Original caricature by Jeff York of John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell in Martin McDonagh’s new film WILD HORSE NINE (copyright 2026).
WILD HORSE NINE is my favorite film of the year. It might just be the best film of 2025 as well. And I’m prepared to tell you precious little about it. Why? Quite simply, there are so many little nuances and surprises, let alone some big rug pulls, that I don’t want to give any of them away. Because I’m hesitant to spill the beans, this may be my shortest review ever. Certainly, it’s the shortest for a film that merits such major kudos. Here’s just enough to get you into the theaters:
It’s 1973, and CIA agents Chris Carlisle (John Malkovich) and Lee Chesterfield (Sam Rockwell) are on assignment in Chile, meddling in the country’s politics and setting up a coup d’etat to topple the democratically elected leader Salvador Allende. As tensions rise and Carlisle grows mouthier and more unpredictable in his old age, CIA bureau chief MJ (Steve Buscemi) encourages the two to take a short vacation, so they head over to Easter Island, a remote volcanic island 2,200 miles west of continental Chile.
But a rest-and-relaxation holiday isn’t exactly what happens. Both agents grow bored with the island, even though they find the enormous stone moai (those giant heads) impressive. Carlisle keeps dropping hints that he’s finally going to write his tell-all book, detailing all sorts of secret shenanigans perpetrated by the US government in foreign lands, and Chesterfield doesn’t know whether his pal is serious about such an exposé or just babbling about as dementia starts to take over his aging mind.
While there, the two spies try to enjoy the nightlife, the local cuisine, and even sally up to a pair of comely tourists from Chile named Monica (Mariana di Girolamo) and Alicia (Ailin Salas). Meanwhile, in addition to being Carlisle’s “babysitter,” Chesterfield must contend, long-distance, with a cranky wife (Parker Posey) whom he’s separated from yet still talks to daily.
Suffice it to say, shenanigans occur, and your expectations of exactly what’s going on in the story may be toppled as readily as the Allende government that the CIA has deemed in need of regime change. Writer/director Martin McDonagh has once again brought a stellar dark comedy to the screen, one that is hilarious and heartbreaking, silly and serious, tense and tragic. He writes vivid characters, loads them up with flaws, and yet we can’t help but feel empathy for them even when they’re at their worst.
Malkovich has never been better on screen, and Rockwell delivers another superb performance in his varied and impressive career. Everyone in support is terrific, as are the location cinematography, quirky 70s costume design, production values, editing, and score. McDonagh can turn his movies from riotous laughs to gasping shocks on a dime, and it’s time the Oscars handed him their statue for such clever and original storytelling. WILD HORSE NINE knocked my socks off, and I think you’ll have the same reaction.
There. I’ve said enough. Now, make plans to see it this weekend, when it opens on November 6.
