East of Wall is a Sundance award-winning debut by director Kate Beecroft. A stunning homage to the New West, East of Wall follows a horse ranch owned by Tabatha “Tabby” Zimiga (Tabatha Zimiga), a woman who rescues and rehomes more than just horses. Tabatha plays herself in the film, displaying a tremendous depth of emotion that experienced actors would struggle to match. In fact, most of the characters in East of Wall play themselves. While filming, Beecroft spent years living on the ranch in-person, and the authenticity comes through strikingly raw and intimate. The West cannot be experienced any other way.
On watch, the first thing you notice is a quiet grit to every scene. A hot dry South Dakota air. Thundering music and 40-degree metal. The track production is stellar, with tons of hard-edged country and hip-hop beats that blend seamlessly with the hum of the auction house and the thunder of a horse stampede.
With her side-shave, black eyeliner, and aviators on, Tabby would look right at home riding in Furiosa. Instead she’s riding— or rather not riding— horses in the dusty American south. She hasn’t mounted a horse since the death of her partner John. In every inch of worn denim and tattooage she carries the New West with her. It’s a legacy, and legacy is a burden. The film introduces us to her ragtag family; a raucous bunch of teenagers who help her break the horses. In their free time, they’re wilder than stallions. Laughter and squealing echo off the walls as Tabby sits considering a court order.
Money is hard to come by on the plains. With her horse business struggling and too many mouths to feed, salvation arrives in the form of Roy Waters (Scoot McNairy), a man with a lot of money to throw and a vested interest in Tabatha’s daughter, Porshia (Porshia Zimiga). He offers to buy the ranch. That means he’ll own the land that’s sustained Tabby and her family for years.
The land John is buried on.
As always, Tabatha is forced to make a hard choice. The kind of financial stability Roy promises will ensure her family’s fortune, if not their future. On the other hand, it’s the only home they know. And none of these children wind up in the Badlands seeking fortune. As her new partner Clay (Clay Pateneaud) puts it, “They ain’t here for the money. They’re here for you.”
Tabatha fears that won’t be true forever. It’s on her to be the hardass, her with her lined eyes and glare. The squat ranch house couldn’t possibly fit everything it contains. Horses and cigarette smoke and a dozen lost kids and a dead man. The only family they have is each other. A bunch of kids raising kids.
There’s a terrific easy joy to the girls, the kind of smile you flash with a thunderstorm hanging over you. Some of them are orphans. Some are running from abusive fathers or alcoholic mothers. Tabatha’s star jockey and biological daughter Porshia rides as though she can outrun the suicide of her father.
The film doesn’t shy away from frank discussion of difficult topics. The West isn’t easy. It takes, both from the ones who die and the ones they leave behind. But the resilience of those who continue to live glow brighter than ever, as though in defiance of the unforgiving desert. Twined in among the sadness is a vast, alien beauty. Director of photography Austin Shelton gifts us soaring views of the South Dakota Badlands. The horses run, from dawn to dusk, manes flying, ten hands gleaming with power and life. And finally, there’s plenty of real cowboy action: tasselled chaps and rodeos, wrestling in the mud.
