Kelly Reichardt’s films are arguably not for everyone – they’re normally glacially-paced, quiet works of introspective analysis set to the background of more working-class, traditional America at different points, and thus may not always appeal to those attuned to more boisterous works. However, if there is a film that will convert the cynics to her brilliance, its First Cow, perhaps her finest film to date, and a fascinating follow-up to her previous film, the compelling but challenging Certain Women. Without abandoning her style, but still working with an entirely new set of artistic brushes, Reichardt once again brings her unique vision to the screen, painting a tapestry of the human condition that consolidates her position as one of contemporary cinema’s most essential voices, an artist whose deep commitment to exploring the inner recesses of existence may often lend themselves to an almost stagnantly subtle portrayal of life, but should the viewer look deeper, they’ll be rewarded with a rich, poignant tale of human nature that takes many forms. Perhaps her most ambitious film to date, at least in terms of returning to the period setting she so masterfully worked with in Meek’s Cutoff, Reichardt’s work in First Cow is nothing short of an extraordinary achievement, with the director taking on a set of bold ideas and well-taut conventions and situating them within a particular time and place, fashioning a gorgeous, enduringly powerful drama that speaks not only to our collective history and experiences over the course of past generations, but also our deepest existential quandaries, which the director weaves into the story with a graceful commitment only someone so fully in command of her craft ever could hope to achieve, resulting in one of the most astonishing films of the past year.

Watching a film by Reichardt is almost a rite of passage for contemporary film lovers – her vision is so specific in terms of form and content, but is still undeniably broad enough to captivate existing supporters of her work, while luring newcomers into her orbit, giving us the chance to sample from her unique style, with First Cow being one of the most quintessential distillations of her talents, condensed into a single work that conveys all of her strengths as a filmmaker, while still showing her relentless desire to push the confines of the cinematic form further than she has before. As is the case with any of her films, the viewer finds themselves growing increasingly lost within Reichardt’s world, becoming yet another member of a rugged, motley posse of explorers, guided by a weathered expert into the ways of our world, venturing deep into the heart of our existence while never feeling anything less than totally rivetted, enriched by this version of life she presents us with. More than anything else, Reichardt is a filmmaker who infuses a viscerality into her work, which has never been more clear as it is in First Cow, with carnal pulchritude bleeding into absolutely every frame of this gorgeous work, a stark and unapologetically honest slice of true Americana, facilitated by a filmmaker whose artistic intentions have always tended to establishing a new form of pastoral realism that remains incredibly simple, while still managing to make an indelible impression on its thematic underpinnings alone. Its an unforgettable experience that carries some immense thematic depth, making powerful statements without being overwrought or heavy-handed in any conceivable way, which is truly one of the most defining qualities of a director whose vision has always been aligned to an unfettered, authentic understanding of life and its quaint, omnipotent idiosyncracies.

What normally tends to be the deciding factor in one’s enjoyment of Reichardt’s films is the extent to which we can below the veneer of simplicity and find the hidden meanings that the director has concealed, carefully curating a wealth of ideas into something quite unfurnished and unassuming. In the case of First Cow, the most fundamental theme is that of early capitalism – she sets the film on the American Frontier during the height of the Gold Rush, and where people from all walks of life descended onto any region that may harbour some kind of prosperity. Through this unique approach to portraying history, Reichardt is able to use this as a means to navigate more recognizable thematic content, particularly in how the titular cow is used as a symbol of America, where the two impoverished protagonists secretly take her resources as a way of survival, while her wealthy owner is left with very little, and is coerced into unintentionally paying for the product of his own property. Under a less-skilled director, the premise of First Cow would seem like a cheap moral fable, existing only to convey some clever, insightful anecdote about greed and tenacity, and how what is taken for granted for one may be a fruitful opportunity for another. It carries meaning, but never appears to be heavy-handed in any way – instead, as part of her unique approach to storytelling, Reichardt ensures that the film is borne primarily from reality – her brand of authenticity would simply not be the same without this intrinsic quality, which is perhaps the reason her films carry this reputation as being extremely simple affairs that are stripped bare of any sensationalism, with only the genuine roots of reality pervading through these subdued, but achingly beautiful, glimpses into the machinations of everyday life and the trials and tribulations of the ordinary folk that live it.

