could be called a piece of Americana, but National Anthem is something far more potent. It’s resoundingly and unquestionably human.
Quiet and reserved twenty-one year old Dylan (Charlie Plummer) lives in small town New Mexico with his irresponsible hairdresser mom (Robin Lively) and a little brother (Joey DeLon) that he has to care for most of the time. Dylan makes a meagre living lining up for cash paying, back breaking, day labour gigs every morning. He never seems happy about it, but Dylan keeps at it, hoping to one day raise enough cash to buy himself an RV and get out of town for good. Dylan is picked up alongside some other guys by Pepe (Rene Rosado) to come do some work on a secluded ranch for a few weeks. When he arrives, Dylan is surprised to see he will be working at a place known as House of Splendor, a ranch populated by queer rodeo workers. Gradually, Dylan is welcomed into the fold by Sky (Eve Lindley), a stunning trans rodeo rider, who’s in an open relationship with Pepe. The attraction between Dylan and Sky is palpable, but outside of that, the job itself allows the young man to gain more confidence in himself, both at home and in this new world around him.
National Anthem moves at a laid back pace, but it’s not a slow burn. Alongside co-writers Kevin Best and David Largman Murray, Gilford weaves a gently uplifting and often bittersweet story about the power of finding one’s people and the catharsis of finally fitting in with the crowd some people never find in their lifetimes. At first, Dylan insists that the world of the queer rodeo isn’t his “scene,” but it’s clear to both the viewer and all the characters that this guy has no idea what his “scene” truly is. Dylan has floated between low paying, highly demanding jobs for so long now that he has stopped finding enjoyment of life. Not only has his queerness been repressed, but just as distressingly his zest for life. Even when problems arise within these characters lives – be they personal, romantic, or professional – Dylan keeps showing progress in his own growth, simply because he has never experienced these kinds of emotions before.
National Anthem vividly captures a subculture many viewers don’t know exists, but it’s even more potent as a story of watching someone come into their own. The atmosphere at the ranch is both accepting in its calmness and relentlessly hard working, meaning Gilford always depicts the setting as being fulfilling in spite of its imperfections and bouts of interpersonal drama. Through exemplary imagery that showcases Gilford’s considerable chops as a photographer, the filmmaker illustrates the allure, pageantry, and even the physical danger of these people. It always feels like a world of possibility and promise, even in some of Gilford’s darkest moments, mostly because the director is more content with staying in the grounded realism of individual moments rather than placing these lovingly drawn characters into contrived situations.
Plummer brings the perfect blend of world worn weariness and wide eyed delight as Dylan, providing a perfect audience surrogate and a nice point of entry for the equally uninitiated viewer. Lindley’s screen presence burns like a supernova here, portraying Sky as alluring, motherly, and just a little bit dangerous throughout. But most importantly, Lindley showcases the conflicted character’s empathy quite beautifully. There is a sexiness to the relationship between Dylan and Sky that the actors portray perfectly, but on a deeper level their connection provides National Anthem with a lot of the film’s warmth and life. Also noteworthy is Mason Alexander Park as Carrie, a wise, sage, easygoing drag performer who one day showed up at the ranch and never ended up leaving, who provides a kind, strong ear for Dylan to speak openly with about their troubles.
There’s a fear around the midpoint of National Anthem that Gilford doesn’t have enough story to sustain a feature length project. There’s actually a point around that time where it feels like Gilford and company are wrapping things up a bit early. The story does go on from there and takes some interesting new directions, but even if things had petered out entirely, National Anthem would’ve remained a worthwhile experience because of the sheer love this film has for its world and characters. Every moment and character trait is handled with resounding care and respect, allowing the viewer to fully process the emotional gamut of Gilford’s material. It’s a truly special film, and one that deserves to be sought out.
National Anthem is now playing in select Canadian theatres, including at TIFF Lightbox in Toronto. It will be available on VOD starting August 16, 2024.
