This article brought to you by Lake Gregory Recreation and Top Producers Realty
By Nathan Hurlbut
Roman Coleman (Matthias Schoenaerts) has been incarcerated for twelve years, much of it in solitary confinement. He has anger issues that are responsible for his imprisonment, and he readily admits that he isn’t good with people. So, when an opportunity to participate in a convict rehabilitation program that involves breaking wild mustangs into trainable horses presents itself, it seems to be Roman’s best hope for redemption.
This is a familiar story; a man plagued by personal issues and guilty of an act of violence who must look deep inside himself to arrive at a better place. And it is true that the film holds few narrative surprises as we watch Roman embark on his journey towards salvation.
However, first-time filmmaker Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre brings a fresh perspective to the tale, and opts for simple storytelling to focus almost exclusively on the story’s emotional elements.
Perhaps most rewarding aspect of the movie is that the story is based on true-life prison rehabilitation programs that are employed in many Midwestern states. The greatest accomplishment of the movie may be how compelling an argument it makes in support of such a worthwhile cause.
Matthias Schoenaerts’ central performance is crucial to that experience. He delivers a multifaceted portrayal of a man in need of saving himself with a visceral, emotional immediacy. It’s admittedly rewarding to watch his character slowly shift from hardened tough guy criminal, to compassionate horse trainer, to guilt-ridden father.
Interestingly, while a confessional scene with his daughter explaining the circumstances leading to his arrest is expectedly emotional, it’s actually the smaller moments between man and horse here that prove to be the most affecting.
This is true whether it’s Roman and his horse Marquis gazing at each other from a defeated position on the ground following a physical altercation, or the close up of a newly-compassionate human eye meeting a horse’s on its own terms. It’s here that director Clermont-Tonnerre effectively uses visual means to clearly establish the intense emotional bond that Roman and Marquis develop, a bond that is crucial to the story itself.
In fact, the director uses the reticence of the prisoners to her advantage here as well, allowing the images to speak more than the dialogue. A simple physical gesture or even a single glance can convey volumes here, and she captures these moments with an unerring eye that searches for the simple immediacy of these events.
Meanwhile, the sweeping shots of Midwestern vistas are quite beautiful, lending a mythic element to the landscape in which the film takes place. The contrast between the sun-filled, wide-open spaces of the desert terrain and the dark, claustrophobic prison cells makes an effective case for the sense of freedom the cowboy life embodies, becoming symbolic of Roman’s personal struggles as well.
The intensity of the relationship between Roman and Marquis leaves many of the other characters to fall by the wayside. While it’s certainly a kick to see Bruce Dern in a supporting role as Myles, the hard-nosed boss of the mustang program, these supporting characters tend to serve merely as props in Roman’s story. However, this also allows the relationship between Roman and his horse Marquis to remain the film’s unblinking focal point.
Perhaps director Clermont-Tonnerre’s inexperience behind the camera even worked to her advantage here. With some jaded, journeyman’s eye behind the lens, “The Mustang” could easily have been made into a cliché-filled inspirational story that proved utterly forgettable. However, filmmaker Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre’s heartfelt passion for her subject clearly shines through here. The film’s sincerity, coupled with Matthias Schoenaerts’ sympathetic central performance, makes “The Mustang” into a genuinely moving experience.