With a patient grace that buoys its more emotionally devastating moments, director Kate Beercroft’sEast of Wallis a quietly immersive piece of docu-fiction that brims with vibrant authenticity. The film focuses on Tabatha and Porshia Zimiga — both bravely playing themselves, and both unafraid to lace their on-screen strength with open-hearted vulnerability — a mother-daughter duo who own a ranch on the wind-touched plains of South Dakota, where they make a living trading and selling horses. Their voices and bodies fill nearly every minute ofEast of Wall,which may raise concerns that this is a voyeuristic and impersonal project that falls into a trap that snares even the most well-meaning documentaries: Namely, that it’s more “about” a subject than coming “from” the subject.
East of Wall
Yet Beercroft, who spent three years living on the ranch with the Zimigas, displays a disarming humility. The film feels like a true collaboration between Beercroft and her real-life subjects, largely because of the patience with which Beercroft chooses to tell the story. It’s raw and honest in its depiction of tragedy and dysfunction, but it also gives its subjects dignity in how it showcases the more mundane, unsexy parts of their lives.East of Wallis not propelled by sensationalized trauma, although there’s plenty of hardship to go around. Instead, it’s driven by the earnest zeal of characters who are trying to pick up the broken pieces of their lives and start anew.
When we first meet Tabatha and Porshia, they’re reeling from an inconsolable family tragedy: Tabatha’s husband, John, has died by suicide, and Tabatha is struggling to make ends meet as she tries to keep up the family ranch. In addition to raising Portia and her three-year-old son, Tabatha takes in teenagers whose parents can’t care for them, usually as a result of death, incarceration or addiction. The wayward teenagers in the film also play themselves. It’s joyful to see this found family interact; they’re an eclectic bunch, but protect each other through thick and thin.
The Zimigas' rhythms are disrupted by the arrival of wealthy rancher Roy (Scott McNairy), who comes from Forth Worth, Texas with an offer to purchase their 3,000-acre farm with the option for Tabatha and her family to work for him. While Tabatha can’t bear to think of parting with the property and land, Roy’s offer seems more tantalizing the more her money problems increase. And so she has to reckon with the fact that her grief and sentimentality can’t come at the cost of the mouths she has to feed.
Unvarnished Authenticity
As the film explores the potential consequences of Tabatha’s decision, Beercroft and DP Austin Shelton frame the family in all of their shaggy, tenacious, and resilient glory. The exhilaration comes through the documentation, and there’s a light, unshowy touch that allows the personalities of the characters to shine. It’s a testament to the crew’s trust in the people whose stories they’re telling: Take the opening sequence, which sees Porshia riding a horse faster than Tabatha’s truck can keep up. While Shaboozey’s “Beverley Hills” blasts in the background, the camera cuts between Tabatha’s filmed vertical video of the moment and Shelton’s footage. Porshia’s abilities are the type that can’t be replicated, and need to be seen to be believed. And this act of presentation communicates more about her confidence and ingenuity than any talking-head interview could.
Another moment that underscores this authenticity is a sequence where Tabatha’s mother (played by Jennifer Elhe, one of the few Hollywood actors in the film) tells Tabatha, “all right, baby girl. Fuck off,” as their heart-to-heart conversation comes to an end. Even if one argued that the scene would be strengthened if it were with Tabatha’s actual mother, Elhe’s delivery embodies the type of tough-but-tender love that characterizes this family out in the badlands. The words may be harsh, but there’s a fierce affection that undergirds it all. It’s this type of dialogue that feels too loaded with personality to be faked.
Additionally, there’s a lived-in grittiness here that feels like an invitation, particularly in the way Beercroft and Shelton depict the Badlands itself. Unlike Chloé Zhao’sThe Rider, which shades its establishing shots with a Malickian sense of wonder, Beercroft and Shelton’s lenses are more down-to-earth. Where most films emphasize the vast and expansive landscapes, the Badlands inEast of Wallare characterized by shards of empty liquor bottles that threaten to cut even the toughest soles, rain water mixed with horse poop that kids frolic in to ignore their troubles, uneven soil that’s been trampled by pickups and horses, and embers that are still glowing from a previous night’s conversation. By focusing on these small details, Beercroft makes the Badlands feel truly real. And we’re able to experience them the way Tabatha and her family do.
Those who come toEast of Walllooking for clear heroes and villains will leave disappointed. Even with the drama that a character like Roy brings into the film, he’s not a typical Western villain who is driven solely by greed. Indeed, Beercroft’s film is filled with characters putting one foot in front of the other as they navigate a world beset with cruelty and tragedy. This is what makes Tabatha’s decision to care for a coterie of wayward teenagers so moving: In a world that’s building more borders and barricades, Tabatha’s hospitality stands in defiance of the logic of the world.East of Wallsucceeds by rising above voyeurism and presenting its characters in their unvarnished forms. It’s a rugged, poetic film that regards everyone within it with generosity and empathy.
East of Walldebuts in theaters on June 26, 2025 from Sony PIctures Classics.
