On Swift Horses—despite a meandering trajectory and slightly underbaked themes—is a touching tale of self-acceptance despite circumstances. Based on Shannon Pufahl’s 2019 novel, Swift follows a three-member family after the Korean War’s end: Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones), the loving wife of Lee (Will Poulter), who has just returned home in Kansas from Korea, and Lee’s younger brother Julius (Jacob Elordi), who also returns home to the married pair’s surprise. Lee dreams of a new life for them out in California, so he packs up his and Muriel’s lives to San Diego—without any concern for her needs and wants, of course—only for Julius to split for Las Vegas. Julius and Muriel become connected by Julius’s day-by-day mentality and lifestyle that Muriel also secretly agrees with, from fluid sexualities to a need for something beyond a white picket fence. On Swift Horses thus sees the main pair discover the true meaning of freedom and redefine their lives.

Loving oneself is not an easy feat. Regardless of sexuality or other individual quirks, to care for oneself in the fullest sense takes a lot of work. When part of that contradicts or conflicts with surrounding society—ideologically, spiritually, physically—it’s that much harder to accept yourself and do what you want, even if no one else experiences direct pain from your desires. Much of it has to do with luck, or so Swift says. Julius lives his entire life as if it’s one big game of such chance: “You see, the thing about poker is cards aren’t just cards. These right here are pieces of time,” an overconfident but suave, molassis-twang, Southern-accented Julius relents to a slightly attracted Muriel. Aside from his legitimate gambling obsession, which dictates where he works, those “pieces of time” outside the games reflect how he lives: he bets on the odds, no matter how small, and bails at the first sign of trouble. Going to Las Vegas on a whim, hopeful for a job opening somewhere, is merely one of the impulsive ideas Julius has. Meeting Muriel, due to her opposing nature, shows him the benefits of commitment and long-term stability.

Unlike Julius, Muriel sticks with Lee even as her life jettisons in a different direction than she wants because of him, as she knows no other life than that of the atomic American family. She even tries to convince herself of Lee’s dream: “… Lee says there’s something in the air here. A feeling. It’s true what they say about California; I mean, we both got jobs, just like that, can you believe it…? As if the odds are stacked in your favor,” she writes Julius early on. But that “feeling,” that “something in the air” has nothing to do with Lee’s dream: it’s the beginning of her self-discovery, partially reinforced by her connection to Julius in their (for her, hidden) commonalities in sexuality and desired lifestyles. Julius shows her how life can be when you’re not tied down so much, demonstrating how letting go of conventional restrictions could improve her happiness: “I think you see right through all of it. All the ‘s’posed tos,’” Julius admits. The “s’posed tos”—conventions, expectations, gender roles, etc.—are precisely what tie her down. Once she understands she can get away from them, she does—enter Sandra (Sasha Calle), a nearby produce worker who secretly lives for lesbian parties.

Thus, as the pair continues living largely separately, they evolve into similar versions of each other. As Julius finds love in his new partner in gambling crime, Henry (Diego Calva), he learns the importance of sticking it through the tough stuff; through exploring sexuality with Sandra and Julius’ free spirit, Muriel takes more chances at life—she even becomes something of a successful horse race gambler herself. They both learn to allow themselves the chance at newfound happiness, which can only be found through self-acceptance: “Everybody deserves a chance to be happy…. Everybody deserves a shot,” a wistful Julius eventually declares. Through years of rough and tumble that eventually even throws Muriel and Lee’s marriage out the window, she and Julius find what makes them content: being themselves, rather than being who others want them to be.

Unfortunately, Swift slumps beyond its strong performances, lovingly crafted sights and sounds, and core theme as discussed previously. Bits of more significant arguments around racism/sexism, human greed, and even individuality vs. community experience scatter themselves throughout, but they either get noticeable abandoned shortly after or forgotten; the filmmakers could have shaved 30 minutes to much sharper affect and subliminal impact; it’s entirely unclear how Lee and Muriel got together in the first place, as they seem inorganically incompatible from the start. Nevertheless, core messaging about staying true to oneself and bittersweet portrayals makes On Swift Horses a soft-edged look at ‘50s America and the country’s harmfully heteronormative standards. As these dangerous “traditions” rear their ugly heads again, On Swift Horses reminds us why progress is pertinent, even if progress (like the film) isn’t so swift in execution. For romance/drama fans, period piece fans, or fans of any of the star-studded cast, On Swift Horses could at least be a (dis)heartening time.

Opens Friday, 4/25 @ Coolidge Corner and other theaters