Chloe Zao’s highly acclaimed 2017 film, The Rider, opens in a dream—a dream of horses, a dream that expresses the latent fear of death that Ernest Becker says prowls our psyche. In the opening dream sequence, Zao uses close angle shots to place the viewer amidst a group of horses as well as to capture every movement and expression they have in response to the ominous roll of thunder. Shifting uneasily and sticking tight to one another, the horses are not in a wholesale state of panic; however, a strong undercurrent of anxiety is present. They sense and respond to a perceived threat to their being. This anxious mood lingers as the scene shifts and audiences meet the dreamer of the dream and protagonist of the film, injured rodeo rider, Brady Blackburn (Brady Jandreau).

Ripped from the dream, a dream where danger is implied but modulated by the golden hues and incontrovertible beauty of the horses, the viewer is cast into the harsh reality of Brady’s new normal. We see him as he wakes, our awareness dawning as we see the large surgical staples that crown his head. Seeing him pieced back together, we piece together that he is recuperating from a traumatic brain injury (TBI) incurred while rodeoing. We watch as he suffers nausea and dizziness, common symptoms of TBI, but more notably, the fact that his doctors have told him that he can no longer rodeo and should no longer ride.

Brady faces death in multiple forms. He has survived a potentially fatal accident. However, he also confronts the death of his professional career, and, as importantly, of his personal identity as a rodeo rider. The narrative follows him as he determines what to do.

The Rider relates to, and reflects, Becker’s seminal theory of death, a theory expressed lucidly in his bestseller, The Denial of Death (1973). It illustrates the ways in which the common denial of death can enable risk-taking behavior, how the encounter with death can change the individual, and how greater acceptance of death can actually empower a person. As Becker explains, the fear of death is ubiquitous and adaptive to the extent it reinforces our efforts at self-preservation. While an omnipresent factor in our psychological lives, death anxiety must be managed to prevent it from monopolizing consciousness and undermining the emotion’s adaptive function. From the time we are children, we are taught to repress thought about death, to redirect to other subjects, and to suppress death-related thought with activity. And of course, we lie. We construct and promote cultural narratives and religious ideologies that deny the reality of death and bolster our sense of ontological security and existential purpose. Clearly, Brady’s engagement in the high-risk sport of saddle bronc-riding is enabled by the denial of death that predominates in our culture.

The heroic figure embodies the lucidity and courage that we wish we could, but are not typically permitted to have, in the face of our finitude. In American culture, the cowboy figure frequently serves that purpose.

Interestingly, Brady’s passion for rodeo is related to the denial of death in another way, too. He engages in rodeo not just because he is indoctrinated to avoid thoughts of death, but also because of the cultural interest placed in the figure of the cowboy, including his potential for heroism. One of the characteristics of the cultural denial of death is the tendency to encourage “fascination [with people] who hol[d] or symboliz[e] power” (127), particularly those who possess the courage to face danger and thereby risk death. Indeed, Becker defines “heroism [as] first and foremost a reflex of the terror of death” (11). Heroism retains a high level of social currency because of the perennial risk of death of which we are always subliminally conscious and the fact our latent death-anxiety is regular piqued by reminders of death in our environment, such as the agonizing death of Brady’s beloved horse, Apollo.

Unfortunately, the pervasive denial of death that characterizes modern society deprives most individuals the opportunity to be consciously heroic themselves because conscious heroism presumes conscious awareness of death. However, culture serves us surrogates–individuals who we can celebrate for their courage and from whom we can derive vicarious satisfaction by identifying with them. The heroic figure embodies the lucidity and courage that we wish we could, but are not typically permitted to have, in the face of our finitude. In American culture, the cowboy figure frequently serves that purpose. As someone who “breaks” horses, Brady embodies the deep-seated desire to subjugate our animal nature and free ourselves of its constraints, including our mortality and the anxiety we have about it.

Not surprisingly, this method of managing death anxiety has a price. That cost is apparent in The Rider. Becker’s insights regarding the denial of death are evident in many aspects of the film. Through its portrayal of Brady’s injury and recovery, and also that of his injured friend, Lane, the film clearly illustrates the way in which the encounter with death can literally change a person. As such, it helps remind audiences of the fundamental fragility of their lives, the fact that death can come at any time, and that our individual health and security are not assured. In addition, through Brady’s ultimate decision to forego competitive rodeo, a decision anchored in his recognition that another accident could be life-ending, the narrative reveals the way in which formal acknowledgement of mortality can be a catalyst for more informed decision-making and productive personal growth. Interestingly, the film also illustrates the way in which cultural narratives, by discouraging thought about death and creating a cult of the hero, position individuals to undervalue personal risk and pursue heroic glory even when enduring risk is unnecessary.

…the narratives that pervade our culture position certain individuals to endure the risk of being heroes even when their heroism is a cultural palliative, and not existentially necessary.

One of the especially compelling things about The Rider is the fact it is based on the real-life story of Brady Jandreau, a member of the Lower Brule Sioux tribe, who lives on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Indeed, Brady plays himself in the film. As his story reveals, in this poverty-ridden area, rodeoing is one of the few ways to make a decent living. When Brady’s capacity to rodeo is compromised by his injury, he risks not only losing his celebrated identity as a rodeo star, but also access to a valuable source of income, one that keeps him, and his family, alive. It is arguable that Brady’s situation effectively illustrates the way in which the ontologically and economically insecure situation of certain individuals, coupled with factors such as social marginalization, can mitigate conventional death anxiety and make the pursuit of a dangerous ideal more compelling.

Hero narratives are part of the cultural fabric by which we manage our fear of death. We celebrate heroes not just for their real achievements, but also for what heroes represent: the power to face death. We need heroes because they are conceptual figures that sustain the cultural narrative through which death anxiety is managed. However, in order for this narrative to have legitimacy, we need actual individuals to be willing to risk death for the collective, and by suppressing and refashioning our thought about death, the narratives that pervade our culture position certain individuals to endure the risk of being heroes even when their heroism is a cultural palliative, and not existentially necessary.

While cowboys have historically needed to rope cattle and start horses, no one has ever needed to ride a bull, and the majority of the activities celebrated by modern rodeo are not required in commercial ranching. Rather than further reinforce the cult of the cowboy and the unnecessary risk placed on the rodeo cowboy, The Rider encourages critical awareness of the cost of this ideal. By revealing both the challenging situation that made rodeo the best option for Brady and the devastation that the role wrought on him, the film celebrates not the abstract figure of the bronc-breaking cowboy, but Brady, the sensitive and humane horse trainer, his individual resolve, his abiding love for his pale horse, and his mature decision to forego rodeo because of the risk to his life that it posed.