1.5 out of 5

“Wild Horses” (aka WH) is enigmatic. That there’s city talk fer a jumbleberry of arthouse monkeyshines. It’s a great big horse apple. It stinks.

Like other actors of his generation, the late Robert Duvall had a ‘thing’, and – like De Niro & Pacino – that thing was getting flustered & shouting. You can almost guarantee that having Duvall in a movie, even in a supporting role, will result in a show-stopping on-screen freak-out. Viewers are assured that WH’s is a doozy.

Otherwise, it follows the blueprint of Duvall’s first filmmaking effort “The Apostle”, in that halfway through, there’s a narrative moment that gives away the film’s intentions (here, it’s at a Will reading).

After a few days mulling it over, I’m pretty sure WH is about how any discourse in modern femininity disrupts the largely-male mythos of the cowboy. I reckon.

[cont’d]