Kelly Reichardt has always been a filmmaker of quiet films with quiet realizations, but one I’ve always gotten so much from. Her incredibly down-to-earth style always feels so cognizant of the human condition and the way that everyday people behave and go about their daily lives. She can glean so much meaning and impact from the most unglamorous of scenarios, and it’s always impacting to watch. Whether it’s the relationship between a lonely woman and her dog in Wendy and Lucy, the interlacing lives of four women in a sleepy midwestern town in Certain Women, or the bond between two men formed after they start a baking business with a stolen cow in First Cow, the dynamics in each of Reichardt’s films manage to be understated and yet wonderfully evocative. Reichardt’s latest outing, Showing Up, is a characteristically stripped back, honest, and quietly affecting ode to struggling artists in the modern age, depicting how they grapple with their lives and work in a tumultuous industry.

Showing Up stars Reichardt regular Michelle Williams fresh off her Oscar-nominated turn in The Fabelmans, Hong Chau fresh off her Oscar-nominated turn in The Whale, Judd Hirsch off his Oscar-nominated turn also in The Fabelmans, and previous collaborator John Magaro hopefully on the heels of his Oscar-nominated turn in Past Lives. Needless to say, the cast is deceptively stacked to the brim with the who’s who of indie talent. That being said, this really is the Michelle Williams show, and what a show it is. Williams is undoubtedly a woman of ample talent, but I’ve always liked her best in the hands of Reichardt. From Wendy and Lucy to Certain Women and now this, it’s clear that Reichardt brings out the absolute best in Williams. She does so much with Reichardt’s naturalist and understated writing, never playing it up but also never losing sight of the subtle emotion of the material. Though the bar is high, Showing Up might just be her best work with Reichardt yet. Williams is quietly captivating as Lizzy, an artist with an affinity for pottery rushing to meet the deadline of her upcoming show, struggling to afford rent, and having to deal with all the drama of her friends, family, and colleagues. It’s incredibly unglamorous and mundane, but that’s the beauty of it. These are the daily struggles that we all have to deal with. They may seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, but they nonetheless are our lives, and there’s a quiet valor to overcoming these small-scale daily adversities. 

Another standout is Hong Chau, who gives my favorite supporting actress performance of the year so far. Chau is a woman of impeccable ability and quiet power, but she’s been rather allergic to making a good film as of late (outside the rather vapid but very entertaining The Menu, of which she is, as usual, a highlight). In spite of Chau’s notable talents, The Whale was my arch nemesis of the previous awards season. Thankfully the tides have shifted, and Chau has found herself in one of the very best films of the year (two if you count her cameo in the layered Asteroid City!). Chau is charismatic, funny, and a much-needed foil to the serious and somber Lizzy as Jo. However, her performance is certainly not without her complexities. As Lizzy’s friend, colleague, and landlady, their relationship definitely gets murky and complicated as the film progresses. But once again, Chau plays these many sides to her character perfectly. The layers feel natural, intertwined, and never overdone. Tasteful restraint really is the name of the game with this film. Magaro is also a relatively unsung hero of this film. His screen time is sparse, but his impact is memorable as Lizzy’s struggling but supportive brother. As someone who’s experienced how mental illness in one person can affect an entire family, I really respect and admire how Reichardt went about representing this. The difficulties are tangible and significant, and yet life goes on and adapts. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s one of the most refreshingly down-to-earth and authentic representations of mental illness’s impact on daily life that I’ve ever seen.

The soft and soulful direction, the empathetic writing, and the understated yet entrancing performances coalesce to create another home run from Reichardt. As far as I’m concerned, she’s never come close to making a mediocre film, let alone a bad one. The thematic takeaways of this film really are truly beautiful and some of her most empathetic and profound. It’s a touching ode to all of the struggling artists out there. It stirringly recognizes those who barely make ends meet and have to grapple with the gravity of their own lives, depicts how their circumstances affect and inform their art, and explains why they persevere regardless. The struggle of human expression in the face of adversity is, I think, a nearly universal one, and that’s what this film is about. Art is beautiful, moving, reflective of our own existence, and yet also imperfect, stressful, and a burden at times. Countless days and sleepless nights are poured into your craft, all for a vision that you can only hope someone else resonates with. This film poses countless questions regarding the nature of art and how it relates to the artist that have lingered in my mind weeks after I finished it. When something in your art doesn’t turn out how you envisioned, do you wallow at your failures, or try to pass it off as intentional? What are the implications of that? Is art an honest and unfiltered representation of the soul? Or is it an imperfect material thing meant to somewhat resemble how we feel? How do we grapple with the idealism and purity of artistic expression versus the real world imperfections and “dirtiness” of it? Maybe it’s all just part of the beautiful process, and we should resign ourselves to it. Perhaps imperfect humans spawn imperfect art? And how can we even judge art to begin with? What even is the point of this review? Oh dear, I’m being thematically hypocritical as we speak!

Before I talk myself down the paradoxical rabbit hole of art vs. the artist vs. the interpretation and critique of art vs. the real world imperfections of the artistic process vs. the real world that informs it to begin with, let’s just put on the brakes and agree this is a wonderful and quietly profound film that comments on the mundanity of the artistic process with incredibly admirable nuance and honesty. The film is a resounding ode to artists and their work in all its messy, imperfect glory brought brilliantly to life with Reichardt’s characteristically soft touch and the talents of impeccable cast. If I were forced to make a judgment call this instant, I might admit that this is my least favorite Reichardt work I’ve seen thus far, but that’s not saying much at all because I LOVED every minute of this. Art really might not be nearly as ceremonious as we like to think it is, and maybe we should all take our opinions a little less seriously, but that’s really the beauty of it all. And I can’t believe it took me an entire review to notice this, but, wow, this would make for an excellent double feature with Asteroid City.

9/10