A Film Review: Luke Gilford’s “National Anthem”

By Ross

The cowboy visuals and backdrops intrigue, right from the get-go in Luke Gilford’s captivating and engagingly beautiful “National Anthem” which floats like a hypnotic dream across the screen, drenched in Americana sunrays and vistas that astound. The themes that are embedded in this carefully and expertly crafted film resonate, which is no surprise as the uncomfortable notions embedded in this engaging tale linger with astuteness around a young man not fitting into the world he feels stuck in. These emotional states of distress are something almost any queer person can connect to, engage with, and feel, as this framework is a struggle we can all relate to wholeheartedly, particularly around the desperate need to find our chosen family; the people who will love and accept us without judgment. Many in the queer community run to the big city to find that sense of community, hoping to find it in gay nightclubs and bars, but others don’t have that luxury or that inclination. To some, the big city is just another place where they don’t feel they belong. Add that to their blossoming sexuality or gender identity, the isolation can be as vast as those New Mexican vistas, and as treacherous.

These complications that many rural queer folks engage with were a framing and a refocusing that I encountered firsthand over thirty years ago when I started, by chance, to attend numerous queer rodeos across the nation. We were there to sell our Don’t Panic gay pride tee shirts, but in the end, we showed up to support the queer rodeo circuit for all that it stood for. We were a hit back in the day, setting up booths at gay pride events across the country and selling our humorous brand of gay pride on a white tee (like our famed “Nobody Knows I’m Gay” or “Everyone Thinks I’m Straight” tee shirt), but the queer rodeo circuit became something else to me and our company. Those printed sayings took on a whole other meaning, unveiling a more complex landscape to try to understand. We barely broke even at these gatherings, yet they somehow started to feel important on a deeper level, and more meaningful. Not just us being there, although that part was so much fun, enlivening, and wonderful, but it was more about support and care for the safe space they created and for the chosen families of queer people and their allies that attended. 

As a company, we happily paid our fees for that table, and joyfully engaged with the overwhelming feeling of love, care, and hope that was in the air all around us. I have a great loving connection to and admiration for the queer rodeo circuit in America, standing up for their inclusion and right to exist, against all odds. So upon reading the synopsis of “National Anthem”, it brought me back to those moments of loving engagement and to the importance of telling stories outside the typical gay urban box, and Gilford (who co-wrote the screenplay with Kevin Best and David Largman Murray) delivers the goods majestically and magically, creating a film that feels both polished and uniquely fresh.

The flat grey images of gravel being shoveled by hard-working day laborers were not the visuals I expected as the film opened itself up to us. But the harsh metallic clashing does become part of the formula, as we slowly get introduced to the harsh, sad world of Dylan, played gloriously well by Charlie Plummer (“Lean on Pete”). His gentle undemanding presence pulls us in without force, reminding us of a young Cillian Murphy on the verge, connecting us quickly to his shackled existence laid heavy on his strong lean shoulders. When not engaged in whatever manual labor he can find each and every day, he takes care of, with an open pure heart, his younger brother Cassidy, tenderly portrayed by the young Joey DeLeon (2018’s “Ballroom Billy“). Their loving bond and hold over one another are sewn in from a strong inner desperation, mainly because of the problematic life skills of their struggling hard-edged mother, who works as a hairdresser by day, but spends most of her nights going out, getting drunk, and bringing lovers home to their small one-bedroom house in the middle of nowhere special. 

At first, the portrayal of the mother by Robyn Lively (1989’s “Teen Witch“; “Twin Peaks“) feels stark and one-dimensional, driving forth a well-known stereotype of an uncaring alcoholic mother lost in her own need for validation. It’s done with precision and a worthy expertise, giving us space so our empathy can clearly connect to the two young sons of this self-serving woman. But the utterly surprising beauty of this piece lies not only in Dylan’s mind-expanding experience of a new world order, laid out touchingly by Plummer – a task not easily done, yet he climbs that mountain without slipping a step – but the film’s majesty lies in the way it gives depth and meaning to this troubled family, making sure we don’t label anyone too quickly, particularly the mother. In Lively’s strong portrayal, we never give in to the impulse of broad-stroked judgment, but gently, over time, find our way through to her other side.

