‘On Swift Horses’ Review: Daniel Minahan’s Unsexy Adaptation Rides On Svelte Torsos and Not Much Else | TIFF

While revisionist westerns aren’t exactly popular, they do important work in dispelling the myth of the Great American West. On Swift Horses, Daniel Minahan’s adaptation of Shannon Pufahl’s novel, may not appear to be a Western based on its surface plot, but it takes a lot of the genre’s staple elements – a mysterious lone ranger, a robbery gone awry, a new community just being built, and its seedy underbelly – and looks at them through the lens of the queer America of the 1950-60s. It’s a vital corrective to numerous narratives America has told about itself, but the more traditional genre elements end up holding it back much like they held back queer lives during this time period.

The film puts its best foot forward with its opening credits, a collage of photo albums from the period in which the story takes place that instantly establishes the film’s strongest elements: Its melancholic tone and strong sense of time and place. It is 1950s Kansas, and Lee Walker (Will Poulter) has asked his longtime girlfriend Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones) to marry him. Again. She only says yes after he asks her yet again, this time in front of his brother Julius (Jacob Elordi), who has come to join them in Muriel’s childhood home after getting discharged from the Army. Julius and Muriel have an instant connection that neither of them can quite explain, and they begin writing letters to each other after she moves to San Diego with Lee. Muriel tells Julius about her secret bets on horses based on tips she gets at the diner where she works, while Julius tells Muriel about his life in Las Vegas, where he works at a casino spying on players to make sure they’re not cheating. What Julilus doesn’t tell Muriel is that he’s in a relationship with his co-worker Henry (Diego Calva), and what Muriel doesn’t tell Julius is that she’s been flirting with her neighbor Sandra (Sasha Calle) and paying visits to a local queer bar. Will either of them be able to find the happiness they long for?

After the opening credits, the film leads with its other big selling point: Steamy sex between some of the hottest up-and-coming talent in Hollywood. The sex isn’t all that sexy, though, filmed in perfunctory shots with artfully placed sheets and beams of light. There’s no sense of danger to any of it despite the fact that homosexuality was not accepted at this time. The film attempts to make a connection between Julius and Muriel’s gambling and their sexual desires, but everything that happens at the casino and the race track has more of a pulse than anything that happens in the bedroom. Muriel’s excitement when she makes more money than she’s ever seen before and the tension when Julius and Henry try a two-man blackjack cheat are electric. The only sexual spark that comes close is when Muriel visits a local gay bar for the first time and the police start banging on the door just as she’s about to kiss a blonde bombshell she met at the track. The exploration of the queer underground of the time makes the film unique, a vital vision of a history many don’t know, and the desire and fear felt by the patrons palpably permeate the scene, making it stand out.

Despite the film’s lack of sexual spark, the combined charisma of the performers can sometimes make the film feel more involving than it is. Poulter makes the most of a thankless role, stalwart and stable but lacking personality. Calle‘s role is almost too small to make an impression, but she’s so full of personality that you want to see more of her, just like Muriel does. Edgar-Jones gives the most layered performance of the lot, constantly modulating Muriel’s inner desires and outer facade to fascinating effect. She also brings out the best in her scene partners, making Calle softer and Elordi more interesting. Elordi sure looks the part of the mysterious loner bad boy with a moral code, but his energy is so laid back that he threatens to completely sap the film of what little energy it has whenever he enters a scene. He made for a wildly charismatic and seductive Elvis in Sofia Coppola’s Priscilla just last year, so it’s a bit of a mystery why he’s not able to translate that to this film. His scenes with Calva involve the most bare skin of any in the film, but they also involve the most amount of plot, which tends to grind the film to a halt because the interpersonal drama is so much more interesting than the half-baked con artist plotline the two men are given. While each of them could burn a hole in the screen with their charismatic glowering, they fizzle out together, lacking the far more palpable connection Elordi makes with Edgar-Jones.

The connection between Muriel and Julius, the unspoken bond they share as secretly queer people in a society that wants to deny their existence is by far the film’s most intriguing element. At first, the two feel drawn to each other because they see something familiar, though they can’t name it. As they get to know each other better, they discover that they’re far more different than they are the same. Having always lived in relative security, Muriel enjoys the excitement of risk, while Julius is more risk-averse, having already suffered the repercussions from risks that didn’t pay off. At the gay bar, one of the patrons tells Muriel that everyone there is “a hair’s breadth away from losing everything all the time.” As a married woman who knows she isn’t meant to be with her husband forever, Muriel has a safety net that allows her to accept the risk of this life. Julius, on the other hand, has no such safety net for his life, and seeks any kind of stability to protect himself. When the film focuses on their connection and parallel decisions, even if only thematically, it’s compelling. But the more time the film spends away from this central relationship, the more On Swift Horses stumbles. The plot intrigue surrounding Julius in Las Vegas may provide some nominal excitement, but that material is the most generic aspect of the story. Had Minahan and screenwriter Bryce Kass kept their focus on what made Pufahl’s novel so special, their film could have been special, too. Instead, it loses steam in the last leg.

Grade: C+

This review is from the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival where On Swift Horses had its world premiere. There is no U.S. distribution at this time.