by Robert Bouffard, Editor
When it comes to revealing things about its story, God’s Country takes its time. It’s a textbook example of a slow burn. In the snow-covered mountains and valleys of Montana, university professor Sandra Guidry (Thandiwe Newton) has just buried her mother, and is now faced with a life alone. On top of her obvious grief, two men have begun parking their red pickup truck in her driveway without her permission because she lives on good hunting property. At the same time, her department at the university is trying to finalize a list of recommendations for an open position to give to the dean. Sandra wants to include at least one person of color in this list, while her all-white colleagues are scared of only putting certain people on the list to fill a quota.
The film presenting all of this in long, drawn-out (and well-composed) takes turns what would normally be a straightforward thriller into something more unique. At least for the first half, its main goal is to build a tone, rather than a big mystery that drives the plot forward. In his feature debut, director Julian Higgins definitely succeeds at creating a cold, genre-bending film. In any given scene, it can feel like a thriller, psychological horror, or devastating drama, and for the most part, it’s all balanced well.
Of course, it’s Newton who drives everything that works. As the main character, many of these slow burn shots are just of her doing something — her ability to be dynamic in the minutiae of her performance carries the movie forward. Sandra has an air of mystery about her. Despite existing in the formal, predictable world of intradepartmental politics, she’s the only staff member with any real conviction. She fights for a diverse list of recommendations at work, and she’s forthcoming and not afraid to confront the trespassers at home. That there’s more to her than meets the eye gives the character ample depth.
And her depth is what brings the same to the story. The title of the film is doing a lot of work here: what does God’s Country mean? Well, as a woman in an academic field and geographical area dominated by man and a person of color in those same areas dominated by white people, the film laments the fact that the powers that be haven’t left any space for people like her. Sheriff’s deputies aren’t any help, the department head hand waves her concerns, and the men in the red pickup return to her driveway daily, without remorse. God’s Country is meant more in the “manifest destiny” sense. Those who have always had power are going to hold onto it as tightly as they can, because they feel like it’s their right.
The script, co-written by Higgins and Shaye Ogbonna, does a lot of work to dissect this idea. Each of the deputy, department head, and two brothers in the pickup have their own unique ways of maintaining the destructive status quo. The deputy (Jeremy Bobb) essentially washes his hands of the whole situation, neglecting to take it seriously; the department head (Kai Lennox) seems like an ally at the beginning, but swiftly reveals the trash under the surface; one brother (Jefferson White) is cocky and arrogant, and delights in making Sandra’s life more difficult, while the other (Joris Jarksy) has a rough exterior with a soft interior, but is too cowardly to let the interior guide his actions. The way each of these characters, Sandra included, says something different about who this land is for, is weaved together well, even if it doesn’t nicely wrap up until the very last shot of the film.
God’s Country is a bleak and biting commentary on America, who it belongs to, and who it casts aside. Even with a final scene that might slightly undercut some of the slowly yet intentionally build themes, it still has enough on its mind to add something meaningful and singular to this massive topic.
Score: 8/10
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