Reichardt uncovers several unimpeachable truths about America through the process of making First Cow, which would otherwise be reduced to nothing more than a quaint period drama, had she not been so deeply committed to venturing further into this story than expectations would lead you to believe were possible. She provides fascinating insights into 19th-century society, weaving numerous different cultures and socio-economic strata into the narrative, portraying a rich and diverse tapestry of the time that is as historically-sound as it is strikingly beautiful. An element of Reichardt’s films that often seems to be less frequently discussed is how gorgeously-constructed they are, and with First Cow, she reaches a new peak, not only narratively, but also in how she elevates her style without losing her distinctive quality of effortless simplicity. Photographed by regular collaborator Christopher Blauvelt, who has been responsible for some of the past decade’s most stunning cinematography, and carefully-curated by a crew of artists who pay particular attention to infusing each frame with the meticulous detail required to make the film an entirely convincing, engrossing experience, First Cow is simply extraordinary, a simple but delicate portrayal of the past that never plays on stereotype, both in how it portrays the period and its people, instead focusing on evoking reality through replicating it as honestly as possible. The story this film puts together is sufficient reason to proclaim it a modern masterpiece, but the sheer scope of its execution only bolsters its brilliance and ratifies it as something that is going to become a classic, since it functions as a deft collision of style and substance that is simultaneously gorgeous as it is endearingly genuine.

However, putting everything else about this film aside, First Cow is built out of an honest desire to explore one of the most simple, but incredibly beautiful, themes known to us – friendship. The characters of Cookie and King Lu exist not only to be protagonists of the fable at the core of the film but to be representations of ordinary folk, drawn to each other out of desperation, bound together by their shared humanity. We can marvel as the gorgeous scope of the film, or how Reichardt uses the medium to communicate certain relevant ideas, but absolutely nothing about First Cow is more resonant than its characterization. The director has always had a knack for deriving extraordinary performances from all of her actors, and this film is certainly not an exception – whether playing the lead, a scene-stealing supporting role or having a minor cameo, the cast of First Cow is simply exquisite. John Magaro and Orion Lee command the film with an impressive control of their craft, guiding the audience through this story in a way that feels thoroughly natural, providing performances that seem thoroughly authentic, establishing the truth of these characters with an immense sincerity that supersedes simply being confined to what’s written on the page, but rather developing them in a way that feels natural and deeply insightful. They sell the friendship between Cookie and King Lu with precision and honesty, never resorting to anything less than the absolute truth, which only makes the final scenes all the more heartbreaking, since their portrayals of these two men, desperately seeking any way to survive, was the result of both dedication to interpreting these roles, and an immense chemistry that carries the film beyond anything that could be achieved purely narratively. The characterization is intrinsic to First Cow, and Reichardt once again extracts truly exceptional performances from a cast that appear to be just as immersed into the process of telling such an earnest story as the director was.

In no uncertain terms, First Cow is an incredible experience from the first frame to the last, flourishing into one of the year’s finest achievements. It is a gloriously simple but deeply poignant meditation on survival and friendship, a fascinating glimpse into the lives of regular people at a particular point in history. The film doesn’t purport to be anything other than what it presents at the outset – even in choosing this title for the film (rather than taking on the name of the source material, The Half Life), we can discern more or less the direction in which the film is heading. Reichardt is such a gifted filmmaker, she can transform a relatively unassuming premise into nothing short of a towering achievement, a complex and poetic portrait of existence, brimming with vivacity and earnest charm that keeps the viewer engaged throughout, never losing our attention and embracing the banality of life with a start authenticity that never abates, leaving us with a poignant and unforgettable historical text that far exceeds the limitations of the archetypal period drama by being entirely insistent on prioritizing the underlying themes as opposed to the broader narrative strokes or stylistic ambitions, resulting in a piece that means just as much as it’s supposed to, carrying both accuracy towards the period it depicts and the emotional gravitas to convincingly put it across without becoming disingenuous. In short, First Cow is an extraordinary film, a fascinating piece that ruminates on existence and takes us on a singularly unforgettable journey into the core of the human condition, showing us a different side of life that is just as elegant and lyrical as we’d expect from such a bold but beautiful premise and the filmmaker shepherding it towards existence.