Director Kelly Reichardt’s fourth feature, Wendy and Lucy, is a quiet affair. It takes place over the course of a couple of days in a little Oregon town. Its protagonist, Wendy, doesn’t say much, as she spends most of her time alone, and occupies nearly every frame of the movie. And the film lacks a musical score of any sort, apart from a simple little offhand tune that Wendy hums absently to herself (written by Will Oldham, who also has a cameo). In other words, the movie sounds like life, long periods of silence with the little sounds of our environments and whatever music we bring with us.

And the pace of real life is the rhythm that drives Reichardt’s film. There’s only enough narrative here to fuel maybe 20 minutes worth of time in most films, but Reichardt stretches out the thin plot to show all that silent time in between things actually happening. It’s a harder trick than it looks; let’s face it, watching a person’s life unfold without fast-forwarding to the important plot points is mind-numbing work, but credit Reichardt with being able to make such a beautifully minimalist film with so little explicitly stated.

What we know is that Wendy is on her way from her sister’s place in Indiana to the promise of a new life in Alaska, armed only with a trunk full of possessions, a temperamental Honda Accord, and her beloved mutt Lucy. By the time she hits this depressed little Oregon burg, she’s down to a little over $500 in cash, kept in a money belt fastened always around her torso.