‘East of Wall’ Review: A Grieving Mother and Daughter Find Peace in the Badlands
From Vittorio di Sica’s “Bicycle Thieves” to the films of the Safdies and Sean Baker, using non-professional actors has long been a tool filmmakers have employed to add a note of authenticity to their work. And yet, with “East of Wall,” writer/director Kate Beecroft elevates this concept to greater heights, crafting a feature docu-fiction debut that is cinematically and narratively rich, but also takes care to reflect the deeper reality at the heart of its story.
The film stars newcomer Tabatha Zimiga as…Tabatha Zimiga. Joined by her real-life daughter Porshia and a cast made up mostly of the young, motley crew that’s found refuge on her South Dakota horse ranch, Tabatha is not exactly the Mother Goose type. She wears heavy makeup, has tattoos that run down her neck, and shaves half her head to replicate the look of warriors. At the auctions where she sells the horses that define both her spirit and her livelihood, she proves a commanding presence, with shoulders held back and her gaze steely and focused.
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At home, however, with the makeshift family that revolve around her, her shoulders fall forward, the weight of caring for others as she struggles to care for herself often too much to handle. Zimiga may be playing herself, but make no mistake, she’s also giving an incredibly delicate, nuanced performance that harkens to the work of 1970s American cinema icons like Gena Rowlands, Ellen Burstyn, and Karen Black.
While her exterior image may present as armor, as we come to know more about Tabatha and the grief she faces over her recently deceased husband, we realize it has more to do with the inner beauty she’s trying to get others to see than any particular wall being put up. In truth, one gets the feeling that if Tabatha’s arms could remain open at all times, they would be. Despite the pack of children already occupying every corner of her space and the lack of finances to support them all, she continues to make room for more, even trying to work within a legal system she knows is flawed in order to protect them. Meanwhile, she has one infant child of her own whose delayed speech only exacerbates her feelings of inadequacy and a teenager, Porshia, who she shares many similarities with, none of which provide any comfort.
Tabatha’s commitment to her self-portrayal may only be outmatched by her daughter Porshia’s, whose grief lies bare throughout “East of Wall.” Confused, rageful, and only balanced in the chaos, Porshia’s dialogue is often spoken in voiceover and reflects both the great shifts in the terrain which she inhabits and the interior suffering she’s working through. One would be justified in comparing Porshia to Linda Manz’s young narrator in Terrence Malick’s “Days of Heaven,” but this does little to fully capture the impact she makes as both an individual character mastering this wide open, yet stifling land and as a cipher for understanding the freedom Tabatha wishes she still had.
Offering further context for Tabatha’s state of mind is her mother Tracey, a dirt-covered, chain-smoking, moonshine-swilling sage played by none other than character actress Jennifer Ehle. The daughter of classically trained thespian Rosemary Harris and herself an alumnus of the Royal School of Speech and Drama in London — Beecroft’s alma mater as well — Ehle has become known as a portrayer of serious, put-together figures in films like “The King’s Speech” and “Zero Dark Thirty,” as well as miniseries like “Pride and Prejudice” (1995) and “The Looming Tower.” In “East of Wall” however, Ehle embraces her feral side, playing Tabatha’s mother with a raucous zeal that explodes off the screen, creating a character that offers both comic relief and tremendous emotional pathos.
The other well-known talent lending their star power to the film is Scoot McNairy, who plays a well-off Texas horse trainer looking to build new profit in the Badlands. McNairy’s tough, white, male energy contrasts greatly with the quiet pain and subtle pride Tabatha and Porshia exude, but is vital to understanding the conflicts these two face as women trying to prove themselves in what is presented to them as a man’s world. When McNairy’s Roy offers to buy the land their ranch sits on while still letting Tabatha and Porshia work the horses, instead of viewing this as a godsend, they’re both conflicted by what it would mean to put their faith into another man. Like them, Roy is grieving too after losing his daughter to suicide and, while his intentions may be good, his anger at the world does not go unnoticed. In one particularly grabbing scene that proves the importance of Ehle and McNairy’s involvement, Tracey confronts Roy about this, sharing some of her homemade brew as well imploring this kind stranger not to screw over her girls as others have before.
They’re all part of a community that lacks physical closeness and is beholden to the past, but trapped in the complications that present day puts upon them. Suicide is an epidemic, a symptom of a place that may seem expansive, but has actually become its own kind of prison. Jobs are relatively nonexistent and the ones that are available are prone to put your life at risk anyway. Using TikTok, Porshia and her mother have found a way to reach out beyond their boundaries, both to showcase their horses, but also to reinforce their own self-worth as human beings deserving of attention. But this small touch of modernity is not enough to make us forget how trapped they’ve become, not just by their lost-in-time locale, but by the tragedies it continues to breed.
Toward the latter half of the film, Tracey’s friends gather to celebrate her birthday, but instead of dancing around and having a good time, cutting cake and popping balloons, this group of middle-aged women who’ve been rode hard and put away wet offer their trauma to the flames of a campfire. Downing beers and Tracey’s special peach hooch, they exorcise themselves of their demons, including Tabatha, who finally opens about her husband’s violent suicide and how she was left to clean up the mess. As Porshia listens from the barn in hiding, watching through slots of wood panel as her mother’s tears pour forth, the pain Tabatha’s been carrying finally becomes visible to her in a way it wasn’t before. Though Tabatha is angry at Porshia for eavesdropping, in seeing each other for the first time in a long time — perhaps for the first time ever — they find a way forward.
In working with non-professional actors, filmmakers like the Safdies and Baker often want to exist within the chaos of these individuals, but Beecroft and DP Austin Shelton’s lens is far more nuanced. It offers grace and sensitivity. It captures beauty and turmoil, sometimes in the same frame. They want you to understand the environs of these characters as much as you understand their souls; Fractured and beaten, yet still making space for whoever needs it. Though “East of Wall” may seem reminiscent of Chloé Zhao’s “The Rider” and “Nomadland” or ’70s character pieces like Bob Rafelson’s “Five Easy Pieces” or Martin Scorsese’s “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” what Beecroft achieves exists in its own unique realm. It reminds us that no matter who you are, how isolated your world may seem, or how unworthy of being seen you may feel, your life is still deserving of the cinematic treatment.
Grade: A-
“East of Wall” premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.
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