Annie Silverstein’s Bull didn’t arrive with a bang. It wasn't some blockbuster with a hundred-million-dollar marketing budget or a superhero in spandex. Instead, it sort of drifted into the cultural consciousness via the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes in 2019, carrying with it the heavy, humid air of a Texas backyard. If you haven't seen it, you’re missing out on one of the most grounded, painfully honest depictions of American life captured on film in the last decade. It’s a movie about a bullfighter and a teenage girl. But really, it’s about what happens when you’re stuck in a place that feels like it’s forgotten you exist.
The story centers on Kris, played by Amber Havard. She’s fourteen. She’s also a disaster waiting to happen. Her mom is in prison, she’s living with her grandmother, and she’s basically one bad decision away from following her mother's footsteps. Then there’s Abe, played by Rob Morgan. He’s an aging bullfighter—specifically a "bullfighter" in the rodeo sense, the guys who protect the riders—who is literally falling apart. His back is shot. He’s popping pills. He’s lonely. When Kris breaks into his house to throw a party, it starts a collision course that feels less like a Hollywood "mentor" movie and more like two drowning people grabbing onto the same piece of driftwood.
What People Get Wrong About the Bull 2019 Film
A lot of folks see the poster or the trailer and think they’re getting a Texas-sized version of The Karate Kid. They expect the grizzled old vet to teach the wayward youth how to ride a bull, they win the big championship, everyone claps, roll credits.
That is not this movie.
Bull is a "poverty row" drama that refuses to sentimentalize its characters. Abe isn't a saint. He’s grumpy, he’s stubborn, and he’s physically deteriorating in a way that’s hard to watch. Kris isn’t some misunderstood genius; she’s a kid who makes genuinely frustrating choices because she has no roadmap for how to be an adult. The film is actually quite similar to Chloe Zhao’s The Rider or even Lean on Pete, where the setting—the rural, dusty outskirts of Houston—is just as much a character as the humans.
Most people also miss the specific cultural intersection Silverstein is exploring here. This isn't just "cowboy" culture. This is the world of Black rodeo and the fringes of the professional circuit. It’s a specific slice of Americana that rarely gets screen time. By focusing on the gritty reality of the "bull baiter" or rodeo clown, the film deconstructs the myth of the cowboy. There is no glory here. Just bruises, dust, and the need to make rent.
The Raw Performance of Rob Morgan and Amber Havard
If you’ve watched Stranger Things or Mudbound, you know Rob Morgan is a powerhouse. But in Bull, he does something different. He uses his entire body to communicate pain. You can almost feel the grinding of his joints when he walks. There’s this scene where he’s preparing for a rodeo, taping himself up like a mummy just to stay together for eight seconds of work. It’s quiet. It’s devastating.
Then you have Amber Havard. This was her debut. She was discovered through a casting call at a local school, and that "non-actor" energy brings a level of authenticity you just can't fake. She doesn't "act" rebellious; she just exists in a state of constant, low-simmering defiance.
Why the Cinematography Matters
The film was shot by Shabier Kirchner. He’s the same guy who did the cinematography for Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series. He captures Texas not as a postcard, but as a series of cramped interiors and vast, unforgiving horizons. The camera lingers on things:
- The way the light hits the dust in a trailer.
- The massive, terrifying bulk of a bull in a dark pen.
- The flickering neon of a dive bar.
It’s tactile. You can almost smell the manure and the stale beer. This visual language is why the movie sticks with you. It doesn't rely on snappy dialogue. It relies on the weight of the atmosphere.
Dealing with the Ending (Spoilers, Kinda)
People often walk away from the Bull 2019 film feeling a bit unsettled by the ending. It doesn't give you a neat bow. Kris doesn't suddenly become a straight-A student. Abe doesn't find a miracle cure for his spine.
Instead, the film offers something much smaller and, honestly, more meaningful: a shift in trajectory. It’s about the moment a person realizes they have a choice. Kris sees in Abe a reflection of where she’s headed—a life of physical toll and isolation—and she decides to nudge herself in a different direction. It’s a movie about the possibility of change, not the completion of it.
Silverstein, who spent years working as a community organizer and documentary filmmaker, brings that "real-world" sensibility to the script. She knows that in these environments, "winning" isn't getting a trophy. Winning is surviving another day with your dignity intact.
The Cultural Context of Rural Texas
To truly understand why Bull feels so heavy, you have to look at the economic reality of its setting. The film takes place in the shadows of Houston’s oil refineries. You see them in the distance—the glowing lights of industry that provide jobs for some but leave others in the dirt.
This is a world where the gig economy has existed forever, but without the shiny apps. Abe is a freelance contractor of the most dangerous kind. If he gets hurt, he doesn't get paid. If he doesn't get paid, he loses his house. The tension in the film doesn't come from a villain; it comes from the sheer precarity of being poor in America.
Critics like Justin Chang from the LA Times have pointed out that the film avoids "poverty porn." It doesn't ask you to pity these characters. It asks you to observe them. There’s a dignity in the way Abe carries himself, even when he’s at his lowest point.
Technical Stats and Real-World Reception
- Director: Annie Silverstein
- Rotten Tomatoes Score: Generally stays in the high 80s/low 90s.
- Key Award Wins: It swept several categories at the Deauville Film Festival, including the Grand Prize.
- Authenticity Note: Many of the people in the rodeo scenes are actual bull riders and workers from the Texas circuit.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re going to sit down with this movie, don't do it while you're scrolling on your phone. It’s a slow burn. It requires you to pay attention to the silence between the lines.
Watch the way Abe interacts with the bull. There’s a weird sort of kinship there. He treats the animal with more respect than he treats most people, probably because the bull is the only thing in his life that is honest with him. The bull wants to kill him. It’s simple. The rest of the world—the doctors, the neighbors, the family—is much more complicated.
Pay attention to the sound design, too. The roar of the crowd is often muffled, making the rodeo feel like a lonely, internal struggle rather than a public spectacle. It’s brilliant.
Taking Action: Exploring the Genre
If Bull resonates with you, there is a whole world of "Contemporary Western Realism" that you should dive into. This isn't the John Wayne era. It’s about the modern struggle of the American West.
- Watch "The Rider" (2017): Directed by Chloe Zhao. It’s almost a companion piece to Bull, focusing on a South Dakota cowboy recovering from a fatal head injury.
- Research the Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo: If the Black rodeo elements of the film interested you, look into the history of Black cowboys in the US. It’s a history that has been systematically erased from mainstream cinema for decades.
- Check out Annie Silverstein's short films: Specifically Skunk, which won a top prize at Cannes and explores similar themes of adolescent girlhood and the harshness of nature.
- Support Indie Cinema: Movies like this live or die on streaming and VOD. If you like it, tell someone. These mid-budget character studies are becoming a lost art form in an era of franchise dominance.
Bull is a reminder that the most compelling stories aren't about grand adventures. They’re about the quiet, agonizing, and ultimately hopeful moments when two people decide that they don't have to be alone in their struggle. It’s a tough watch, but it’s a necessary one. It’s the kind of film that makes you look at the person standing in line behind you at the gas station a little differently. You never know who’s just trying to survive their own eight-second ride.
To get the most out of the experience, seek out the film on platforms like Hulu or Kanopy (which is free with a library card). Watch it on the biggest screen you have to appreciate Kirchner's wide-angle shots of the Texas plains. Once you’ve finished, look up interviews with Rob Morgan regarding his physical preparation for the role; the actor reportedly spent significant time with real rodeo clowns to master the specific, labored gait seen in the film. Understanding the physical toll of that profession adds an entirely new layer of respect for the performance.