National Anthem

The film’s tenderness is borne from its tactility, an emphasis on the physical touch that connects characters.

National Anthem is at its openhearted, poetically inclined best when observing an alternate vision of the American West that’s no less possible for being radical.

A tender and uncomplicated tale about a young man feeling through his sexuality after a troupe of queer ranchers take him under their wing.

"National Anthem" is tender and sweet, and it expresses all of these things in its visual language, allowing these sensations to be present without speaking them out loud.

Plummer’s performance, a marvel of the taciturn turned wide awake, sets him up as one of the great actors of his generation.

It’s not a grand landscape but a small portrait of wistfulness and wanting in the West, fluttering and touching.

Luke Gilford, here making his feature debut, is unable to overcome the shopworn trappings that weigh down this tale of self-discovery and the makeshift families that adopt us.

National Anthem is among the very best of [the year], a sublime, deeply-empathetic look at what it means to find yourself — and find your community — in a world that would rather you didn’t. Stunning stuff.

It’s not all sunshine and roses, but National Anthem knows that finding oneself and first love are often a thorny path that leaves an indelible mark on those who walk it.

Luke Gilford's National Anthem has all the beauty of a Cormac McCarthy novel, but the chronicle of queer rodeo performers plays into tired tropes.