Showing Up
Directed by Kelly Reichardt
Written by Kelly Reichardt and Jonathan Raymond
Starring Michelle Williams, Hong Chau, Maryann Plunkett
Runtime: 1 hour 48 minutes
In theaters currently, expanding April 21

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, Red Herring

Kelly Reichardt is one of our most vital American filmmakers working today. Through her character studies, she explores the mindset of Americans both in the past (Meek’s Cutoff, First Cow) and the present. While mostly centered on white people in Oregon, the questions and concerns she engages with in her work speak to the broader American mindset, often through characters being challenged by systemic inequity, allegory, or other allusions. Meek’s Cutoff, for example, can be read as a deconstruction of the frontier and the gendered aspects of westward expansion. But it is equally about George W. Bush leading the country to invade Iraq. Reichardt’s work is often labeled as slow cinema, but it is rarely lyrical or abstract. Rather, she takes a small-scale approach to the stories she chooses to tell, which are often about people on the fringe, or those who feel alienated for one reason or another. 

Showing Up is the director’s fourth collaboration with Michelle Williams, and her sixth with novelist Jonathan Raymond, and demonstrates the kind of confidence that results from continued collaboration (as a trio, they have worked on Wendy and Lucy, Meek’s Cutoff, and Certain Women previously). While some of Reichardt’s previous films might be called deliberate, there is an unhurriedness to Showing Up, with this team knowing they will arrive at their destination exactly when they need to, no earlier and no later. The way that Reichardt and Raymond construct characters is the perfect version of ‘show, don’t tell,’ and the quiet and reflective pacing allows the viewer to pick up on details, reflect on behavior, and make connections. 

Lizzy (Michelle Williams) works at the Oregon College of Art and Craft, manning a desk and working for her mom, Jean (Maryann Plunkett), while pursuing her own art in the form of ceramic sculptures of women. Her landlord, Jo (Hong Chau) is also an artist working out of the College, and the two are mirror opposites. “She’s got it all figured out,” Lizzy says of Jo. The two women are on good terms, but they show their concern for the world around them in different ways, most clearly represented by the lack of hot water in Lizzy’s apartment and a pigeon that is found with a broken wing. 

One important thing about Showing Up is that Lizzy seems happy with her life. Like anyone, she has her frustrations, but overall she is comfortable with her status quo. She works, she observes the other students and artists at the college, and she does her best to keep in touch with her father (Judd Hirsch) and brother (John Magaro), keeping her family connected. But seemingly unlike her father, brother, and Jo, Lizzy worries. Most of the people around her, including Eric (André Benjamin), the teacher running the kiln at the College, and the artists and students around her, Lizzy is almost constantly occupied with some concern or another. Is the pigeon warm enough? Is her brother (who clearly has some sort of behavioral health condition) doing okay on his own? Are her father’s friends (Amanda Plummer and Matt Malloy) taking advantage of his loneliness? Is there too much cheese or too little cheese at this gallery show opening?

That quiet anxiety that slowly gnaws at a person while everyone else seemingly moves through life, twirling and carefree like those in the College’s picturesque meadow. There’s a twinge of jealousy about Jo’s landlord status allowing her to work on her art full time, or Lizzy’s father’s ability to not be suspicious of his drop-in guests. Unlike either of her parents or Jo, Lizzy seems introverted, quiet until pushed to say something important, and all of her interactions support this. She can be angry at Jo in a voicemail, but it’s so much harder expressing her frustration at wanting to take a shower in her home to her face. 

All of this comes alive in Michelle Williams’ performance. Lizzy’s introvertedness could make her a difficult protagonist, but Reichardt and Williams’ attention to detail, as seen in her choice of car, the way her studio looks, the clothes she wears, and the subtle performance of Williams make her feel like a real person. At times she floats through the school, as neither a student nor artist in residence she is part of the community but separate from it. The only time she seems relaxed is when she is working on her art, when her posture relaxes and she can focus on the task at hand. It’s a very different approach than Williams took in The Fabelmans. While her character there seemed completely lost and unmoored, Lizzy never feels as flighty. From her baggy clothes to the way she almost silently moves through a space, it is apparent that Lizzy chooses not to draw attention to herself. 

While it would be easy to make a satire about Portland artists and students, or at the very least, sort them into readily recognizable archetypes, Reichardt pushes back on this expectation. While some of the works showcased may seem unremarkable, there is no derision of art here. Showing Up celebrates creation for its own end. While the looming gallery show creates urgency within Lizzy, she isn’t schmoozing or networking to try to climb the ladder of the art world, but prefers to let her work speak for itself. If there is any kind of satire at play, it is gentle and loving. These artists aren’t shown as outcasts for making things and being expressive, nor are they chastised for not being able to earn a living doing it. Capitalism tells us that anything worth doing can be assigned monetary value. But no one in this film is trying to sell their art. They are merely making it and wanting to share it with the world.

One of the things that makes Kelly Reichardt such a wonderful filmmaker is that her stories allow room for us to find ourselves in them. There is so much specificity in her depictions of her characters and their lives, but a universality in their emotions. Of course this reminded me of MovieJawn. I was touched by how many people came to see Lizzy’s show in this movie. It doesn’t matter if they appreciate her work or not, but just by being there, by Showing Up (sorry), they are giving her their support. They validate that her passion has meaning, and that they are worth sharing it with, even if it doesn’t lead to being a full-time artist. MovieJawn never makes a profit, and probably never will. But for some of us, if we didn’t find a way to express ourselves (via a love of cinema), we’d wither and die. When I stay up late or spend my non-working time editing, formatting, or writing, it is an act of love. Not just love of my own words, but of everyone’s here. There are plenty of other places that churn out nonsense or rush to post the latest casting rumor or “89 easter eggs in this week’s episode of Succession.” That’s not MovieJawn. Showing Up is by far my favorite film of the year so far, a deeply moving and personally validating experience.

All humans are creative. Sometimes we forget that and we put artists on a pedestal, only so we can tear them down again if their art doesn’t speak to us. Above all, Showing Up celebrates normalizing making art. Whether making movies, music, writing, painting, baking, cooking, sculpting, dancing, or any other kind of creation (including the wonderful animatronic pigeon created for this film), that kind of expression exists in all of us. Having to work to scrape out an existence, the feeling like we are constantly competing with each other for time, attention and space. Just make it and share it with your community. The meaning is in the making, not the end product.