Made in 2015, Chloé Zhao’s debut is clearly cut from the same cloth as both The Rider and Nomadland, if not quite such a tight fit. Songs My Brothers Taught Me is a slow-moving portrait of a Dakota reservation that, like Zhao’s subsequent work, is told through a sublime mixture of non-fiction naturalism (the cast are all non-professional) and poetic lyricism. If it lacks the gripping qualities of the later works (especially Nomadland), it offers fantastic moments and eye-catching craft, and gives a rare authentic, empathetic insight into an under-represented community.
If Nomadland is a road trip across America, Songs My Brothers Taught Me is about characters resolutely stuck in one place. The heart of the story is the touchingly rendered relationship between high school senior Johnny (John Reddy) and his 12-year-old sister Jashaun (Jashaun St. John). Their bond is threatened when Johnny plans to leave for California with his girlfriend Aurelia (Taysha Fuller), who is going to college in Los Angeles.
Zhao spent four years living on the reservation before shooting a frame, and that level of immersion courses through every frame.
Around this plot core, Zhao (pronounced ‘Jow’) weaves slices of reservation life (or ‘Rezz Life’ as seen on a hand-made T-shirt) such as Johnny’s misadventures selling illegal homemade booze, and Jashaun’s relationship with an unhinged tattooist (Travis Lone Hill), then connecting with her half-brother (Kevin Hunter) at a rodeo. The director spent four years living on the reservation before shooting a frame, and that level of research and immersion courses through every frame. There are glimpses of school life (students discuss their future plans while handling snakes and spiders), a funeral and Native American song and dance ceremonies that all add realism and texture but do little to advance the story.
It’s not that Songs doesn’t have incident — there are sex scenes, fight fights, rodeos and an exploding car — it’s just that Zhao doesn’t afford them narrative agency or any more weight than the smaller, slice-of-life moments. It’s a sophisticated, human approach, the performances by Reddy and (a very winning) St. John adding to the seemingly unscripted feel (although Johnny’s voiceover irks). Now a Zhao regular, cinematographer Joshua James Richards finds images of melancholy and solitude, be they in intimate spaces or the wide vistas of the Dakota Badlands. It’s rougher round the edges and less compelling than the films that followed, but it has moments of sad beauty, and offers a fascinating first taste of a voice to be cherished.