The Long Quiet

The bond between horse and rider is one as old as human civilisation, and whilst we all like to imagine we could tap into it in our most traditionally masculine of fantasies, the closest most of us come will be an all-night session on Red Dead 2. The solo journey of Hugh McDermott across Argentina on horseback is the subject of The Long Quiet – but it is anything but traditional.

McDermott’s life led him from rural Ireland to the mountains of Argentina, where he embarks on a 2- year horseback journey of self-discovery on which he confronts his past and the person he is to become. He reflects on his connection with horses through his life (including his current companion Pancho), childhood neglect, sexuality and masculinity, as the journey becomes more than one of endurance – but of formation.

The Long Quiet is more character-piece than documentary. It is a spiritual deconstruction of a man most viewers will likely be unfamiliar with – but who by the end those same viewers will know as intimately as a friend in their own life. Hugh McDermott’s life is retold by those closest to him, who recount their own connections, events in his past and their own explanations for his contradictions and motivations – as Hugh himself retells the viewer of his own perspective through narration. The journey across the mountains of Argentina itself fades in an out of events – bolstering the real story about what makes the man.

McDermott never shies from the intimate details – from the traumatic to the romantic – leaving everything on the table for those engaged with his story. His self-discovery and perspective on life’s real meanings mean that the story becomes as personal for the viewer as the subject, and forces one to look inwards at their own history. The titular ‘long quiet’ is described in the film as the long moments on horseback when the world fades away and the sensation of being carried becomes ethereal. In some sense, the film is a brilliant recreation of this sensation in visual form. This can lead to zoning in some moments and one may find themselves losing thread of the narrative, but as a sensation it forms part of an experience.

Throw in atmospheric vista shots of the landscapes that capture the essence of the remote, and the film settles as truly spiritual at its best. It is undeniable a slow experience, and viewers ought to watch in an environment in which they are willing and able to give respect to its pace in order to get the most out of the feature. There are also times in which this becomes glacial, and revelations that seem self-explanatory have to be dragged out of the story, becoming repetitive at times. Yet for those looking and willing to immerse, they will find a nakedly human (and, I guess, equine) story of discovery. The Long Quiet is long, and it is quiet. But sometimes in those long quiets are echoes. And this one will echo with viewers for some time.