The Mustang: the bond between man and beast

SPOILERS AHEAD

When I watched The Old Guard the other day and saw Matthias Schoenaerts as Booker, I was reminded of another film I had seen him in. Last year, my Mum and I went to our favourite cinema - shout out to the Everyman in Glasgow - to see a film called The Mustang. We hadn't heard of it before; it just so happened that it was the only thing on that morning, and it had a horse it in. We love horses, in this family. Well, my Dad aside, but that's irrelevant. The point is that if a film is marketed as having a horse in it, we'll watch it. We were the only people in the cinema, and we settled down for an hour and a half of horse-related drama. Safe to say we were both sobbing at the end, so it was a blessing that we were the only people there.

The Mustang, directed by Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre, tells the story of Roman Coleman. Roman has, at the beginning of the film, been incarcerated for twelve years after an attack on his wife that left her with permanent brain damage. He is portrayed as withdrawn, with violent tendencies, and has thus far resisted any attempts at rehabilitation. The prison that Roman is in partakes in a rehabilitation programme involving wild mustangs; inmates are assigned to a mustang and are given five weeks to retrain them for auction. When Roman is assigned outdoor work, he notices a horse that is separated from the others, in a lone stable with no windows. The horse intrigues him - and so their story begins.

The film is visually stunning, and tells a story through its cinematography. There are many wide, establishing shots throughout, of both the prison and of the open plains that the mustangs run on. These are contrasted with narrow, enclosed shots of smaller spaces; particularly Roman's cell in solitary confinement (where he is seen numerous times throughout the film), and the small stable that the horse (Marquis) is in. Thus, through the cinematography alone, a parallel is created between the inmates and the mustangs; specifically between Roman and Marquis. Anyone that knows horses knows that they feed off the energy of their handler/rider; they can feel emotions through the reins, can percept it through body language and tone. This is shown continually throughout the film - Marquis responding to Roman's energy - and also goes deeper, to the point where Marquis and Roman mirror one another through their responses and subsequent surroundings.

Roman's cell in solitary confinement vs Marquis' stable (at first). Notice the parallel between the small windows; in each of these shots, they are both looking out of those windows at one another. Roman is looking out of his cell at Marquis (out of shot, obviously), Marquis is looking out of his stable at Roman.

Roman's relationship with his daughter - Martha - is particularly strained, and understandably so. We find out later in the film that she became her mother's sole carer after the attack and Roman's subsequent incarceration. She was young when it happened, and the consequences thus took a toll on her. When Martha comes to visit Roman, we see them sitting across from one another in the visiting area. In the background of the shot there is a mural on the wall, made to look like a tropical beach. In front of said mural, various inmates pose with their families; the shutter sound of the camera taking the photograph, along with smiles and laughter, provide background noise for the scene. Roman is frequently framed in the foreground of the mural, juxtaposing his disinterested, dispirited demeanour with the smiles of the other inmates, and the carefree vibe created by the mural itself.

Roman is framed in such a way in the first two meetings we see between him and Martha. It is only in their third meeting that he is framed differently, when he has changed and allows himself to emote and connect. In these early meetings, he is hiding behind a carefully cultivated persona that allows for no emotionality to leak through. The mural behind him - a falsehood - reflects the falsehood that he hides behind.

The entire existence of the mural itself is interesting. It only takes up a small portion of the wall, as seen above, and is not a permanent fixture. It is a façade in more ways than one. When seen through the lens of a camera, there is little to indicate what lies beyond those boundaries; the resulting picture is a fragment of falsely captured happiness. Martha, at one point, tells Roman: "You're a dependent of the state and its like you're on permanent vacation." Her words are particularly poignant considering the mural on the wall behind them is representing just that - a vacation. But that concept, of course, is a lie.

Meanwhile, Roman has, as mentioned earlier, started doing outside work. He starts off clearing up after the horses, but soon expresses a subliminal interest in working with them. Myles, the leader of the mustang rehabilitation programme - played by Bruce Dern - notices Roman's interest, and allows him to join. Marquis is the only horse available, and the one that Roman is drawn to, so they are put together for the purpose of the programme. Marquis is misunderstood at this point in the story - a "dangerous animal - and his innate reactions are violent and born from fear and discomfort. He and Roman mirror one another at this point in the story; they are both closed off, but have the capacity to help and heal one another.

Unfortunately, Roman's volatility gets the better of him during a training session. He is trying to get close to Marquis, but his own posture is laced with tension and anger. He has not long had a meeting with Martha in which he found out that she was filing for emancipation. Thus, his emotions are running high, and Marquis picks up on that, feeding off Roman's aggression. Things escalate, and Roman becomes physically violent towards Marquis when he won't yield, punching and shouting at him.

