Rating: R | Runtime: 97 minutes
Release Date: August 15th, 2025 (USA)
Studio: Sony Pictures Classics
Director(s): Kate Beecroft
Writer(s): Kate Beecroft

Welcome to the New West, old man.

The title has less to do with the film than its inspiration. East of Wall was the direction given to Kate Beecroft by another South Dakotan that moved the writer/director with stories of an often-ignored swath of America. Following those instructions would ultimately find Tabatha Zimiga and her three-thousand-acre horse ranch populated by young, fierce girls helping their matriarch (some by blood, others by spirit) break, train, ride, and sell the animals at auctions, rodeos, and even on TikTok. Beecroft spent three years embedded amongst them, listening, learning, and writing.

Who better to tell their story than the women themselves? Besides Jennifer Ehle as Tabatha’s mother Tracey and Scoot McNairy as Roy, the wealthy outsider offering them their dreams for the price of their freedom, everyone on-screen is a non-actor more or less playing a variation of their own lives. It’s a motley crew of children left behind by dead parents, incarcerated parents, and some parents who simply cannot afford (financially or emotionally) to be parents. And Tabatha takes them all in. She gives them purpose, structure, and love. They don’t work on the ranch for money. They do it for her.

The film opens on the one-year anniversary of Tabatha’s husband John’s death. The void his absence left remains with no signs of disappearing. She tries to keep things together and create a sense of normalcy, but how is that possible if she isn’t acting normal herself? Tabatha hasn’t gotten on a horse since his death. It might seem like a small thing, but everyone around her knows the pain that choice conjures in her. They feel it too—especially her eldest Porshia (Porshia Zimiga). She is now the de facto face of the ranch, winning rodeos and showcasing the horses at auction. She’s the one who catches Roy’s eye.

Because despite all the money and amenities, he’s too old school to maximize profits the way he knows Tabatha and Porshia could if given his resources and backing in this male-centric world. So, he offers to buy their land—property John left to his and Tabatha’s three-year-old son Stetson. They will still be able to live and work there, but they’d do it under his stewardship. It’s a no-brainer on paper considering they’ve had to sell too many horses well below their worth just to afford groceries for all the teens living with Tabatha and her new boyfriend Clay (Clay Pateneaude). But it’s not long before their abundant joy vanishes.

The narrative through line therefore hinges on this decision. Tabatha agrees to try the arrangement and see if it works for her. Roy presumes the money he’s correct in promising from the partnership will be all the proof he needs, but we know this isn’t a business for them. It’s their life. Their soul. As such, the journey towards deciding inevitably pushes them to the ends of their patience. Porshia discovering that her work now actually feels like work. Clay watching the fun born from loyalty to Tabatha washing away as Roy lets hubristic entitlement demand an unearned respect. Tabatha finally coming to terms with what the land means, what John meant, and who she is because of it.

East of Wall conjures the same authentic energy as Chloe Zhao’s breakthrough film The Rider. Yes, the acting is rough around the edges, but their naturalism summons a wealth of emotion that more than makes up for any lack of craft. McNairy helps a bit with that aspect courtesy of his character’s own tragic background, but Roy remains an interloper on that front too since he seeks to buy and own people just as much as he does land. Ehle is the real catalyst for the cast to dig deep and speak from their heart since Tracey is a woman who regrets her past, owns her faults, and embodies the vulnerability necessary to provide a safe space for the others to embrace theirs too.

The film is best when the script is its quietest. There’s a sequence where women from the area come to celebrate Tracey’s birthday by sharing tales of surviving abuse and living with the abuse they themselves doled out. The way Beecroft propels those emotions into augmenting a fictional reveal is impressive because we’ve been waiting a long time to finally discover what happened to John. By letting them prime us, those details hit harder than if they were dropped in somewhere else. And maybe his fate is real too. It’s surely not uncommon. Regardless of whether this specific John existed, many other “Johns” have.

That ambiguity is a great barometer of success for semi-autobiographical fictionalized cinema. An inability to differentiate between what’s real, inspired by reality, or a complete fabrication is a badge of honor. Give credit to Tabatha too because she’s the loom weaving truth and artifice together into a single bolt of cloth. We feel everything she’s feeling and invest in her journey to rediscover her identity so she can remember what it is these kids need from her. Because, as we learn from Roy, the stability wealth provides is often illusory. Familial love (biological or found) might not always be enough, but it is generally real.

---

Tabatha Zimiga as Tabatha in EAST OF WALL; courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.