Every so often, you’ll read or hear a statement about an actor or director along the lines of, “Honestly, I could just watch [Actor X] do [innocuous task] for two hours and be satisfied!” Well, if your “Actor X” has ever been Michelle Williams, and the innocuous task being performed was “ceramic sculpting while tending to a wounded pigeon,” then boy oh boy, does Kelly Reichardt have the film for you! Showing Up is so committed to its understated presentation—with stakes so low that you could open a hatch leading directly to the centre of the Earth—that it has left many viewers feeling cold and distant (and, if my bunkmate who attended the premiere is to be believed, walking out of the screening in droves). In truth, you’d be hard-pressed to find a film more pleasant in its desire to ostensibly accomplish very little.

In nearly every case, Reichardt finds the perfect subject matter through which to infuse her deliberately soothing voice, and Showing Up takes that voice to the appropriate realm of gallery art. It’s a world in which this free-flowing aura is nicked at the heels by a constant undercurrent of impending deadlines and lacking inspiration, but Reichardt chooses to underscore those stressful elements with the same relaxed tone as the more focused moments when an artist is in “their zone.”  

All this conflict-free, Jarmusch-adjacent tonal storytelling would be for naught had the performance carrying us through Showing Up been any other than that of Reichardt’s biggest blessing of a frequent collaborator, Michelle Williams. Williams’s irritable presence is nothing short of delightfully relatable, guiding us through her languid narrative with all the gung-ho enthusiasm of someone woken up one hour early from their daily four-hour nap. Where someone like Carey Mulligan would put so much visible effort into creating “tangible meaning” in this listless character, Williams simply finds what’s there and rolls with it effortlessly. Some of her lines would read as entirely nondescript were it not for the hoarse voice and slumped posture delivering them. Williams in Showing Up is essentially the human embodiment of “I hate Mondays,” and we as viewers are privileged to witness this alluring irritation.

Why Showing Up became Kelly Reichardt’s first film to compete for the Palme d’Or is something of a mystery, as it’s neither her most compelling narrative nor her most artistically audacious undertaking. But during her “Thank You” speech following the premiere, her generic statements about the “dark times we’re living in” and wishes for peace helped me put the odd choice of project into greater perspective. In a festival full of heavy-hitting dramas about child exploitation, subtly tragic tales of wistful kidnapping, and poor souls forced to wait 8 years for a new Cronenberg film only to wind up with Crimes of the Future, such a laidback film with a lighthearted sense of humour, which still treats its characters with respect, makes for a wonderful breath of fresh air. Showing Up was not only a refreshingly easygoing way to end the Cannes Film Festival, but will no doubt be, like Reichardt’s best work, the perfect opportunity for many others to recharge their batteries after a period of emotional or physical draining.  

2022 Ranked.

Reichardt Ranked.

A24 Ranked.

Cannes 2022.
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