Jesus, you figure that if all those actors and filmmakers dragged themselves all the way out to the middle of fucking nowhere to shoot this film they could have at least filmed a fucking ENDING for the movie! I can see if an entire film is made in one room, fine, maybe you consider just stopping the film right in the middle of the story and calling it an “artistic statement.” But some real physical effort and discomfort when into making Meek’s Cutoff. Those actors were filthy-dirty, sweating profusely in heavy wool outfits, breathing dust day after day, hewing wooden wheels in the baking hot sun, walking neck-deep through icy rivers, shooting all those scenes in the pitch dark. Those poor actors – couldn’t they have thrown them a bone and … given them something to make it all worth while?

Meek’s Cutoff is a perfect example of what the glorious Indie Renaissance of the 1990’s eventually became. Modern filmmakers looked at the Indie Renaissance and somehow totally managed to miss what made it magical: super-efficient and marvelously written dialog, sparse and unusual scoring, exceptional story pacing and rhythm, a holistic approach to individual scenes, emphasis on soulful realism, and that all-important and elusive extra something: the cultivation of texture. Instead, what they took away from this movement and incorporated into the current indie wasteland is the following: No dialog (just the incoherent stammering of normal people in real life), no music, complete insensitivity to story pacing and rhythm, scenes that never end, emphasis on depression, angst and existential despair, and a stupefying realism that elevates every little detail (whether or not it is interesting) to the level of near obsession.

That’s Meek’s Cutoff in a nutshell. This film is very, very boring. The actors hardly talk to each other and when they do they mumble so badly you only hear about 75% of it. And for the life of me I could not figure out why it often sounded like they were talking in a small metal barn when they were in fact speaking in the middle of 100 square miles of flat, open desert – clearly something went amiss with their “sound-design.” The set-up is pathetic (the all-important first fifteen minutes is spent watching them all cross a river in silence.) You don’t know who these people are, what they are doing, where they have been, where they trying to go – nothing! If I hadn’t read the plot summary on the poster I would have no idea what the film was about. Given this starting point, plus the fact that no one in the film is particularly likable, it should not be surprising that the rest of the film is excruciatingly dull and pointless.

These filmmakers are obsessed with realism: they shot all the night scenes lit only by a tiny campfire or by starlight! Great, all that means is you can’t fucking see anyone as they talk! It’s like a parody of Barry Lindon.

I don’t know what it is about Michelle Williams, but she is the most depressing actress I have ever seen. Every time I see a movie that she is in, I come away depressed, and with the distinct impression that she was primarily responsible. I think I am going to swear off Michelle Williams movies as a result.

I know this film has incredible buzz right now, but it really is a very feeble piece of art.