Once you’ve been a working actor for nearly forty years, you tend to learn a few things about how Hollywood works, especially if you’ve been an insider into the industry. Very few exemplify the concept of hard work quite as much as Robin Wright, an actress who has seen every side of the industry, and managed to conquer each one of them in her own way. However, it took quite a while for her to finally step behind the camera on a feature film, after dabbling in directing on a few episodes of House of Cards. Her feature directorial debut is Land, a quiet and meditative character study about a woman abandoning her life after an unspeakable tragedy, and venturing into the wilderness of Wyoming, taking up occupancy in an old cabin high in the mountains, far from any other person, where she hopes to spend the rest of her days, in isolation from the outside world. Wright is a very gifted performer, but as a director, she shows a curious amount of promise, helming this film with elegance and conviction, and gradually peeling away the complexities to reveal a very tender story of finding yourself in the aftermath of a horrifying traumatic event, from which many may think there isn’t any hope of recovery. Land is a very simple film, and perhaps the best place for Wright to test the waters of feature-length direction – but in the process of taking on this project, she proves her aptitude and dedication for her craft extends behind the camera, and she quickly establishes herself as someone with a very clear gift of storytelling, constructing a hauntingly beautiful depiction of the human condition, filling it with an equal amount of social commentary and intricate, character-driven drama, which only supports the beautiful message at the heart of the film.

Land might not appear to be much at the surface – we’ve seen countless dramas about individuals venturing into the wilderness, either as a result of growing weary of their suburban or city lives, or as a response to a traumatic incident that triggers their response to flee from the epicentre of their despair. Just this past year, we saw Nomadland succeed with a very similar story to this, and there are many other similarly themed films, and they all tend to follow a familiar pattern that combines the treachery of the outside world with the fervent belief that one needs to escape to find comfort. Unfortunately, there isn’t much that can be said about Land that will lead anyone to believe that it’s a film that deviates from this pattern in any way. In fact, a more open-minded viewer might suggest that its adherence to conventions is actually its most significant merit, as it allows us to focus on the more internal challenges faced by the character, rather than being on tenterhooks about whether or not she is going to make it. Even the most surface-level glance will tell you that this isn’t the kind of film that is going to be filled with twists and turns, and instead will focus on being a solid, reliable drama that has some elements of suspense, but will ultimately find all the tensions resolved by the end, and have a sense of cathartic release from the dangers that lurk both internally and externally. Wright knows how to pull together varying narrative strands and turn them into something that is not only effective in conveying a particular message, but also is stunningly beautiful in both the story it tells, and the form it comes in (kudos must be given to the director of photography Bobby Bukowski, who wors closely with Wright to capture the rugged beauty of the Wyoming wilderness), all of which comes to describe an absolutely striking work of profoundly moving cinema.

The themes explored throughout Land can all be summarized by simply stating that this film is about one concept in particular: survival. Throughout the film, we’re introduced to two different kinds of survival, as seen through the protagonist’s journey. The first is the more traditional one, where she finds herself in a ramshackle cabin in the woods, with nothing but a few rusted tools and a barely functional fireplace, and her own barely-formed knowledge of how to brave the wilderness (mainly gleaned from the same cultural sources most of us are aware of, which she quickly learns is not nearly enough to be practical). The second is the more interesting, whereby the film focuses on her attempts to survive living with post-traumatic stress disorder, which has driven her into a depression so severe, she is barely holding onto her life, hanging on by a slender thread that could break at any moment. Wright knows how to strike the perfect balance between the two major themes, and gradually shows them coming together. As the film progresses, we see how her decision to retreat from society was less of a case of trauma-fueled delusion, and more an essential step towards healing. She finds herself in this cabin in the dead of winter, and as the snow begins to melt around her, her mind starts to come to peace with reality – the visions of her past slowly recede into the back of her mind, functioning as joyful memories of what she had, rather than painful reminders of what she lost. It’s a powerful ode to the human spirit, and something that pays tribute to the resilience that many of us encounter in times of trouble – and Wright manages to capture the tender longing for the simplest joys of life so beautifully, finding the truth inherent to such stories, and exploring them with such sensitivity.

Wright has been around a while, and we’ve seen her thrive in every medium, in a variety of roles across every conceivable genre. She’s a journeyman performer, and she’s constantly proven herself as an incredible presence on film. Land isn’t only a wonderful directorial debut, it’s also a perfect showcase for her incredible talents as an actress. This film may not be revolutionary, but somehow, Wright proves to be something of a revelation – she seems to be invigorated more than she has been in years, telling a story of a woman seeking herself in the aftermath of a tragic loss, and working through her emotions in a way that is deeply complex, but still incredibly beautiful. Wright has such grace, and she executes every moment with such honesty – she could’ve easily played this role without much effort, but her ability to plumb the emotional depths of this character’s life, and still find the truth inherent to her existence and challenges with coming to terms with her trauma, is truly impressive. She is joined by Demián Bichir as the only other substantial role in the film, playing a friendly hunter who comes across the protagonist at a very opportune moment, and comes to care for her as she recovers from a near-death experience. Over the course of their growing friendship, they soon learn how they aren’t all that dissimilar at all – they both have suffered enormous loss in their lives, and have retreated into the wilderness to take advantage of the healing properties of nature. Land gradually becomes a film about both embracing the beauty of isolation, and realizing how, even when we want to avoid all human contact, it is important to know that there are people who genuinely will help one in their efforts to survive – and the way Wright portrays these two disparate elements is absolutely beautiful, and worth every moment.

It’s unlikely that Land is going to shatter any boundaries, or become some iconic work of contemporary cinema due to its simplicity and the fact that it is traversing very common themes, and telling us a story we’ve seen many times before – there is nothing that can be found here that can’t necessarily be considered all that original, since this is unfortunately a common sub-genre that has avoided becoming overly saturated, but does indeed have a wealth of entries. However, there is something about it that is profoundly moving, a quality that comes across really beautifully, particularly in how Wright carefully explores the inner life of this character, extracting her psychological quandaries slowly, and making some very smart directorial and narrative choices (for example, we don’t know what happened to her family until the last few moments, with most of the film functioning as more of an elegy for her loss, rather than retreading the specific details of her trauma). It’s a beautiful film, one constructed out of the simplest materials, and told with such genuine honesty and respect for the subject matter, it’s difficult to watch it without being utterly moved. Wright proves that she is a very gifted director, and her work reflects a keen understanding of the intricate aspects of human behaviour, and how we handle tragedies in different ways. Quiet, understated and achingly beautiful, Land is a wonderfully honest, earnest piece of contemporary storytelling that shows us the value of looking both inward and outward, and finding the beauty that exists in both instances, and simply celebrating the smallest joys that help us move past even the most harrowing of challenges.