Like many of the global audience for the miniseries NORMAL PEOPLE, I fell hard for Daisy Edgar-Jones in 2020. Her portrayal of Marianne was a revelation, a nuanced and complex portrayal of a young woman overcoming the Irish caste system, the pressures of dating, a rich family’s dysfunction, and an on-again/off-again relationship with a working class lad from her hometown. The role made her into a star to be reckoned with, but since then, the talented young actress has struggled mightily to find worthy parts. Her newest film, ON SWIFT HORSES, doesn’t help matters.
Author Shannon Pufahl’s novel, adapted by Bryce Kass and directed by Daniel Minahan, makes it to the screen as a glossy, pricey effort, but it’s done in by an aimless story, thin characterizations, and plodding energy. Unfortunately, Edgar-Jones plays another in a long a line of the unhappy, morose characters she’s essayed on screen since her television breakthrough and it’s depressing to watch her play another sad sack who’s under the thumb of men like she was in WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING, FRESH, and UNDER THE BANNER OF HEAVEN. Where is Edgar-Jones’ gleam and sassiness she showed as Marianne, let alone during every film junket? Even in her big cinematic hit TWISTERS, she was relegated to playing a mopey, super-serious scientist while the carefree Glenn Powell all but lassoed tornadoes. Is she having any fun yet? Are we?
Here, she plays Muriel, a bored housewife in the 1950s, trapped in a loveless marriage to Lee (Will Poulter) living in cookie-cutter housing on the outskirts of San Diego. Early in the story, she seemed to pine for his brother Julius (Jacob Elordi), but he turns out to be gay and spends the crux of the movie far away in Vegas. So, what’s the point of it all? The actual love story that occurs in the film is between Julius and another man. He ends up blending work and pleasure, carrying on a secret homosexual affair with fellow casino employee Henry (Diego Calva). The more their story takes center stage, the more Muriel’s drifts away. Let alone any real connection to him.
Poulter is almost always terrific and lord knows he tries to do what he can do with a thankless role. Elordi can be mesmerizing (EUPHORIA, PRISCILLA), but here he spends too much time smoking, posing and trying to channel James Dean. As the male leads, neither makes their characters particularly likable, pitiable or even attractive. And even when Muriel ends up becoming involved with a tomboyish neighbor (Sasha Calle, solid in too few scenes), it feels as half-assed as almost every other idea in the story, from exploring her skills at gambling on the ponies to the illusionary hopes of the “American Dream” for returning GI’s to a weird, adopted horse subplot that feels ludicrous at best.
Thus, despite its accomplished cast, a novel pedigree, and some expert production values, ON SWIFT HORSES can’t disguise that it is one big dud, unfulfilling from start to end. It may look like a winner, but as compelling filmmaking, it utterly fails to win, place or show.
