First Cow movie review: Kelly Reichardt weaves together a delicate, atmospheric comedy on brotherhood

Language: English

“The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.” Kelly Reichardt’s terrific indie-drama First Cow opens with a quote from William Blake’s Proverbs of Hell. Evidently, it is a tale of friendship and home.

Adapted from the novel The Half-Life by Reichardt’s frequent collaborator Jon Raymond, the story is about two outcasts who become unlikely companions while navigating a challenging environment, embracing it, and crafting a home out of sticks and stones.

The story begins with a prologue, where a woman (Alia Shawkat) and her canine companion uncover a pair of skeletons lying side by side. The scene seamlessly transitions two centuries back, in 1820 Oregon, where a wide-eyed, mild-mannered Otis Figowitz (John Magaro) is seen scavenging for mushrooms. Nicknamed Cookie for his profession and presumably affable nature, the cook serves a group of fur trappers. The underdog appearing in others’ stories’ to fluff them up, Cookie’s surroundings are yet to harden his unsullied soul. He stumbles upon a naked King Lu (Orion Lee), a Chinese immigrant being chased by Russian thugs for killing one of their men.

In a terrain dotted with burly fur trappers, Cookie is an unconditionally kind man who offers food, clothes, and shelter to King Lu. They both belong to the fringes, uprooted from their natural habitat and forced to find a living in a daunting land that offers none of the comforts of one’s home. They bond over a shared sense of homelessness, and their relentless effort at making the most of trying circumstances. They are naively aspirational, but have the smarts to not only survive, but perhaps even thrive in the brutal wilderness. But to fulfill their dream, they need capital. If not, “then either a miracle… or a crime.”

Thus begins the origin story of modern-day start-up culture.

Indian audiences who have grown worshipping the timeless dosti of Jai and Veeru in Sholay are squarely aware that such friendships are immortalised in death. It is only a matter of time until their dreams of a prosperous life are rudely snapped, like the delicate bark of a tree where King Lu perches himself right before their “one last heist.” But it is to the credit of Reichardt that this bleak imminence does not weigh down the hearty and humorous tone of the film.

First Cow is a complex, cross-genre film with a deceptively simple exposition. It effortlessly glides between genres — a wholesome buddy comedy, an insightful drama on the birth of capitalism in modern America, the myth of the American Dream, and a suspenseful heist flick. It unspools at a languid, deliberately staid pace, as scenes play out in almost real-time. The lush, all-encompassing forest with shards of light piercing through engulfs you in its cushiony excesses.

But here, the forest is not fresh out of a fairytale. It is majestic and intimidating. The first time Cookie meets King Lu, he asks Lu to wait until he has returned with refreshments. Lu crouches in the dark, his jitteriness abundantly evident. It is nighttime, and the long scene gets increasingly discomfiting, mirroring the audience’s anticipation. Cookie’s return sees almost an immediate shift in its tone. This is now the official meet-cute.

Another long sequence appears at a pivotal juncture in the movie, when the eponymous cow makes her grand entrance upon a small raft down a river in 1820s Oregon. She is the first cow in the region, imported by Chief Factor (Toby Jones), a wealthy European landowner. The bovine is the symbol of a burgeoning capitalistic society, and the Chief Factor, its only owner. The cow is the means of production; and for Lu, is the golden opportunity to “milk the cash cow” for Cookie’s modest yet delicious oily cakes. Needless to say, they “sell like hot cakes.”

The entry of the cow is echoed in the prologue, where a red, majestic cargo ship crosses the water body in present-day Oregon. The ship occupies almost the entire frame, slicing through the surrounding forests, wildlife, and rivers. Its intrusion into the pristine landscape through the same river is a call-back to the nascent “thread” for rudimentary commerce.

Reichardt weaves a rich tapestry in sights and sounds. Be it overlapping conversations, pauses, and silences, butch men breaking into fights over nothing at local pubs, or a resentful traveller routinely refused the pleasures of biting into Cookie’s delicious cakes, nothing escapes the director’s observant gaze. It is the surround sound that Reichardt chooses to highlight. Cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt’s camera is consistently stationary, like a patient birdwatcher hoping to catch a glimpse of the magic in the mundane, the beauty in the imperceptible.

First Cow is not just a masterpiece on the subtlety of direction. The razor-sharp editing (by Reichardt herself) connects seemingly far-flung spaces and time periods with fine precision. Present-day Oregon and its 19th-century counterpart, with social interactions and burgeoning businesses, cohabit harmoniously.

The understated quality of Reichardt’s vision is an extension of the director’s conviction to not force feed her audience. *Minor spoilers follow* She chooses to obscure the climax of the movie. It is a bold move, resorted by the likes of William Shakespeare (Macbeth) and Rabindranath Tagore (Kabuliwallah). A concrete, satisfactory resolution is the decadently sweet dessert to finish off a sprawling five-course film. But Reichardt shuts off her camera just as the two men curl up side by side inside a ditch, indicating her protagonists’ destiny is pre-designed. Now, how it befalls then is immaterial. *Spoiler ends*

First Cow is at once a parable on the human cost of humble ambition in a skewed system, and a celebration of commitment, survival spirit, and vision in a world where the odds are always stacked against them. It is not a moral science lesson on inequality and exploitation. Rather, it allows the audience to sink their teeth into it, and bite at whichever chunk they enjoy best.

First Cow is streaming on MUBI. 

Rating: ****1/2