I’m typically not a fan of period dramas. More often than not, they feel too buttoned-up, too emotionally distant to really land. But “On Swift Horses,” set in the dusty afterglow of 1950s America, took me by surprise. It’s slow and quiet, sure—but it’s also emotionally layered, well acted, and laced with just enough tension to keep you hanging on for the two hour ride.

Directed by Daniel Minahan, “On Swift Horses” follows Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones), a young woman who’s just married Lee (Will Poulter), a steady but emotionally closed-off man. Things begin to unravel—or maybe just get more honest—when Lee’s younger brother Julius (Jacob Elordi) arrives. He’s charming, unpredictable, and clearly carrying his own emotional baggage. What starts out feeling like the setup for a love triangle evolves into something much more nuanced: a story about desire, self-discovery, and the quiet rebellion of choosing your own path.

Edgar-Jones is fantastic as Muriel. She brings subtlety to the role, with every shift in her emotional journey quietly felt. From dutiful wife to a woman taking risks (including a secret dive into horse race betting), her transformation unfolds slowly but with real payoff. Poulter, meanwhile, plays Lee with quiet conviction, grounding the story in a kind of fading postwar masculinity.

Jacob Elordi, as Julius, adds a mercurial energy to the film. He’s charming and unpredictable and once again proves that he’s a compelling screen presence. His vulnerability peeks through the swagger, and his journey ends up being just as compelling as Muriel’s.

Catalyst for transformation

The supporting cast, although underwritten at times, adds meaningful texture. Diego Calva’s Henry brings a warmth and curiosity that challenges Julius to look inward, while Sasha Calle’s Sandra gives Muriel a sharper, more modern reflection of the woman she could be. Both feel like more than side characters—they’re catalysts—pushing the protagonists toward self-examination and, ultimately, transformation.

“On Swift Horses” treats love as the ultimate gamble—a metaphor that makes sense given Muriel’s secret foray into horse race betting. The risks taken by each character, whether emotional, romantic, or moral, underscore the film’s central tension: how far are we willing to go for a chance at something more?

In the end, “on Swift Horses” offers a note of fragile hope. The characters emerge changed—some wounded, some liberated, all transformed. While the film doesn’t redefine the genre, it offers a deeply felt portrait of three people learning, in their own quiet ways, to bet on themselves.