The Rider (2017)
Dir: Chloe Zhao
There is a long tradition in film of employing non-professional actors for leading roles -- in foreign film, that is. Indeed, it is one of the hallmarks of Italian Neorealism: Bicycle Thieves, Umberto D., The Bandits of Orgosolo (to name but a few), are all enriched by the performances of 'real people' (not actors) in the lead roles. It usually backfires when a non-pro is cast against an actor with the star power of, say, Ingrid Bergman (think of the poor fisherman who played her husband in Stromboli.)
But the Italian directors to this day can pull it off: one recent example: the Taviani brothers filmed their adaptation of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar in a maximum-security prison, and cast the inmates in all the roles! Caesar Must Die (2012). Brilliant!
This practice hasn't caught-on in the U.S., aside from the occasional child actor. One notable exception that brought an unmatched authenticity to the story is the casting of Dwight Henry and Quvenzhane Wallis in Benh Zeitlin's Beasts of the Southern Wild (also from 2012). All of this serves as a long-winded intro into the latest, and most-daring example from indie director Chloe Zhao: The Rider. It tells the barely-fictionalized story of rodeo rider Brady Blackburn, returning home to a South Dakota reservation after sustaining a skull-fracturing fall, a head full of staples holding him together. There, he reunites his father and developmentally-challenged sister: all three leads are played by their real-life counterparts Brady, Tim & Lilly Jandreau. The rest of the movie is spent showing Brady coming to terms with never being able to ride competitively again, which defines him and his rodeo cowboy friends on the reservation (also played by non-pros).
I have seen the movie described as 'docu-fiction'--the easy route would have been to film a straight documentary about these riders on the unglamourous regional circuit who ride because it is in their blood, yet face life-altering injuries pursuing their sport. Instead, Zhao went for something bigger, and it pays off in a big way. She is able to depict the everyday struggles, determination, and character of these reticent, plain-spoken people that a voice-over, talking-head doc could never reveal.
Two recurrent interactions the self-possessed Brady has during the course of this reflective film are at the heart of this movie: one takes place in a hospital, where he visits a fellow rodeo cowboy whose injuries left him unable to speak or walk. The second shows him pursuing his passion in a slightly less dangerous way: taming wild horses. Kudos to Zhao for letting Brady (who is in every scene) command the movie without any actorly affectation. These near-wordless scenes cannot be scripted: they are as real as the people who inhabit this superb film.
