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Fifteen silent seconds are a long time onscreen, and theyre pregnant.
In that horse, Coleman instantly recognizes his own mix of violence and vulnerability.
And vice versa, doncha know.
But it has two mighty strengths.
Theres a misperception that horses are great camera objects.
But close-ups are tricky.
But Clermont-Tonnerre doesnt go New Agey on us.
Respect his space and hell respect yours.
I bet you dont have one good dance move.
The Mustangflirts with formula and sometimes succumbs to it.
(Youd think theyd keep the stuff more secure.)
Parts of the climax and its aftermath go by too quickly.
(Was the film trimmed for length?)
But the plot machinations arent as important as Schoenaerts face, which finally opens to us.
Coleman can finally bare himself, but its impossible for Martha to reciprocate.
Her trust will take longer to win than the mustangs.
Any movie that makes leaving oneself behind so tactile and enticing is a horse of a different color.