This is a no-no when it comes to any animal, but especially one that outweighs you by at least 800lbs and is extremely volatile and unpredictable. Marquis turns on Roman in response, bearing the reminder that there is always someone or something stronger than you, no matter how you might feel in the moment.

Roman finds himself in solitary confinement once again, as a result of his treatment of Marquis. Not only that, but Myles has removed him from the programme. However, when a huge storm is rolling in and the horses need to be secured safely until it passes, Roman is drafted in to help. All of the other horses - the tame ones that will let themselves be haltered and led - have been taken away by their respective handlers, leaving Marquis alone. At this point, it is dark, there are storm warning alarms droning across the facility, and a wind is already whipping up. Marquis is, understandably, upset. Roman is not deterred, however, and enters Marquis' pen with an objective - one that is met. Marquis allows Roman to halter him and get close to him for the first time; allows Roman to lead him inside, to the kitchen. This is a desperate moment in which Roman and Marquis finally connect for the first time, forging a beautiful bond between man and beast that is born from mutual respect and trust.

The horses are being sheltered in the kitchen until the storm passes. Yes, you read that right. The kitchen. What follows is a beautifully shot scene that plays with minimal light and shadows, relying instead on sound to tell the story; that of the wind, whinnying, nickering, voices. In moments such as this, primal senses of survival kick in, and these senses are expertly manipulated by the cinematography and use of sound within this scene. These are wild horses, being held in a space that is designed for humans. There is one horse at the back of the scene that is quite clearly terrified, and keeps rearing. However, when the storm passes, everyone is safe and unharmed; except for the kitchen, which is a mess. The fact, however, that all of the horses and handlers are safe in such an unpredictable, unfamiliar situation speaks to the strength of the bonds between them, and the depth of the trust that a horse places in its human.

Following this, Roman is allowed back into the programme. It is a valuable experience for Roman in many ways; it offers him a chance to build camaraderie with his fellow riders, helping him to realise that it is perfectly valid to ask for help and that he isn't expected to always have answers and to know everything. This is particularly poignant for Roman, who has been established as something of a 'lone wolf', with little time for anyone else's opinions or knowledge. However, the handling of a wild mustang is beyond him at times, and so the programme encourages him to ask for help and to lean on others when necessary, and that doing so does not invalidate him.

Roman becomes frustrated with Marquis; he cannot get close to him like he did on the night of the storm. However, when he stops trying so hard and settles on a bucket, dejected, with his back to Marquis, something magical happens. In that moment of silence and reflection, Marquis approaches Roman of his own volition. This shows Roman that violence, animosity and aggression are not necessary, given that this progress is made in a quiet moment of calm. The bond that grows and strengthens between them is beautiful; they have a deep mutual understanding of one another that grows into trust and respect.

Roman's relationship with Marquis continues to develop, to the point where the nonverbal understanding and communication between them is so strong that Marquis will docilely follow Roman around his pen. This is worlds away from where we saw them at the beginning of the film; each of them highly strung, volatile, aggressive, and riddled with anxieties. Throughout the film, we see Roman rediscovering his humanity through his unlikely connection with a nonhuman entity - a horse - that cannot even speak to him. Speech is not necessary with an animal such as a horse; one that is so intelligent and so elegant in its understanding of things we are not even aware of.

At the beginning of the film, it was established that Roman had just been transferred to this prison, had been in solitary for a long time, and was resistant to rehabilitative methods. Later in the film, and following his connection with Marquis, we see him change and develop within himself. He engages in rehabilitative discussion; we see one such session pertaining to the time that lapses between the thought of a crime and the crime itself. In this case, each of the inmates involved - Roman included - gives an answer in the low seconds; a split second, two seconds, half a second. This is an important thing to remember; that not all crime is premeditated. While this does not necessarily excuse the act itself, it is an integral layer to consider.

It is following this discussion that Roman talks to his daughter about the attack on his wife. In a sequence that is raw, open and honest, Matthias Schoenaerts delivers a heart-breaking performance that attests to Roman's rediscovered humanity. Not only is Roman able to talk to his daughter about the attack, he does so with emotional openness and honesty, with tears dripping down his cheeks. In this meeting he is worlds away from the man we saw at the beginning of the film, in earlier meetings with Martha. He is no longer framed by the beach mural - thus, he is no longer hiding behind a façade of emotional stagnation and refusal.

What follows Roman's harrowing admission is a scene of freedom; the mustangs and their respective riders, moving as one across the desert. This scene represents Roman's personal liberation, achieved through his partnership with Marquis. It is beautiful and extremely powerful, matched with a score that is equal parts haunting and exquisite. This programme is designed to curate the best of these horses, but it does the same for the inmates, too. It is rehabilitative on both ends, and allows for them to forge a greater connection with one another and with their own humanity.