Dylan, from the beginning, works and works (as does the magnetic Plummer most hypnotically), basically letting his life be taken over by the care of his younger brother. He exhausts himself daily so that he can be there for him, while also finding the slightest edge to squirrel away what he can so that he may buy his dream RV and hopefully travel a world outside those cage walls he finds himself stuck in. The set-up, at times, does feel stagey and obvious, as he gets singled out and hired by the extremely handsome Pepe, played engagingly by the stunning Rene Rosado (ABC’s “The Connors“). It’s a telling moment of truth, seen in the face of Rosado’s Pepe, but the embracing of the genre (and of Dylan) is done with a wide panoramic lens, giving us a sense of a compelling queer community that Dylan never saw coming, nor did he know how to take them in when they rode into his view.

In a quick casual turn of fate, he is driven and roped into the spectacularly crafted ‘House of Splendor’, a dream-state ranch filled with an assortment of hypnotic beautiful souls that Dylan doesn’t quite know how to comprehend. They are from another dimension, in his eyes. Yet, the energy draws him in almost immediately, especially after seeing a beautiful trans woman named Sky, gorgeously embodied by Eve Lindley (2022’s “Bros“), ride by him and smile. Sky becomes everything to Dylan after they take a liking to the wide-eyed young man. And we can completely understand, even if the visuals border on the overly hyped and crafted.

“It’s the greatest rush of adrenaline“, we are told, about riding a bull, and expanding one’s mind, and as directed with a keen sharp eye by writer/producer Gilford (“New York Minute“), we can’t help but join in the love of the scenery, while also seeing a storm coming long before our leading man does. But that awareness only made me more invested in his inner exploration and development. It’s clear he is not going to get through this reframing unbruised, but we do wonder to what extent and how.

The shifting of tone is as subtle as the film’s beautiful sunsets and pure mountain vistas as Dylan explores his own expanding psyche while discovering a loving community that exists in the welcoming arms of the ‘House of Splendor’ residents. At times the casting of all those beautiful creatures who inhabit the ‘House of Splendor’ feels a bit like a soft-porn cologne ad or a gay fashion photo shoot, but the connectivity of all those stunning creations does draw us into their utopian existence, helping push forth the job of upending Dylan’s understanding of self and family. And giving him a safe space to call home, even if it turns out to be temporary.

Everyone and everything is beautiful at the ‘House of Splendor,’ even in its subtle undercoating of pain and neediness. We are given a visual and emotional trick that pulls us in like a dream, but the whole enterprise could have used some more diversity in the presentation of queer bodies and personas. We get some of that diversity in the captivating landscapes of people attending the queer rodeos as the camera casually pans the crowds, but in terms of the leaders and the main riders of “National Anthem“, standardized beauty and sensuality stay firmly and muscularly in the obvious.

Yet, with quiet power and tender engagements, the wide open range is delivered free and achingly beautiful, especially in the framing of the drag character, Carrie, played with perception and heart by the fantastic Mason Alexander Park. They are a wonder that both elevates our understanding while also helping hold the exploratory hand of Dylan, and, in a beautifully delicate turn, the hand of Dylan’s younger brother whose mind is as naturally open as the blue skies above.

“National Anthem” easily pulls us into their heartfelt community that is overflowing with acceptance without judgment. It’s no wonder Plummer’s Dylan is completely enthralled by their embracing of his complicated bull-ride towards self-acceptance and understanding. It’s as glorious and rich as the landscape that surrounds this ranch haven, all thanks to the glorious eye of cinematographer Katelin Arizmendi (2019’s “Swallow“). As stoicism shifts before our eyes, from pain and loneliness to a braver expansion of what is possible, the unforgettably vibrant and dreamy “National Anthem” holds us tight, with power and emotional truth at its core and its sharp handling of humanity and love. I was thankful that the film refrained from giving Dylan a fairytale Hollywood ending, deciding to take us on a gorgeous solo gallop that is more rocky and complex than traditional film-making might prescribe. It allows us to see and hopefully understand a vibrant world outside of our big city realms, saddling up the meaning and power of acceptance and non-judgment with wonder and subtle care.