‘National Anthem’: Raindance Review

Dir: Luke Gilford. US. 2022. 99mins

On screen, the American West is often portrayed as a land of rugged individualism populated by solitary souls looking to forge their own destiny. In the affecting romantic drama National Anthem, first-time feature filmmaker Luke Gilford upends some of those tropes while honouring their core spirit, focusing on a directionless young man finding a sense of community in a collection of queer rodeo performers. Drawing inspiration from his 2020 monograph of the same name, which photographed members of the International Gay Rodeo Association, Gilford vividly contrasts the sprawling, barren New Mexico landscape with a hopeful LGBTQ+-centric story of outsiders seeking sanctuary. 

A striking directness in its presentation of the queer rodeo community

Leads Charlie Plummer and Eve Lindley generate considerable chemistry in this nicely observed love story, which debuted at SXSW last year before unspooling at Toronto and now screens at Raindance before receiving a US release on July 12. Although National Anthem has no major stars, its gentle, likeable vibe should help it reach a modest arthouse audience, with more viewers probably finding the film on streaming. 

Plummer plays Dylan, a 21-year-old man who must care for his much younger brother Cassidy (Joey DeLeon) as their drunken, detached mother Fiona (Robin Lively) has more time for the random men she brings home than her children. Needing work, Dylan takes an offer to do manual labour on a ranch, House Of Splendor, unaware that it caters to local LGBTQ+ rodeo performers. The shy Dylan is initially shocked, but he quickly befriends the performers — catching the eye of flirty trans woman Skye (Lindley), who is in a longtime open relationship with rancher Pepe (Rene Rosado). 

Gilford, who co-wrote the screenplay, encourages viewers to see the conventions of the Western in a new light — one less aggressively masculine and heteronormative. But there is nothing strident about National Anthem’s genre subversion. Instead, the film exudes a breezy, welcoming tone, watching as Dylan embraces these performers and begins to explore his sexual identity. Initially, he resists Skye’s advances, aware that she and Pepe are a couple, but Lindley is such a vivacious, witty presence that it’s understandable why Dylan could not help but fall for her.

Cinematographer Katelin Arizmendi capitalises on the wide-open spaces, which can both dwarf the love story and make it seem more epic. But National Anthem is equally adept at capturing the intimate moments that define the beginning of a new relationship – the camera close on Plummer and Lindley in the back of a pickup truck zooming down the road, the rest of the world melting away. The screenplay allows the two actors enough time to build a rapport and for Skye to knock down Dylan’s defences. Plummer’s precise but understated performance charts Dylan’s inner journey as he discovers true love but also, and more importantly, discovers his true nature. 

Perhaps predictably with a small-scale story, this slight picture stumbles once plot complications are introduced. As one might imagine, Dylan’s bigoted mother will enter the narrative at a convenient moment in order to create problems, but other obstacles are integrated in a far more nuanced and intriguing manner. Dylan and Skye clearly care deeply about each other — which is especially apparent during some brief but sensual sex scenes — but National Anthem recognises the difficulties that may keep them apart. The resolution of that romantic drama is handled with sensitivity, landing on a resolution that is unexpected but completely organic to the characters we’ve come to know.

Beyond its touching love story, National Anthem shares with Gilford’s monograph a striking directness in its presentation of the queer rodeo community. The film feels delicately radical, as the supporting characters — including Mason Alexander Park’s bighearted Carrie, who becomes one of Dylan’s closest friends — work the land, ride horses and brave bucking bulls. This is not the Old West but, rather, a new, more inclusive community that is to be celebrated.