Filmmaker Kelly Reichardt has offered a frank evaluation of American cinema’s habit of repeating its own myths, telling an audience at the Visions du Réel documentary festival in Nyon, Switzerland, that “the American story perpetually recycles 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 intentional recalibration of the cinematic lens—moving away from the patriarchal perspective that has traditionally shaped the form to examine what happens when the mythology is examined 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.
Reinterpreting the Western Through a New Lens
Reichardt’s reinterpretive approach finds its most pointed expression in “Meek’s Cutoff,” a film that tracks a group of settlers lost in the Oregon desert and serves as a explicit critique on American expansionist ideology. The director directly connected the film’s themes to the historical context of its creation, drawing parallels between the hubris of westward expansion and the military intervention in Iraq. “Meek was this guy with all this hubris – ‘Here we go!’ – venturing into some foreign land and mistrusting the Indigenous people,” she explained, highlighting how the film depicts the cyclical nature of American overreach and the disregard for those already inhabiting the territories being conquered.
The film’s analysis of power extends beyond its narrative surface to challenge the foundational structures of American society itself. Reichardt described how “Meek’s Cutoff” investigates an early form of capitalism, studying a period before currency was established yet when rigid hierarchies were already deeply rooted. 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 reconceiving the Western genre away from glorifying masculine heroism and frontier mythology, Reichardt exposes the violence and recklessness embedded within the nation’s founding narratives.
- Expansion towards the west propelled by male arrogance and imperial ambition
- Power structures created before formal currency systems
- Mistreatment of native populations and ecological damage
- Recurring pattern of American overreach and territorial conquest
Power Structures and Capitalism’s Consequences
Reichardt’s filmmaking consistently interrogates the structures of power that sustain American society, viewing her work 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, emphasising that her interest lies in exposing the systemic nature of exploitation. This thematic preoccupation extends across her body of work, appearing in narratives that reveal how seemingly minor transgressions—a stolen commodity, a small crime—connect to sprawling systems of corporate greed and institutional violence that shape the nation’s economic and social landscape.
“The film First Cow” illustrates this strategy, with Reichardt explaining how the film’s core story of stealing milk functions as a window into broader capitalist structures. The seemingly inconsequential crime serves as a lens for comprehending the processes behind capitalist wealth-building and the recklessness with which those structures treat both the natural world and disadvantaged groups. By focusing on these relationships, Reichardt reveals how authority functions not through sweeping actions but through the continuous reinforcement of social orders that advantage certain communities whilst systematically disadvantaging others, especially Indigenous peoples and the ecosystem itself.
From Initial Trade to Modern Platforms
Reichardt’s analytical study of capitalism demonstrates how modern power structures have deep historical roots extending back centuries. In “First Cow,” she examines an initial expression of capitalist logic operating in pre-currency America, a period when official currency frameworks had not yet been established yet strict social orders were already deeply embedded. This historical framing allows Reichardt to illustrate that greed and exploitation are not contemporary creations but foundational elements of American colonial and commercial enterprise. By tracing these systems backward, she reveals how contemporary capitalism represents a extension rather than a departure from historical patterns of dispossession and environmental destruction.
The director’s investigation of primitive trade serves a dual purpose: it historicises contemporary economic violence whilst at the same time uncovering the deep historical roots of Indigenous dispossession. By illustrating how power structures operated before formal monetary systems, Reichardt illustrates that systems of domination antedated and fundamentally enabled the emergence of contemporary capitalism. This perspective contests stories of advancement and growth, suggesting instead that American imperial expansion has repeatedly rested on the oppression of Native populations and the appropriation of raw materials, trends that have only transformed rather than radically altered across historical periods.
The Calculated Tempo of Defiance
Reichardt’s approach to cinematic rhythm represents far more than aesthetic preference; it operates as a deliberate act of pushback against the accelerated consumption patterns that define contemporary media culture. By rejecting conventional pacing, she establishes scope for viewers to observe the granular details of power’s operation, the nuanced methods in which hierarchies establish themselves through routine and repetition. Her films require patience and attention, qualities increasingly rare 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, compelling viewers to sit with discomfort rather than escape into narrative catharsis.
When presented with descriptions of her work as “slow cinema,” Reichardt bristled at the terminology, remembering a strikingly vivid broadcast debate with NPR’s Terry Gross about “Meek’s Cutoff.” Her resistance to this label reveals a more expansive artistic philosophy: that her films move at the speed necessary to truly investigate their subject matter rather than adhering to industrial standards of viewer satisfaction. The deliberate unfolding of story functions as a artistic selection that reflects her thematic concerns, producing a cohesive creative statement where structure and substance complement each other. By championing this method, Reichardt challenges both viewers and the film industry to reassess what cinema can accomplish when released from industry expectations to please rather than disturb.
Countering Corporate Deception
Reichardt’s rejection of accelerated pacing functions as implicit criticism of how capitalism shapes not merely economic relations but experience of time itself. Commercial cinema, shaped by studio interests and advertising logic, trains viewers to expect fast editing, escalating tension, and instant story resolution. By declining these norms, Reichardt’s films reveal how standards of the entertainment industry serve to normalise consumption patterns that serve corporate interests. Her intentional pace becomes a means of formal resistance, insisting that meaningful engagement with complicated social and historical matters cannot be hurried or condensed into standardised structures designed for maximum commercial appeal.
This temporal resistance goes further than mere stylistic choice into the realm of genuine political intervention. When audiences experience extended sequences of landscape, labour, or quiet conversation, they perceive temporality in alternative ways—not as commodity to be efficiently managed but as substantive material deserving consideration. Reichardt’s films thus educate audiences in different ways of seeing, prompting them to recognise the workings of power in moments that conventional cinema would consider narratively inert. By safeguarding these moments from commercial manipulation, she creates possibilities for critical consciousness that rapid editing and manipulative scoring would foreclose, demonstrating cinema’s capacity to serve as an instrument of ideological resistance rather than capitalist reinforcement.
- Extended sequences reveal power’s everyday, routine operations within systems
- Slow pacing resists the entertainment sector’s acceleration of consumption and attention
- Temporal resistance enables viewers to develop critical awareness and historical awareness
Reality, Storytelling and the Documentary Drive
Reichardt’s method of filmmaking dissolves conventional boundaries between documentary and narrative fiction, a separation she regards as increasingly artificial. Her films work within documentary’s adherence to observational truth whilst employing fiction’s structural possibilities, establishing a blended approach that examines how stories get told and whose perspectives shape historical narratives. This working practice reflects her conviction that cinema’s power lies not in spectacular revelation but in patient examination of marginal elements and marginal voices. By resisting exaggerate or embellish her material, Reichardt maintains that real comprehension emerges through sustained attention rather than manufactured emotional crescendos, prompting viewers to acknowledge documentary value in what might initially look unremarkable or undramatic.
This commitment to truthfulness informs her examination of historical material, especially within films addressing Western expansion and early American capitalism. Rather than celebrating frontier mythology or heroic conquest narratives, Reichardt’s films examine power structures, exploitation, and environmental destruction by focusing on those typically overlooked in conventional histories. Her documentary impulse thus becomes a form of ethical practice, insisting that cinema bear witness to suppressed stories and alternative perspectives. By maintaining formal restraint and refusing to impose predetermined meanings, she creates room for audiences to develop their own analytical perspective of how American power structures have historically operated and continue to influence contemporary reality.