Quick Synopsis: Two CIA agents take a trip to Easter Island in preparation for one of their own deaths amongst the backdrop of future regime change.

I like the work of Martin McDonagh more than I think I do. If someone were to ask me my favourite writer/directors, his name wouldn’t come up. I’m not entirely sure why, either. Perhaps his particular brand of humour and storytelling isn’t something I’d instinctively gravitate towards, or perhaps I just haven’t given his filmography the attention it deserves. But I love the films of his I’ve seen (Three Billboards and Banshees), and the ones I haven’t (In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths) I’ve been told are right up my alley. That streak continues with Wild Horse Nine. Much like his previous work, it’s an acquired taste. McDonagh has a very particular way of writing characters and dialogue, and it’s not going to work for everyone. Some people will sit there frustrated that they’re not getting to the violence. Some will be annoyed at the dialogue, wondering why everyone is talking the way they are. Others will find the deliberately meandering conversations and slower pace tedious. And some people will simply be bored. It’s the sort of film that requires you to buy into what McDonagh is doing, rather than waiting for it to become something else.

Personally, I got what McDonagh was going for, and I loved it. The dialogue is a nice mix of meandering and impactful. People will talk about seemingly unimportant stuff, going off on tangents and getting caught up in conversations that don’t appear to be going anywhere, before suddenly dropping plot-relevant bombshells. Because of this, the audience has to keep paying attention to everything that’s being said. Which isn’t difficult, as the dialogue is often hilarious. There’s a real unpredictability to the conversations, where you never quite know whether the next line is going to be a throwaway joke or something that completely changes how you view a character or situation.

On paper, a lot of the dialogue is a bit shit. But Malkovich and Rockwell know how to deliver it so that it works. That’s not an insult to the writing, by the way. I’ve written multiple scripts where people have said, “This sentence doesn’t work, it’s clunky and weird”, and I’ve had to respond, “Wait until you hear it being said”, and then it makes sense. There’s a difference between reading dialogue and hearing someone deliver it, particularly when the delivery is as important as the words themselves. Malkovich, in particular, is doing something weirder than usual with his delivery here, and I’m all for it. There’s something about the way he says certain lines that makes them considerably funnier than they have any right to be. Rockwell is equally good at playing along with the absurdity, giving the two of them a wonderfully entertaining dynamic.

The cast is relatively small, so everyone gets a chance to shine. I particularly liked the performances of Ailin Salas and Mariana di Girolamo. I’m not that familiar with them due to my ignorance of Chilean and Argentinian cinema, but they more than hold their own among more established (to English-speaking audiences) stars. Neither feels like they’re simply there to support the better-known members of the cast. They bring their own personalities to the film, and I found myself just as interested in their scenes as those involving Malkovich and Rockwell.

As I said, people may go in expecting a hyper-violent film, but McDonagh refuses to live up to expectations, constantly playing with what you think will happen. You know there’s a chance things could all go to shit at any moment, but they don’t. Or at least, not when you expect them to. There’s a constant sense that the film is building towards something, that one wrong comment or misplaced bit of information could send everything spiralling out of control. But McDonagh is in no particular rush to get there. Instead, scenes go on longer than they naturally should, allowing everything room to breathe and the jokes to happen naturally. Conversations wander off in unexpected directions, characters get distracted by things that seem completely irrelevant, and moments that feel like they’re building towards something dramatic suddenly take a turn for the ridiculous. It’s a film that sometimes feels like it’s just put the characters in a situation and doesn’t know what will happen next. Obviously, that’s not actually the case, but it’s a testament to how natural the interactions feel. There’s a looseness to the storytelling that makes it all the more entertaining, particularly when you realise just how carefully everything has been constructed. It’s a film that gives the impression of having no idea where it’s going, despite knowing exactly where it wants to end up.

That’s not to say it’s not narratively tight. While the script does sometimes take what look like weird detours, it always heads in the right direction. Everything is built towards and foreshadowed naturally. Essentially, if you think something is weird and can’t see the reason for it, it will pay off later on. Little details that initially seem insignificant turn out to have a purpose, and conversations that appear to be nothing more than amusing diversions often end up being more important than you realise. It’s the sort of screenplay that rewards paying attention without making you feel like you’re being given homework. Nothing feels particularly forced, and the eventual payoffs are all the more satisfying because of that.

