A rider, a force, a whirlwind.
A contendor.
In possession of very select skills applicable to one dangerous sport specifically, the wild lure of the bedlam, the thrill of each imprecise buck, exhilarating unpredictability loosely tamed and codified, potent threat Brady Blackburn (Brady Jandreau) deals with a formidable head wound, which cruelly jeopardizes his bright future, yet opens up worlds previously nailed shut.
Quietly withdraw?
Unwillingly walk away?
One more ride could kill him.
But what's life without one more ride?
The Rider sharply examines the mid-West's razor's edge.
People let people be to make there own decisions, and even if casual advice is offered, they remain their decisions to make, alone.
Respectfully so.
Carefully crafted tight scenes reservedly using every meaningful syllable to generate patient thought, the act of riding functioning like a release from the maturity, like a tumultuous counterbalance to the engrained composure, innocent, blunt, affected, and observant characters discuss life and their unique approach to living, gathered together in wide open terrain, soul searching without judgment or pretence.
Tough lives lived by tough people making tough decisions accepting harsh consequences.
Authority challenged with respect hence the challenge to authority is respected.
A decision to be made that's not like buying new jeans or signing a mortgage, one that calls into question Brady's raison d'ȇtre without presenting transformative solutions, less appealing responsibilities beckoning meanwhile, while troubling precedents set make known dire convictions.
The Rider rustles up existence without bearing its soul, friends and family supportive yet concerned, a rewarding way of life boldly tempting a gifted steed, while responsibility contends with resolve, and retirement dreams haunt and hustle.
There's nothing easy about this film, nothing fluffy, no lullabies.
Harbingers of mortality crushing the carefree.
As resilience reflects upon life.
Immersed in restrained adoration.
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