TORONTO – Queer characters hiding their true selves in the 1950s and early 1960s America is becoming something of its own subgenre. There is already Todd Haynes’ acclaimed melodrama “Carol,” Tom Ford’s “A Single Man,” Bill Condon’s “Gods and Monsters,” and a whole storyline in Stephen Daldry’s “The Hours.” All four of those films also have something in common, they are revered contemporary classics. It gives us no pleasure to report that Daniel Minahan’s “On Swift Horses,” an adaptation of Shannon Pufahl’s 2019 novel, won’t join those particular films in critical or audience acclaim.
A world premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival, “On Swift Horses” begins in Kansas, in the early 1950s. Julius (Jacob Elordi) has arrived at the farmhouse of Murial (Daisy Edgar-Jones), after getting discharged from the Korean War, just in time to celebrate Christmas. Murial has been dating Julius’ brother, Lee (Will Poulter), for some time, and over the holiday she finally agrees to marry him. Unsure of what the future holds, the trio discuss a supposedly shared dream of moving to sunny California. Lee wants to live with his wife and brother, to have the family he never had as a kid. Murial and Julius may have other ideas.
Fast forward six months later and now-married Murial and Lee are struggling to make ends meet in San Diego. Murial is working as a waitress in a diner while Lee has a job in a factory. Lee is obsessed with buying a starter home in a brand-new development and pressures Murial to sell her deceased mother’s home back in Kansas to help with the cost. She is understandably wary. Overhearing some horse racing experts drop some intel on a likely winner at the cafe, she takes a chance on $20 at the local race track. It pays off. After more eavesdropping and solid bets, she has a secret stash of money she’s hiding from Will.
Julius, flat broke after being robbed in Stockton, uses bus money from Murial meant to get him to San Diego to high tail it to Las Vegas. After realizing his card tricks will be caught on the casino floors, he approaches the high-end security to see if they can use his skills to catch fraudulent players. He soon finds himself with a secret bird’s eye view of the gamblers, pointing out the scammers to security with a single phone call. That’s where he meets Henry (Diego Calva), who clocks him as a fellow “pansy” quicker than a dealer’s hand at a poker table.
As Julius falls for the charismatic Henry, Murial finds herself drawn to Sandra (Sasha Calle), a decidedly single woman right around the corner in their quickly growing neighborhood. Both Julius and Sandra are keeping their passions secret. And not just because of the political climate. Julius fears if Casino security discovers his relationship with Henry they will strike first and investigate later, while Murial is torn over her commitment to a husband who plays coy to her growing indiscretions.
This is an era in American history where if you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and perhaps most importantly, not rich or famous enough for your sexual inclinations to be ignored, things could end quite badly. For all of “Horses” cinematic issues (and there are many), Minahan and screenwriter Bryce Kass do an admirable job of depicting the difficulty in finding your queer tribe in an era without the internet, let alone social media. Receiving a matchbook from a secret gay establishment could be as emotionally powerful as a Valentine’s Day card. At one San Diego gay hotel and bar Julius and Murial visit, there is a message board for lost lovers. It is a genuinely poignant moment in a movie that desperately needs more of them. Much more.
Despite a long list of impressive prestige television credits, Minahan appears over his head in coalescing the narrative elements of Pufahl‘s source material into a coherent piece of cinema. Numerous scenes are shockingly inert or staged with the sophistication of a first-time film. Some of that could be excused if he could pull anything consistently captivating from his two leads.
Edgar-Jones has flashes, but her performance is mostly flat, almost too restrained. Her portrayal of Murial is too naive to the events surrounding her. There is so little beyond the surface that it often makes it hard to understand the character’s motivations.
Since breaking out on “Euphoria,” Elordi’s performances have been a bit all over the place (his work on the HBO series has been shaky at best). He shined in “Saltburn” and “Priscilla” but is either terribly directed or shockingly miscast here. The aforementioned films have filmmakers with much stronger visions, which would make one lean toward the former in this case. Strangely, Elordi has great chemistry with Calva in the movie’s slightly tepid sex scenes. But when the characters get out of bed, Julius, who is supposedly a sly, cool, charmer, becomes as compelling as the dry Nevada desert. That’s one of “Horses” major problems. Every time a major supporting character arrives on the scene, whether it’s Calle, Cala, or Kat Cunningas one of Murial’s flirtatious suitors, they blow Edgar-Jones and Elordi off the screen. Even Poulter, whose character fades to the background, brings more pop to the proceedings.
But wait, there’s more.
One of the central conceits of “Swift Horses” is this unspoken connection between Murial and Julius. It’s played as a bond that is more than platonic, more than just an understanding that the pair “are not like other people.” It’s meant to hint at something potentially romantic, two kindred souls that are continually drawn to each other. Whether it’s MInahan’s direction or Edgar-Jones and Elrodi’s performances, it ultimately feels forced, empty, and narratively head-scratching.
If there is any saving grace to “Horses,” beyond Luc Montpellier‘s often painterly cinematography and Jeriana San Juan‘s superb costume design, is its commitment to chronicling this era of hidden queer love. There is compelling drama in Pufahl‘s original work. These are stories that need to be told. Perhaps the next roll of the dice will deliver a deserving winner. (C-)
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