The ending is built towards beautifully. It’s a long, drawn-out scene, but one that absolutely earns its length. The audience knows what’s about to be said, and the implications of it. You can tell that the characters know it too, and they’re deliberately delaying saying anything. There’s an almost uncomfortable tension in watching people dance around something that everyone knows is inevitable. Every additional second feels deliberate, with the silence and the things left unsaid doing just as much work as the dialogue. It’s a wonderful example of McDonagh understanding that sometimes the most effective way to build towards a moment is simply to refuse to let it happen.

The beauty of that moment is matched by the beauty of the scenery (and yes, I am aware how clunky that transition was). There’s something quite striking about the way the film uses its surroundings. Not only is it visually interesting, but there’s a real sense of isolation to everything. The landscape is beautiful, but there’s also something quite lonely about it. The characters feel physically and emotionally detached from the world around them, almost as though they’ve been removed from civilisation and left to exist in their own little bubble. There’s an interesting sense of irony to this, particularly as one of the characters seems to be driven by coming to terms with the effects their actions have had on the world. He’s surrounded by reminders of the world beyond his immediate surroundings, yet seems almost entirely disconnected from it. It’s a nice bit of visual storytelling, with the setting quietly reinforcing some of the film’s bigger ideas without needing to spell anything out.

The characters aren’t particularly likeable. They’re needlessly aggressive at times, and the openness with which they discuss installing military dictatorships in South America because they’d benefit the US is shocking in its nonchalance. Well, not really shocking if you know anything about US history. There’s something particularly funny, albeit in a rather bleak way, about how casually they discuss the fate of other countries as though those living in them are little more than inconveniences. It’s an uncomfortable reminder that, for some people, these aren’t particularly outrageous ideas. The characters have to be shitty to do those things. They’re generally unpleasant, ridiculous, and kind of stupid. Thankfully, being likeable isn’t a prerequisite for being interesting, and McDonagh clearly understands that. There’s a certain joy in watching people who are so convinced of their own intelligence and importance repeatedly expose just how awful they are. You wouldn’t want to spend any time with them in reality, but seeing them on screen is a fun way to spend an evening. In fact, I suspect spending two hours with them on screen is considerably more enjoyable than spending five minutes with them in person.

As I said, this film won’t be for everyone. People going in expecting a Tarantino-esque movie will be disappointed by the slow pace, the periods of silence, and the lack of feet. There’s a certain expectation that a film involving characters like these will eventually descend into a bloodbath, with increasingly ridiculous violence and a body count to match. But that’s not really what McDonagh is interested in. You might spend the time waiting for the plot to kick in, only to realise it kicked in about 30 minutes ago and you didn’t really notice. The humour is unique, so if you’re not vibing with it, you won’t just be bored, you’ll be actively annoyed. A lot of the entertainment comes from watching people have conversations that seem to serve absolutely no purpose, delivered with complete sincerity and an almost bizarre commitment to whatever nonsense they’re discussing. If you don’t like characters delivering absurd dialogue with a strange sense of sincerity, Wild Horse Nine will seem like hell. And if you’re not enjoying the conversations, there’s not a great deal else to fall back on. This is very much a film that asks you to meet it on its own terms, and I can appreciate why some people won’t be willing to do that.

But I had a great time with it. It’s funny, strange, occasionally uncomfortable, and populated by characters I was more than happy to spend time with. It’s the sort of film that manages to be entertaining while also giving you plenty to think about afterwards. More importantly, it reminded me that I should probably stop overlooking Martin McDonagh when thinking about my favourite filmmakers. I might not instinctively put him in that category, but if he keeps making films like this, perhaps I should start. He’s clearly got a very particular voice, and one that seems to work remarkably well for me, even when I don’t necessarily expect it to.

Also, if there’s one thing I enjoy more than a good Martin McDonagh film, it’s a good Martin McDonagh film reminding the US that its historical record isn’t exactly spotless. Unlike the UK, which has never committed any atrocities at all (please, nobody pick up a history book and prove this wrong).