In the era of hyper-partisan documentaries – which often reinforce liberal or conservative worldviews and play to an increasingly rabid base – Matthew Palmer’s compact “This Land” stands out as an anomaly. Prioritizing people over politics, Palmer’s film traverses 42 states on election day 2020 and follows a cross-section of Democrats and Republicans as they vote and patiently wait to see if Donald Trump or Joe Biden will be elected president. Little do they know how long the election will be dragged out. With the distance of 2022 — two years that paradoxically feels like a hundred and five minutes at the same time — “This Land” is a mostly engrossing snapshot of election day, even if it feels like it lacks a specific point of view.
Perhaps the closest comparison would be Kevin MacDonald’s “Life in a Day” series, which was less interested in following narratives than providing snapshots of individual moments. Palmer and his team of filmmakers move rapidly across the United States, following Trump and Biden supporters alike. We see an interracial gay couple on opposing ends of the political spectrum. A religious Republican trying to decide whom to vote for, even though his Mexican wife was deported under the Trump administration. An older Indigenous man who finds both candidates equally terrible. A younger progressive woman who believes the government doesn’t care about her, and even an older Trump supporter who fears violence if Biden wins — a heavily ironic line, in hindsight.
In all, there’s a lingering sense of despair; no matter who wins the election, things aren’t going to change. In the background of these scenes, we hear Hannity and Maddow’s voices, Fox News and MSNBC playing concurrently on TVs as people go about their day. For such a short documentary (68 minutes), Palmer gives us a glimpse into the wide range of experiences across the United States, juxtaposing coastal liberals against midwestern conservatives while also upending many of these stereotypes. The apparent contradictions — a gun-loving liberal, an openly gay conservative — are the most interesting. But, we only see fragments of these people’s lives, moving on just as quickly to some other pocket of America.
There’s an unmistakable feeling that “This Land” is underrealized, perhaps even unfinished. Palmer has previously spoken about his initial plans to follow a smaller group of individuals for a more extended period before the pandemic forced him to change his shooting schedule. The lingering sense that the film’s overall design was abandoned hovers over much of its runtime, as we often move too rapidly from subject to subject, place to place. However, even with this rough quality, the subjects themselves shine through. As night comes on and everyone waits for the results to start, we retreat into their living rooms and listen to people hope their preferred candidate might win.
“This Land” often feels like a simplified (but not unwelcome) plea for sentimentality— its observational approach essentially diffuses any political reading. It’s odd to watch a film so invested in the rhythms of politics that is also strangely apolitical. Instead, “This Land” foregrounds the people, more interested in how political beliefs manifest in apparel, viewing habits, and even conversations with friends. It’s a pleasing watch that elicits some interest, albeit one that feels a bit inconsequential. [C+]
