102 min | PG-13 | November 7, 2025 | Netflix
Denis Johnson’s novella gets the adaptation it deserves. Edgerton finally gets the role he deserves. Everybody wins.
This film is contemplative in a way that earns the word. It doesn’t mistake slowness for depth. Every frame is crafted with genuine regard for the landscape, the period, and the ethos of the story. The early 20th-century American West is rendered with the kind of patience that lets you feel the dust and the distance and the loneliness of a life lived at the edge of progress. The cinematography alone justifies the runtime.
Joel Edgerton finally gets a character worthy of the performance he’s always been capable of delivering. He plays Robert Grainier with a stillness that communicates volumes. The man doesn’t say much. He doesn’t need to. Edgerton finds the grief and the grace in the silence. It’s awards-worthy work in every respect. I’m happy for him. He’s been doing strong work for years in films that didn’t give him enough room. This one does.
William H. Macy nearly steals the entire film in a few short scenes. He puts a hat on a hat and drives home the deeply reverberating pathos that makes this story stick with you. Will Patton’s narration is something special. It gives the film the literary quality of the source material without feeling like someone reading a book aloud. The novella and the film share DNA close enough to be mistaken for twins. That’s a pristine adaptation.
Another strong contender from Netflix. Another film I wish I saw in a theatre instead of at home. The pattern is clear. Netflix makes great movies and then asks you to watch them on your couch. The work deserves better. But the work is undeniably excellent.