“Place of Bones” is a Boilerplate Western With a Few Bright Sparks
Something interesting is happening to the modern western. After decades of male-dominated frontier stories in which dutiful wives maintain the home while their brave men go off to be cowboys, attention has been turning towards the women left behind in the wild west. The 2017 Netflix miniseries Godless seemed to open the door for female characters in more action oriented roles, picking up the guns and ammo when the men are nowhere to be found. Audrey Cummings’ new film Place of Bones continues this trend by following a pioneer woman desperate to protect her daughter on an isolated homestead. Despite a compelling hook and feminist premise, an uneven tone and overzealous performances keep the film from ever really taking flight.
Pandora Meadows (Heather Graham) is a pragmatic prairie woman left to care for her little plot of land after her husband’s recent passing. Her daughter Hester (Brielle Robillard) visits his grave every day and laments the lack of people around their isolated farm. After a restless night with her mother on guard, Hester finds an injured man called Calhoun (Corin Nemec) lying in a nearby patch of grass. The women drag him inside and begin tending to his wounds only to discover he’s inadvertently brought a gang of dangerous bank robbers to their door. With little to defend themselves, mother and daughter must create an uneasy alliance with Calhoun to withstand the outlaws hellbent on invading their home.
Cummings lays out the film with a steady hand, making the most of the gorgeous setting. Though rife with danger, this prairie land feels like a hidden paradise and we understand why Pandora would fight to protect her idyllic little slice of heaven. But filming the characters proves to be a different beast altogether. Deliberate blocking feels reminiscent of a stage play or mid-century film and there’s a forcefulness that seems designed to reach the back row of a large theater rather than a camera just inches away.
These larger than life acting choices make sense for Pandora, a hard and deliberate woman used to calling the shots. Similarly, Calhoun is a wild card outlaw incensed that the womens’ “treatment” involves amputating a limb. But it’s difficult to get a read on who Hester is. Robillard swings between an independent young woman closer to Pandora’s own age and a reckless, naive, and disobedient child. Outsized performances work well for Graham and Nemic, both veteran actors, while Robillard fails to land on a cohesive characterization.
On the opposite end of this spectrum is Tom Hopper as ringleader Bear John, a sinister killer just as likely to strike out at members of his own posse. Perhaps because they’re not confined to a tiny cabin, his ragtag gang seems to operate with more natural subtlety in the open frontierland. However, this restraint feels out of place with the boisterous tone. Hopper may not be overacting, but his understated performance gets lost in the mix and the film’s Big Bad never truly comes to life.
Aside from engaging gender dynamics, there’s nothing really new to Place of Bones. Outlaws are bad and only a brave woman can persuade a duplicitous thief with a heart of gold to risk his life and do the right thing. After a tense, but predictable climax, a late stage twist throws everything into the air and challenges our assumptions of these god-fearing women. While hiding in plain sight since the film’s opening frames, this disturbing revelation comes in the story’s final moments, when all significant action has already come to pass. We don’t have time to fully absorb the weight of this new knowledge and what should be a shocking recalibration feels more like a final left hook outside the locker room door.
Place of Bones is doing some interesting things. Cummings creates her own genre remix by sprinkling in elements of humor and horror, while exploring the often forgotten lives of pioneer women. Graham and Nemec make for a fascinating duo with sparkling chemistry that elevates a relatively standard script. Each scene exudes the rugged beauty of the natural landscape and Cummings lingers on stunning sunrises and moonlit nights. But a jumbled tone and forceful execution keeps it all from coming together and we’re left with a familiar story that struggles to separate itself from the pack. Horror fans will likely be delighted with the film’s grotesque twist, but it’s far from certain they will stick around long enough to find out what it is.
Jenn Adams is a writer, podcaster, and film critic from Nashville, TN. Find her social media nonsense @jennferatu.