It’s 1973, and Salvador Allende is in the third year of his presidency of Chile as the first elected socialist leader, which, of course, western imperialists cannot abide. CIA operatives Lee Chesterfield (Sam Rockwell) and his mentor Chris Carlisle (John Malkovich) have been living in the capital of Santiago for over a year, covertly working with the Chilean military in the lead up to the devastating coup that will overthrow Allende. Carlisle is a veteran of several previous U.S.-led destabilization campaigns both at home and abroad, about which he has no remorse despite his deeply ingrained Catholicism, although a recent cancer diagnosis has thrown him into something of an existential quandary in which he worries what awaits him in the afterlife. Either because of his advanced age or as the result of his constant self-medication with morphine, he’s become too loose-lipped for CIA bureau chief MJ (Steve Buscemi)’s liking, and he tasks Lee with ensuring that Carlisle doesn’t complete his meandering memoir, which could threaten their current disruption efforts and open up old wounds back home. Lee and Carlisle make their way to Rapa Nui (aka Easter Island) for a final vacation before Carlisle’s impending death, but their trip is complicated when Carlisle develops a soft spot for Monica (Mariana di Girolamo), a Chilean college student that the pair keeps running into over and over again, putting a face on the future victims of Augusto Pinochet’s coup.
There’s something troubling about Wild Horse Nine’s humanization of some truly monstrous people, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not a fun and entertaining watch. Carlisle is a friendless man whose adversarial responses to being corrected when he refers to things by their colonized names and whose careless, period-accurate usage of slurs ensure that we understand he is not someone we would like to know. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the extent to which the film traffics in developing empathy for him, as there were points in the film where it felt as if it was laundering the likeability of the racist uncle who darkens every family gathering by having him played so avuncularly by Malkovich. It’s an excellent, nuanced performance, and Carlisle’s fixation on his potential for damnation feels like the screenplay, like that of The Phoenician Scheme, took inspiration from a certain political figure’s own (well founded) doubts about the final destination for his eternal soul. If the film were to make that point of similarity more explicit or connected, I don’t think that this would be something stomachable, but Malkovich makes Carlisle such a fascinating figure that one has no choice but to overlook that. I’ve heard early buzz that this might garner a best actor nomination for Malkovich, and if it does, it would not only be well deserved, it also won’t be the only one in the feature. Parker Posey is third-billed in all of the film’s advertising despite only appearing in two scenes, but she makes a meal out of both of them, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see her get a best supporting actress nomination this year for her appearance here. Rockwell also demonstrates a lot of pathos as well, with some excellent comedic timing mixed into a performance that effectively captures all the ways that he is caught between rocks and hard places.
Visually, Wild Horse Nine is sumptuous, with sprawling vistas that would feel right at home in a Rapa Nui tourism video. Cinematographer Ben Davis has a fairly mixed record; Hannibal Rising is one of the ugliest pictures that I’ve ever seen, his MCU work runs the gamut from Guardians of the Galaxy (good) to Eternals (awful), and it’s hard to imagine that the same man photographed The Banshees of Inisherin and Kraven the Hunter. Here, he’s operating at the top of his game as the camera captures gorgeous landscapes, handsome architectural profiles, and detailed, colorful period clothing all at once, and it’s a treat for the eyes. Longtime Coen Brothers collaborator Carter Burwell does excellent work with the music here, and the film cleverly follows up on a conversation in which Carlisle talks about the various national origins of cheeses and how every place that has been destabilized by American interference must settle for with Kraft slices by playing the most banal music on the radio (minus Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now”) in Rapa Nui. After months of seeing this trailer, the jokes present therein didn’t work on viewing (the “Who were you talking to, your mom?” line from Carlisle landed with a particular thud), but there are plenty more to enjoy before the two hours are up. The narrative has plenty of twists and turns to propel that comedy along, and this is a strong showing for all involved.
-Mark “Boomer” Redmond
