Tony Tost’s western-crime thriller surprises with a love for the genre, quirky ensemble, and Native American lore that results for an uneven but fun time.

Tony Tost’s debut feature, Americana, is a dusty, blood-splattered neo western that wears its influences on its fringed flannel sleeve. Shot in early 2022 and premiering at SXSW 2023, the film unfolds in a sun-parched South Dakota setting (elegantly shot by Nigel Bluck) and blends the crime-riddled eccentricities of the Coen brothers with the nonlinear coolness of Quintin Tarantino. At its heart is a sacred Lakota “ghost shirt,” a real-life artifact once believed to have protected its wearer from bullets – here serving as both a MacGuffin and a thematic mirror for how the characters view, exploit, or honor Native American culture. Around this object orbits a rogue’s gallery of misfits that include: a stuttering waitress chasing a Nashville singing career, a love-deprived veteran, a boy who thinks he is the reincarnation of Sitting Bull (yes, that Sitting Bull), an unscrupulous dealer of looted Indigenous relics, and a militant Native American Activist group determined to reclaim what is theirs. 

Tost’s script darts between timelines and perspectives, opening with a brazen massacre at the home of a rather smug art collector who keeps the ghost shirt in a display case for his rich friends to gaze at. From there, the threads twist into a web of schemes. Lefty Ledbetter (Paul Walter Hauser) plays a lonely, brain-injured vet with a tendency to propose marriage after just a few dates. Ledbetter overhears a plan hatched by hired Killer Dillon (Eric Dane) and sleazy antiques dealer Roy Lee Dean (Simon Rex) to steal the shirt. Teaming up with Penny Jo (Sydney Sweeney), a shy diner waitress obsessed with Dolly Parton, Left embarks on his own parallel heist to bankroll her music career. Meanwhile, Dillon’s girlfriend Mandy (Halsey), trapped in a toxic relationship, navigates her own violent path toward freedom. Accompanying Mandy is her son, Cal (Gavin Maddox Bergman) whose scarily pop culture-warped view of Native Americans is just waiting to be popped. 

The film’s most electric moments however belong to the always great Zahn McClarnon as Ghost Eye, the leader of the revolutionary-minded Red Thunder Society. With pointed humor and his razor-sharp delivery, Ghost Eye dismantles Cal’s childlike naivety but heavily misguided claim to be Sitting Bull reincarnated, warning him that “…this ain’t exactly the golden age of cultural appropriation.” Through Ghost Eye and his comrades, Americana addresses Indigenous representation and historical exploitation without slipping into a full on sermon. This is a rather refreshing touch in a genre that far too often romanticizes or sidelines its own Native characters. Still, Tost’s engagement with these themes is secondary to his rubix’s cube scheming. 

Regarding the performances, the ensemble is solid across the board, although unevenly balanced. Hauser is the perfect level of awkwardness that surprisingly provides the film’s emotional core. Halsey was perhaps the biggest surprise with a strong amount of grit and screen presence that made her stand out as an actress in a beautiful way. Sweeney is great in the one dimensional role she has been given as a sweet, stuttering dreamer, but it is obvious that her character is pretty flat. 

Where the film falters is in the final third where the chaos that made the first half fun starts to be its downfall. Too much overlap makes it hard to follow and the pacing starts to drag here. Yet, even when all of this happens, Tost’s love for the genre and the amount of fun he seems to be having here shines through. The bullets flying everywhere, sarcastic humor, and oddball characters sprinkled throughout makes Americana a surprisingly entertaining western film with a lot of personality. Tost might still be finding his footing as a filmmaker, but this shows he has the talent to get there sooner than later. 

Rating: B-

Oscar Prospects:
Likely: None
Should be Considered: None

Where to Watch: In Select Theaters