Filmmaker Kelly Reichardt has offered a frank evaluation of American cinema’s tendency to recycle its own myths, telling an audience at the Visions du Réel documentary festival in Nyon, Switzerland, that “the American story keeps repeating itself.” During a masterclass on Tuesday as part of a broader retrospective to the celebrated filmmaker, Reichardt explored how her films intentionally reposition perspective on conventional storytelling, particularly the Western genre. Rather than claiming to rewrite history, she characterised her approach as a deliberate repositioning of the cinematic lens—moving away from the patriarchal perspective that has long dominated the form to examine what happens when the mythology is scrutinised from a different angle. Her remarks came as the festival honoured her distinctive body of work, which consistently interrogates power dynamics and hierarchies within American society.
Reconsidering the Western Through a Different Lens
Reichardt’s revisionist approach reaches its sharpest articulation in “Meek’s Cutoff,” a film that tracks a group of pioneers stranded in the Oregon desert and functions as a explicit critique on American imperial ambition. The director explicitly linked the film’s themes to the historical context of its creation, drawing parallels between the arrogance underlying westward expansion and the military intervention in Iraq. “Meek was this guy with all this overconfidence – ‘Here we go!’ – venturing into some foreign land and mistrusting the Indigenous people,” she explained, emphasising how the film captures the cyclical nature of American overextension and the disregard for those already inhabiting the territories being seized.
The film’s exploration of power extends beyond its narrative surface to scrutinise the foundational structures of American society itself. Reichardt described how “Meek’s Cutoff” examines an early form of capitalism, studying a period before currency was established yet when rigid hierarchies were already well established. This historical lens allows the director to reveal how systems of exploitation—whether directed at Indigenous communities or the natural environment—have historical origins in American expansion. By reframing the Western genre away from glorifying masculine heroism and frontier mythology, Reichardt exposes the violence and recklessness inherent in the nation’s founding narratives.
- Expansion towards the west driven by male arrogance and expansionist goals
- Hierarchies of power created prior to structured monetary systems
- Exploitation of native populations and environmental destruction
- Recurring pattern of US overextension and territorial expansion
Power Structures and Capitalist Consequences
Reichardt’s filmmaking regularly examines the structures of power that underpin American society, treating her films as an investigation into hierarchical systems rather than individual moral failings. “A lot of my films are really about hierarchies of power,” she stated during the masterclass, stressing that her interest lies in revealing the structural dimensions of exploitation. This thematic preoccupation extends across her body of work, appearing in narratives that demonstrate how seemingly minor transgressions—a stolen commodity, a small crime—connect to extensive webs of corporate greed and institutional violence that define the nation’s economic and social landscape.
“First Cow” illustrates this approach, with Reichardt explaining how the film’s central narrative of milk theft serves as a microcosm of larger economic frameworks. The seemingly inconsequential crime transforms into a lens for comprehending the workings of corporate accumulation and the carelessness with which those frameworks treat both the environment and disadvantaged groups. By focusing on these connections, Reichardt reveals how control works not through dramatic displays but through the everyday enforcement of social orders that favour certain groups whilst deliberately marginalising others, especially Indigenous peoples and the ecosystem itself.
From Initial Commerce to Contemporary Platforms
Reichardt’s historical examination of capitalism demonstrates how contemporary power structures possess deep historical roots extending back centuries. In “First Cow,” she examines an early manifestation of capitalist logic operating in pre-currency America, a period when formal monetary systems did not yet exist yet strict social orders were already firmly entrenched. This temporal positioning enables Reichardt to demonstrate that greed and exploitation are not contemporary creations but core features of American colonial and commercial enterprise. By examining these systems historically, she reveals how contemporary capitalism constitutes a extension rather than a break from historical patterns of dispossession and environmental destruction.
The director’s analysis of early commerce serves a twofold function: it contextualises modern economic exploitation whilst simultaneously revealing the deep historical roots of Aboriginal land seizure. By illustrating how hierarchies functioned before formal monetary systems, Reichardt demonstrates that frameworks of subjugation came before and actively facilitated the rise of modern capitalist systems. This analytical approach contests stories of advancement and growth, proposing rather that American imperial expansion has continually depended on the subjugation of Indigenous peoples and the exploitation of natural resources, patterns that have merely evolved rather than radically altered across centuries.
