Tribeca Review: Ponderosa Offers a Mysterious and Humorous Perspective on America’s National Myths

      Family and a sense of belonging form the foundation of society on a mythical level, with their symbolic significance easily integrated into ideologies that divide the world into binaries—“us” versus “them,” “familiar” versus “foreign,” “left” versus “right.” While these remnants of a bygone purity persist in our collective imagination, filmmaker Rob Rice gives them new expression. Originating from Massachusetts, the LA-based writer-director made his debut with Way Out Ahead of Us in 2022, underscoring his commitment to cinema as a means of community and communion—a platform for authenticity and seemingly indirect action. In that hybrid film, a real married couple confronts the realities of mortality and the hypothetical autonomy of a fictional daughter; its follow-up, Ponderosa, which premiered at Tribeca, presents a more straightforward work of fiction.

      Ponderosa, like the “Old West”-themed restaurant chain it takes its name from, exists in a space between the past and the present, grappling with aspirations for a better future. Zeke (Jack Dylan Grazer), the protagonist, embodies the spirit of an “old soul” in his early 20s—characterized by messy hair and a wise, empathetic demeanor, likely resulting from being an only child raised by a single parent. His mother Sandra (Alexis Bledel, in a surprising role) works at a Ponderosa buffet but is enveloped in a sense of melancholy. She moves gracefully rather than walking and speaks sparingly. When she does, the warmth of her deep-blue eyes feels like a comforting embrace. The dynamic of the mother-son duo carries strong symbolism, yet the film never portrays it as lacking any vital component—whether that is a father figure, financial security, or extended family. You might wonder what Zeke and Sandra mean to each other. They are sufficient.

      Enter heteropatriarchy, which disrupts their fragile stability through the character of George (Bill Camp, both endearing and intimidating), who arrives just as the Ponderosa location prepares to close. Driven by an irrational and inexplicable urge to take on a paternal role (symbolically, yet fully) for Zeke, George emerges as a misguided antagonist—symbolizing capitalist inequality as a middle-aged single man who has built his wealth on poorly constructed homes. A stark lack of self-awareness defines Camp’s menacing character, an aging white man grappling with his legacy. Moreover, he spends his weekends with a group of like-minded men, nurturing a “fathering” complex centered on nationalism. We’ve encountered variations of this subplot where toxic masculinity is ideologically employed, but never with the humorous stoicism that Zeke embodies—much like Bartleby, he simply prefers to abstain.

      With Ponderosa, Rice addresses America’s national myths in a more stylized manner, utilizing uncanny aesthetics, unexpected low angles, and comedic wide shots captured by cinematographer Barton Cortright (The Cathedral) and arranged in poetically awkward (yet intentionally sharp) sequences by editor Mina Fitzpatrick. The contrast between the familiar—such as the tone of a dramatic thriller, the soaring score, tense male confrontations, and the soft features of Alexis Bledel’s well-recognized face—and what feels entirely alien fuels a mythical narrative: everything and nothing is concurrently possible. Labeling Ponderosa as a strange film doesn’t fully capture its essence. Its enigmatic quality serves less as a puzzle and more as an invitation to reimagine societal structures—not necessarily in radically different terms but through introspection and a refusal to conform, even amid pervasive loneliness. One of the film's most poignant aspects—and there are many!—is the ability to share this loneliness without succumbing to it. “Just keep pushing,” Sandra tells a despondent George, with a hint of irony that could topple a kingdom. Her seemingly simple (and somewhat foreboding) advice isn’t meant for definitive application: the future belongs to those who soften their hearts to endure.

      Ponderosa premiered at the 2026 Tribeca Festival.