Josh O’Connor stars as a cattleman seeking a new blueprint for life after losing his ranch in Rebuilding.
Rebuilding is the kind of film that typically sends me running for the hills—the meditative Americana drama in which long stares out truck windows are supposed to carry the weight of the universe. But Max Walker-Silverman actually pulls off something quite special here. Rebuilding is a quiet enchantment that feels like uncovering a half-burned diary and realizing the pages are somehow still legible. With Josh O’Connor (Challengers) as the soulful center of its story, the film rises above its contemporaries, finding aching beauty in resilience, community, and the courage it takes to start over when everything is reduced to ashes.
O’Connor’s Dusty is the quintessential cowboy, though not in the Marlboro sense. He’s gentle, a bit lost, and visibly exhausted from both physical and emotional labor. After a wildfire destroys his family farm, Dusty finds himself stuck in the embers of his old life, trying to salvage what little remains: some burnt trees, a few lovely neighbors, and a relationship with his estranged daughter. His is a performance that thrives in the details—an unsteady hand lingering on the brim of his hat, a soft sigh as he leans against a trailer that’s more skeletal frame than shelter. O’Connor chews scenery like sunflower seeds, so the weight of his loss can come through in even the smallest gestures.
The film’s narrative unfolds like the turning of seasons—slow, predictable, and quietly transformative. Walker-Silverman lets us feel the stillness of the landscape, even when we’re coursing down the road on Dusty’s truck. The breathtaking cinematography captures the charred remains of the farm. As well as the harsh yet tender beauty of the surrounding, fittingly “dusty” wilderness. Dusty’s internal devastation practically infects the desolate desert all around him. Though it still offers faint sunsets of hope. A shot of scorched earth giving way to a single plant is almost cliché—until you realize how deeply Dusty needs that cliché, however trite.
What does it mean to rebuild?
Walker-Silverman wisely sidesteps the tropes that plague so many tedious films in this genre. There are no villains here, no screaming arguments or melodramatic twists. Even Dusty’s sometimes brooding daughter, played with quiet strength by Lily LaTorre, isn’t the rebellious stereotype you might expect. Their scenes together are tender, filled with unspoken regret and tentative attempts at reconnection. In one particularly moving moment, they share a quiet evening putting up glow stars on the walls of their trailer. The scene says more about rebuilding relationships than a monologue ever could.
But for all its meditative despair, Rebuilding doesn’t lose sight of the decency fueling its redemption story. Dusty’s interactions with his small-town neighbors, who band together to make the most out of their horrible circumstances, are in some way minute. Just a few folks trying to get by and sharing food and swapping stories. But there’s such a realness to it, an unmistakable hand of genuine humanity you could see yourself joining in on while walking by.
And that raises the film’s central question: What does it mean to rebuild? Is it about restoring what was lost, or is it about finding a new way forward? Rebuilding suggests that hope lies in the act itself—in the choice to pick up the pieces, even when the end result is uncertain.
Emotions are set to a simmer.
The film is undoubtedly a slow burn, but with all the warmth that entails. Walker-Silverman’s direction invites patience, asking the audience to sit with Dusty’s pain, but also his small moments of clarity. Watching this at Sundance while wildfires continue to burn all over Los Angeles is an especially surreal experience for the folks who came to this festival for an escape. Life doesn’t always comes with quick fixes or tidy resolutions. But even this moment where likeminded artists and writers and filmmakers can band together and celebrate what unites them…well, that might explain why Rebuilding is sure to strike a chord.
For some, Rebuilding might not push hard enough. It’s admittedly a little coy. The emotions are there, but they simmer rather than boil, and some may find themselves yearning for a bit more narrative thread pulling. But to those who are willing to meet it on its own terms, Rebuilding can be richly rewarding as a cinematic poem that might rhyme with your own experiences.
In a genre often mired in cynicism and overwrought melodrama, Rebuilding stands out as a testament to the goodness of ordinary people and the quiet heroism of starting over. It’s not flashy, and it’s certainly not a crowd pleasing romp in the most superficial sense. But for those who find solace in nature (both human and otherwise), it’s a reminder that even in the face of ruin, life can still rise from the ashes.
Rebuilding is out now in theaters. Watch the trailer here.
Images courtesy of Bleecker Street.
REVIEW RATING
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Rebuilding - 8/10
8/10
Jon is one of the co-founders of InBetweenDrafts and our resident Podcast Editor. He hosts the podcasts Cinemaholics, Mad Men Men, Rookie Pirate Radio, and Fantasy Writing for Barbarians. He doesn’t sleep, essentially.