The Calculated Speed of Opposition
Reichardt’s method of cinematic rhythm embodies far more than aesthetic preference; it operates as a deliberate act of resistance against the accelerated purchasing habits that characterise contemporary media culture. By rejecting conventional pacing, she establishes scope for viewers to examine the granular details of power’s operation, the nuanced methods in which hierarchies establish themselves through routine and recurrence. Her films call for patience and attention, qualities growing uncommon in an entertainment landscape built for rapid consumption and immediate gratification. This temporal strategy proves integral to her thematic preoccupations with structural inequality and environmental destruction, obliging spectators to sit with discomfort rather than escape into narrative catharsis.
When faced with characterisations of her work as “slow cinema,” Reichardt objected to the terminology, remembering a notably contentious broadcast debate with NPR’s Terry Gross about “Meek’s Cutoff.” Her rejection of this label reflects a broader philosophical position: that her films unfold at the tempo needed to genuinely examine their subject matter rather than conforming to commercial conventions of viewer satisfaction. The deliberate unfolding of narrative becomes a formal choice that mirrors her conceptual preoccupations, producing a integrated aesthetic framework where structure and substance strengthen each other. By advocating for this approach, Reichardt pushes spectators and commercial cinema to reassess what cinema can accomplish when released from industry expectations to entertain rather than provoke.
Countering Market Exploitation
Reichardt’s rejection of accelerated pacing serves as implicit critique of how capitalism structures not merely economic relations but experience of time itself. Commercial cinema, determined by studio interests and advertising logic, trains viewers to expect quick cuts, escalating tension, and quick plot resolution. By declining these norms, Reichardt’s films demonstrate how standards of the entertainment industry serve to naturalise consumption patterns that serve corporate interests. Her intentional pace becomes a form of formal resistance, arguing that substantive engagement with complicated social and historical matters cannot be forced into standardised structures designed for maximum commercial appeal.
This temporal resistance extends beyond simple aesthetic decisions into the realm of genuine political intervention. When audiences experience extended sequences of landscape, labour, or quiet conversation, they experience time differently—not as commodity to be efficiently managed but as substantive material deserving consideration. Reichardt’s films thus train viewers in different ways of seeing, encouraging them to observe the workings of power in moments that conventional cinema would consider narratively inert. By protecting these spaces from commercial manipulation, she creates possibilities for critical consciousness that swift cuts and emotionally coercive music would foreclose, demonstrating cinema’s capacity to serve as an instrument of ideological resistance rather than capitalist reinforcement.
- Extended sequences expose power’s everyday, routine operations within systems
- Slow pacing resists the entertainment sector’s increase in consumption and attention
- Temporal resistance allows viewers to develop critical awareness and historical awareness
Fact, Narrative and the Documentary Instinct
Reichardt’s method of filmmaking breaks down conventional boundaries between documentary and narrative fiction, a distinction she views as increasingly artificial. Her films function through documentary’s adherence to observational truth whilst employing fiction’s narrative frameworks, developing a blended approach that interrogates how stories get told and whose perspectives shape historical narratives. This methodological approach demonstrates her conviction that cinema’s power lies not in spectacular revelation but in patient examination of minor particulars and peripheral perspectives. By refusing to exaggerate or embellish her material, Reichardt maintains that authentic understanding emerges through continued engagement rather than contrived affective moments, challenging viewers to identify documentary value in what might initially appear mundane or undramatic.
This commitment to truthfulness extends to her examination of historical material, particularly in films exploring Western expansion and early American capitalism. Rather than promoting frontier mythology or heroic conquest narratives, Reichardt’s films investigate power structures, abuse of resources, and environmental destruction by focusing on those typically overlooked in conventional histories. Her documentary impulse thus becomes a form of ethical practice, demanding that cinema bear witness to suppressed stories and alternative perspectives. By maintaining formal restraint and refusing to impose predetermined meanings, she allows viewers space to cultivate their own analytical perspective of how American power structures have historically operated and continue to shape contemporary reality.