‘Killing Faith’ Review: Guy Pearce Escorts a Freed Slave and Her Strange Child in Offbeat Genre Hybrid
Once ubiquitous in American theaters (and still quite healthy in Taylor Sheridan’s domain), big-screen Westerns are relatively scarce these days. When such tales do surface, however, they’re increasingly comingled with a genre that’s very much on the rise: horror. The latest such shotgun marriage, “Killing Faith,” is a somewhat murky and unsatisfying one. Still, its intriguing premise, able cast and bursts of violence hold attention even as writer-director Ned Crowley’s execution never quite realizes his concept’s potential. After a limited theatrical stint last month, Shout! Studios’ release is now available on demand.
An unspecified “great sickness” plagues the Arizona territory of 1849, felling humans and livestock alike. Apparently immune from it is a ranch inhabited by freed slave Sarah (DeWanda Wise) and her young daughter (Emily Ford, whose character is designated only as “The Girl”). They look nothing alike, a fact eventually explained by the intel that Sarah was deeded the place by her late owner-slash-domestic partner, a white settler. It was a relationship more coercive than mutually consenting, we gather. Nevertheless, now she’s a lone Black landholder determined to protect her property and angelic-looking blond offspring, with help from loyal, simpleminded farmhand Edward (Jack Alcott).
People in the town nearby keep their distance, though not (or at least not exclusively) for the bigoted reasons you might expect: They believe the approximately 7-year-old is a supernatural threat. It’s a notion duly supported when we see her instantly kill a horse simply by touching it. Desperate for a “cure,” Sarah decides the two of them must travel across the desolate prairie to see Preacher Ross (Bill Pullman), a reputed faith healer. But that route is full of peril, and no townie is willing to provide them an escort. Forced to volunteer for the job — once he’s officially exiled for recurrent dissolute behavior — is Doc Bender (Guy Pearce), who’s become an ether-addicted wreck following the deaths of his own wife and daughter. Unwilling to be left behind, addlebrained chatterbox Edward makes it a party of four.
The desert terrain they cross is hazardous. En route, they are accosted by bandits (Jamie Neumann, Keith Jardine) who steal their food, water and weapons; encounter a bizarre if seemingly friendly group of stranded wagon-train emigrants led by Joanna Cassidy; and briefly benefit from the survival expertise of an erudite Native American named Chief William Shakespeare (Raoul Max Trujillo). Most of these interactions end badly for someone, sometimes with the wee Girl’s lethal, otherworldly assistance — even though disbelieving Doc stubbornly insists her “power” can only lie in being a virulent carrier of “the sickness.” Nor do things greatly improve when the surviving protagonists reach their destination, with Preacher Ross proving more foe than friend.
It’s a darkly picaresque tale, mostly set outdoors, whose stark New Mexico landscapes are attractively captured by cinematographer Justin Hamilton. There’s a score by siblings Brooke and Will Blair that effectively straddles suspense and period flavor, while other design contributions evoke the times within limited means, aided by the story’s underpopulated nature.
But a queasy discussion between Doc and Preacher, regarding whether good and evil exist outside the realm of scientific rationalism, only further clouds what never quite comes into focus as a religious parable. Climactic bursts of avenging fire and bullets don’t have the full cathartic force intended when we’re not clear on what they’re avenging — not to mention why various events occur, or just who’s on the devil’s side here. Ambiguity can be effective to a point. “Killing Faith” travels past it, however, finally disappearing into narrative ether.
That eventual letdown might’ve been cushioned had Crowley created more potent atmospherics all along. But his second directorial feature (following another road tale, 2016’s more comedic “Middle Man”) lacks tension, as well as the palpable frisson of unseen threat that’s boosted occult-tinged westerns from the 1973 “Hex” through “Bone Tomahawk” a decade ago. The air of merciless, quasi-Biblical judgement pervading John Hillcoat’s “The Proposition,” the 2005 Australian Western in which Pearce also starred, seems called for here — yet “Faith” never approaches that level of dread, or dramatic intensity in general. It’s got interesting ideas, without the feverish conviction or style to punch them across.
In the end, it feels pedestrian despite an offbeat narrative gist, as well as the decent work by principal adult actors. Pearce as usual is more than up to his role’s physical and emotional demands, though he can’t singlehandedly provide this watchable-enough effort the thematic or emotional heft it reaches for. Supporting turns are a bit variable, with more asked from juvenile performers than they can deliver, and Alcott stuck providing a comedy relief that comes off as labored.