Pictured above is Roman alongside Henry and his horse T-Bird. Henry is a member of the mustang retraining programme, and has continually offered Roman aid and guidance throughout the film. Unfortunately, both Henry and Roman are involved in a shady scheme with Roman's occasional roommate, Dan. Said scheme involves the pair smuggling ketamine from the veterinary cupboard at the stables, and delivering it to Dan. When they decide not to do so anymore, animosity arises between them and Dan, specifically directed at Henry. It is never explicitly stated, but there do appear to be racially charged undertones between the inmates.

Dan takes his rage out on Henry, stabbing him multiple times during recreation. The guards order everyone to the ground, and none of them make any move to help Henry as he chokes and bleeds out into the dirt. It is particularly difficult to watch; Henry was once so kind, animated, and full of life. To watch him die in such an undignified and brutal way is upsetting, especially considering the fact that no steps are taken to try and help him. Roman's reaction is adverse but understandable. He takes his rage out on Dan, beating him in the privacy of their cell before shouting for the guards. While we can sympathise with his pain - he has just lost one of his only friends, to a man that manipulated and threatened them both - his actions defy the principles of what he has learned about his anger thus far. His reaction is once again unpredictable, like those of the horses.

The question arises of what will be done with T-Bird at the impending auction. Tom - played by real-life horseman and wild horse advocate Thomas Smittle - offers to show T-Bird, and the inmates agree to ride in Henry's honour. He was, after all, a valued friend to them all. The day of the auction rolls around, and Roman and Marquis put on an elegant, polished show for the crowd. The progress that they have made together is undeniable, and Marquis even performs a few tricks. However, partway through the bidding process, a helicopter flies over the top of the prison, and things take a turn for the worst.

At the beginning of the film, we are shown just how wild mustangs are rounded up and trailered. Helicopters are used to frighten them into running in a certain direction, until they run straight into a pen that then narrows into a chute and funnels them into a waiting trailer. At the sound of the helicopter flying overhead, Marquis panics and has an unbridled, terrified reaction in a display of PTSD. Marquis's reaction carries with it the reminder that despite any amount of training, a horse is still a horse and is thus unpredictable. They are animals, and their reactions cannot be closely regulated. Marquis's terror makes him turn on Roman; he throws him to the ground and bites and kicks at him. Not because he is bad, or dangerous, but because he is scared and does what his brain tells him to do in order to survive. Horses are fight or flight animals, by nature, and in this case Marquis's instincts tell him to fight. Once again, the importance of sound is amplified by the fact that the low rumble of the helicopter was enough to set Marquis off.

It is obvious that this was not a premeditated incident. Marquis did not set out with the intention of hurting Roman. There was a split second between everything going well and the noise of the helicopter frightening Marquis into reacting. This harkens back to the discussion between the inmates earlier about the length of time between the thought of the crime and the crime itself.

Even though Marquis's reaction was innate and entirely not his fault, he is still blamed for it and seen as dangerous - to the point where he is going to be euthanized. This is not an uncommon practice, especially when it comes to wild mustangs. However, it is wholly unfair. With regards to rehabilitation and redemption: Roman was given what is essentially a second chance, following the attack on his wife. Why shouldn't this principle extend to Marquis, given the similarities between them and their situations? Roman senses this; senses the injustice in Marquis's fate. In a display of the potential and power of forgiveness, Roman hurries to free Marquis before the vet can arrive to put him down.

Roman leads Marquis through the broken gates (still broken, from the storm) to the edge of the facility, and frees him. The prison is surrounded by open plains, yet Marquis does not leave. Roman has to physically shoo him away, and Marquis eventually leaves begrudgingly. Following this, Roman is taken back inside the facility and placed into solitary confinement, once again. He essentially returns to what he knows, and to that which is proven to be familiar to him. And, so does Marquis. Roman looks out of his tiny window and sees Marquis on the other side of the fence. He, too, has returned to that which is familiar to him, despite the fact that in doing so, he is surrendering his freedom.

Ultimately, The Mustang is a beautiful, affecting watch. It speaks to the power of peace and forgiveness, the power of humanity and allowing yourself to feel, and the power of horsemanship. Marquis and Roman forge a bond that is powerful, and through doing so discover their ability to help and heal one another.

The Mustang is a film that is visually stunning, and is bolstered by strong acting performances throughout. It is well written, with direction from Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre that is powerful and not intrusive. It is, in my opinion, criminally underrated, and received none of the hype that it deserved. It is a revitalisation of a familiar tale, told with poise, elegance, and power. Of course, I love horses, so I was drawn to it regardless. But, I don't think you need to love horses to enjoy and appreciate the film. I'd recommend it, if you're interested. It's not a long film - only an hour and a half - and will definitely draw you in with its compelling story and characters. If you decide to watch it, let me know what you thought!