A poet of the pissiness that can exist between male friends, writer-director Martin McDonagh (In Bruges, The Banshees of Inisherin) pairs John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell in Wild Horse Nine. Playing CIA operatives who take a break from destabilizing democracy in 1973 Chile to spend a few days amongst the “big heads” of Easter Island, they make a tart comic duo. Malkovich’s Chris spews political incorrectness and high-level state secrets wherever he goes (his monologue connecting democracy, queerness, and the quality of a nation’s cheese is a head-shaking highlight), while Rockwell’s Lee responds with mouth agape in an impressive variety of ways. (Was Rockwell’s audition simply a series of reaction shots?) We soon learn of the emotional thread that bonds them beyond their spycraft, which allows McDonagh—while taking aim at U.S. foreign policy, both now and then—to plumb his usual questions involving sin, guilt, confession, and redemption. (Chris being a devout Catholic, this struck me as the most Graham Greene-inflected of his films, although there’s a bit of Elaine May’s Mikey and Nicky as well.) With Steve Buscemi as the pair’s pallid supervisor, some heavy symbolism involving the horses of the title, and copious gunshots to the head.
(11/4/2026)
