Genre Documentary

American Folk (2017)

Item: American Folk
Rating: 3.0
Author: Ross McLaren

★★★ — American Folk (2017)

American Folk (2017) is a short documentary from American filmmaker Matthew Lax, running to just fifteen minutes. In that compact runtime, it attempts something fairly ambitious: threading together three distinct strands of material, namely behind-the-scenes casting footage, the world of unattributed Dutch master paintings, and the social and cultural history of denim, in order to ask some pointed questions about authenticity, value, and the stories we tell ourselves about where things come from. It is the kind of work that sits comfortably in the essay-film tradition, more interested in provoking thought than in arriving at tidy conclusions, and it wears its influences quietly rather than announcing them.

The film features Blaine O'Neill, Nana Makharashvili, Gabriel Cowger, and Lax himself among its cast, which gives it a self-reflexive, almost collaborative quality. Lax, who also directs, clearly has a personal investment in the material, and that closeness to the subject can be felt in the way the film moves between its three threads, finding unexpected connections between labour, aesthetics, and class that might not be obvious on the surface. Documentary shorts like this one rarely get the attention of their feature-length cousins (see also the other short-form work in the documentary space, such as the films reviewed here at Nom Tèw and Candomblé in Togo), but they can carry a considerable amount of weight when the ideas are sharp enough to sustain the format. Whether American Folk manages that trick is very much a matter of what the viewer brings to it.

The questions it circles around are ones that have occupied artists, critics, and collectors for a long time: what makes something genuine, who gets to decide, and how much of what we call culture is shaped by economics and exploitation rather than pure creative impulse? Denim alone carries enough social history to fill a feature documentary, and Dutch master attributions have fuelled arguments in auction houses and art institutions for centuries. Lax is working with rich material, and the casting tapes add a more immediate, uncomfortable dimension, placing the viewer in the awkward position of watching people perform authenticity for a camera. As a companion piece to other thought-provoking non-fiction from the same era, such as Lost Boy in Juba (also from 2017) and Next Goal Wins, it demonstrates that documentary filmmakers of the 2010s were increasingly drawn to questions of identity and representation, even when the canvases were very different.

American Folk (2017) is a quiet, intimate film built on the strengths of its music, and for fans of Joe Purdy and Amber Rubarth, that’s a major win. Both are phenomenal singer-songwriters, and their performances here (both as actors and musicians) are far more natural and affecting than you’d expect from first-time leads. There’s a real tenderness between them as two strangers forced to share a car ride across the country in the eerie stillness following 9/11. Their conversations feel honest, understated, and grounded, and the acoustic soundtrack woven throughout is absolutely beautiful. Haunting melodies that capture grief, uncertainty, and fragile connection. The film has a gentle, almost documentary-like rhythm, with long drives, roadside diners, and spontaneous campfire songs that feel lived-in and real. You can tell it comes from a place of authenticity, both musically and emotionally. But the framing device (the reason they’re not flying due to post-9/11 airspace closure) feels oddly unnecessary. It adds context, yes, but also weighs down what could’ve been a simpler, more universal story: a chance encounter, a shared journey, a growing bond. Instead, the 9/11 backdrop looms without being fully explored, making it feel more like a plot contrivance than a meaningful anchor. The film never quite decides if it’s about healing from national trauma or just two people finding solace in each other. Elevated entirely by its music and the genuine chemistry between two brilliant artists stepping into acting. Not a great film, but a moving experience for fans of folk music and quiet road trip stories. I wish it had trusted itself to be just that (a romantic, musical journey) without needing an event to justify it. Still, worth watching for the songs alone.

I think that tension between ambition and execution is something I kept coming back to while watching. There is clearly a sharp and curious mind at work here, and the connections Lax draws between his three subjects are genuinely interesting when they land. But fifteen minutes is both a gift and a constraint: enough time to raise the questions, not always enough to let them breathe. For me, the most enduring thing about American Folk is that it leaves you with more to think about than it resolves, which is either a strength or a limitation depending on your patience for that kind of open-endedness. A polished but unremarkable short that punches above its weight in places, and well below it in others. Sometimes that's enough.

Rating: ★★★ | Year: 2017 | Watched: 2025-10-08

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