LGBTQ+ drama On Swift Horses (now on Netflix) assembles a knee-bucklingly talented young cast to channel its tones of bittersweet yearning: Daisy Edgar-Jones, Jacob Elordi, Will Poulter, and Diego Calva anchor this 1950s-set saga showcasing first-time director Daniel Minahan’s attempt to mirror the melodramatic tones of Douglas Sirk. The film, adapting the acclaimed 2019 novel by Shannon Pufahl, seems ripe for streaming audiences drawn to its principal stars – but those of us watching at home may feel a twinge of regret that we didn’t see it in theaters (where it came and went with hardly a blip, grossing barely over $1 million), considering its lush, highly cinematic visual sensibilities. But the question here may be whether its characters inspire passionate reactions to match those for its evocative recreation of mid-century America.
The Gist: “I’m Julius.” “I know.” Muriel (Edgar-Jones) and her soon-to-be brother-in-law apparently have heard a lot about each other. Julius (Elordi) hitchhiked to her home in Middle of Nowhere, Kansas for Christmas with her and his brother Lee (Poulter). Lee has big plans: He gets down on one knee and proposes to Muriel, again – she’s been putting off giving him an answer – and she finally says yes. While Lee and Julius were off fighting in the Korean War, they agreed to pool their money and start a new life together in San Diego. Just the three of them. A bit odd? Perhaps. Lee is protective of his brother, who we soon learn is a troubled free spirit, brooding gently, constantly shuffling a deck of cards and not thinking too hard about tomorrow.
Muriel is immediately drawn to this puzzle-box-of-mysteries guy. She has secrets of her own; the cigarettes she hides from Lee seem like the tip of the iceberg. What, exactly, ignites the spark between them? It’s not easy to define, and the temptation is to pigeonhole any character played by Will Poulter as a resident of Cuck City, considering his reputation for bringing some major OPC (one-pump chump) energy to all the movies he’s in. But this situation isn’t clear-cut at all. Emotions – good luck with those things, especially in movies that reflect them in a realistic manner, like this one does. Anyway, Julius gives Muriel some poker tips – note: he cheats – then vamooses, much to Lee’s dismay. Julius was discharged from the military for reasons he doesn’t share, and now Lee has to return to the war alone.
Subtitle: CALIFORNIA, all caps. Beat. Another subtitle: six months later, all lowercase. Muriel and Lee are in San Diego, in a crummy apartment. She’s a waitress at the Heyday cafe, he works in a factory. She’s been secretly writing to Julius, who’s in Los Angeles, hustling card games (yes, he’s still palming cards) and selling his body for cash. Lee wants to buy a house in a new development, and they could afford it if Muriel sold her late mother’s home back in Kansas, but she doesn’t want to. While at work she overhears restaurant patrons’ horseracing tips, and embarks on a secret life, making fat bets at the track and turning it into a thick envelope full of money she hides from Lee. Julius, meanwhile, cleans out a few schmucks at a poker table – then gets beaten and robbed. He calls for his brother and gets his sister-in-law and she tells him about playing the horses. “Careful now,” he says, “might be one of those things you can’t get enough of.” Then he hangs up and takes his game to Vegas.
So. Why, exactly, does Lee want the three of them to be a happy little threesome family? He’s protective. He knows who his brother is. His brother, who starts off winning at casino blackjack, then getting a steady gig spotting guys like him, cheating at cards. He’s assigned to climb into the hot, sweaty rafters – this is Nevada, remember – of the casino and report the shiesters so the goons can take them to the roof and rough them up. Up in those hot, sweaty rafters he meets Henry (Calva), and it’s only a matter of time until they’re in a hotel room, peeling off each other’s whitie-tighties. Meanwhile, in San Diego, Muriel surprises Lee with some cash, fibbing that she sold her mother’s house. They buy a brand new house in a new development. As hammers pound away all day on nearby lots, Muriel meets their new neighbor Sandra (Sasha Calle), who wears pants and a pixie cut, and sells – symbolism alert – eggs and olives. At Sasha’s invitation, Muriel spits an olive pit into Sasha’s hand, and thus begins… what, exactly? In her reserved, almost demure way, Muriel kinda loves everybody she meets. Her cup runneth over. She looks like she fits nicely in a box, but- well, I’m not going to finish that sentence. Insinuations and double-entendres, y’know.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Edgar-Jones has a bit of that Anne Hathaway shine, so On Swift Horses brings to mind the underrated (and significantly darker) Hathaway film Eileen, about independent women struggling through mid-century life.
Performance Worth Watching: Golden Globe-nominated for Babylon, Calva emerges as the cast member with the most charismatic screen presence.
Memorable Dialogue: Context: Henry and Julius’ first “date” is a trip to the desert to watch a nuclear bomb test(!) – followed by the following spiel by Henry: “Maybe a place where you can take another man’s money, catch cheats and watch a bomb go off on all in the same day, and get rich doing it, is exactly the kind of place where the lines get blurred.”
Sex and Skin: Plenty of it! Just not much frontal.
Our Take: Granted, a Sirk film might posit the Muriel character at the fulcrum between the two men in her life, and extract tragedy from the uncertainty of the human heart. Modern sensibilities render On Swift Horses and its ruminations on sexuality and social mores far more complex – and as dramatically immersive as this story can be, simplifying its smoldering, symbol-ridden, quasi-bifurcated narrative might’ve done it some good. Its focus is torn between Julius and Muriel’s points-of-view, which inhibits Elordi and Edgar-Jones’ ability to fully explore their characters (Elordi often seems uninspired, his characterization limited to sullen brooding and a sub-Elvis mumble). The modest depths they reach are still reasonably compelling, but we’re left with a mildly disappointing sense of who these characters truly are, what motivates them, and what they truly want out of life.
And so our attention is forced to the fringes, where we find some truly excellent supporting performances: Poulter never indulges the cliches of the straight, White middle-American guy we expect Lee to be. Calva’s clarity is impressive; he crystallizes Henry’s yearnings and past experiences in his tone and mannerisms. And Calle makes the most of her brief screen time with a performance mirroring Calva’s, making sure Sandra is more than a tool of the plot, and not just a one-dimensional catalyst for change in Muriel or broad representation of the LGBTQ segment of society.
While Minahan imbues the film with luscious visual dimension – Luc Montpellier’s cinematography is uniformly sumptuous – we’re left wondering where the heat and passion is among these characters. Muriel and Julius’ verboten trysts feel mechanical, and fall short of reflecting the suppressed yearnings of their participants. And the symbolism – olives, eggs, horses, playing cards, a golden Derringer pistol, and plenty more – feels more than a little tortured, the film seemingly overstuffed with the literary flourishes of the source material, its ending too contrived and tidy to be wholly plausible. I was torn between appreciating the film’s artful visual and thematic intentions, and frustrated by its inability to coherently coalesce into a potent drama.
Our Call: Even considering its plethora of flaws, On Swift Horses is still worth a watch, for its rich and subtle eye candy, and strong performances. STREAM IT, but keep your expectations in check.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.