Who knew the latest Bob Odenkirk-starring neo-Western would be one of the year’s most unexpectedly non-binary narratives? I for sure didn’t. Ben Wheatley’s slow-burn actioner — about a kindhearted interim sheriff uncovering that his new town is a front for the Yakuza — initially plays like a Dad Movie. But the real surprise lies within its quietly progressive core. It weaves in a compelling storyline through a grieving trans and non-binary character, Alex, played by Jess McLeod, who gradually comes into their own as a formidable badass, guided by the sheriff’s empathy and support. It’s an unexpected layer that gives the film a bit more soul than its premise suggests.
A mix of Hot Fuzz and Fargo, Normal follows Sheriff Ulysses (Odenkirk) as he’s posted to a small Minnesota town during wintertime after the previous sheriff’s sudden death. Much of the film’s early parts lean into a day-in-the-life rhythm: Ulysses diffusing petty disputes and dealing with quirky, short-tempered locals, always choosing the calm, pacifist route. He’s a genuinely decent guy who doesn’t want trouble, which makes it all the more jarring when he realizes something is off.
That other “something” lies in the town’s treatment of Alex (Jess McLeod), the late sheriff’s trans/non-binary child. They’re grieving, homeless, living out of their car and completely ostracized. The town refers to them as “the kid,” shuts them out, and even excludes them from their own parent’s funeral. It’s cruel in a way that feels casual, which makes it hit harder.
Instead of following suit, Ulysses does the opposite. When he finally approaches Alex, living in their car during a blizzard and drinking, he listens. Hell, he asks them to pour him a little bit of their whisky. He gives them space to speak, to process, to exist without judgment. In one of the film’s strongest turns, Alex opens up about how the town — and even their own father — made them feel like they were never enough. Ulysses meets that vulnerability with empathy, offering them shelter, food, and, most importantly, dignity.
From there, the film slowly pivots. Ulysses uncovers the truth behind the town: The Yakuza hemorrhages their money at a Minnesota bank, and everyone in the town is in on it, except the former sheriff. Things escalate, and Alex becomes more central to the action. Without getting too deep into spoilers, the two eventually team up — Ulysses deputizing Alex — and the dynamic clicks. It’s not just functional, it’s genuinely satisfying as they become a powerhouse duo.
What works best is how naturally the film handles Alex’s identity. Derek Kolstad’s script doesn’t make it a speech or a spectacle; it just lets Alex exist within the world, while still making clear that the town’s treatment of them stems from prejudice. There’s a subtle, naturalistic but effective commentary on intolerance baked into the story without it ever feeling forced.
Odenkirk plays Ulysses as a quietly radical figure in this kind of movie: a man who avoids violence, leads with compassion, and only picks up a gun when absolutely necessary. That contrast makes his support of Alex feel even more meaningful. And McLeod is fantastic, moving from grief-stricken and withdrawn to confident and commanding as the film ramps up. The performance carries a kind of found-family, almost parent-child energy that becomes the film’s emotional anchor. It’s also nice to see that support extends offscreen, with Odenkirk serving as an executive producer on McLeod’s short She’s Nonbinary.
By the final climactic shootout, McLeod fully steps into that action-hero space and becomes a formidable badass, looking cool blasting away their foes. Even if they miss, Alex delivers Rube Goldberg deaths, resulting in a star-making moment for the actor as well. I had to fan myself and take a sip of water because of how hot and cool they were.
Normal feels like a breath of fresh air. It shows a trans character as not just normal, but a cool hero in real time. I believe any middle-aged person can change and grow, especially with movies like this appealing to their demographic or if they have a trans child. Normal offers hope and a valuable lesson through Ulysses, a man who doesn’t discriminate, always tries to be the bigger person, and seeks understanding regardless of identity.
It may be far-fetched — a mild-mannered sheriff and a deceased sheriff’s trans child going scorched-earth on a collectively transphobic town with old-school flair — but it offers an expansive and inclusive portrayal of the small-town Midwest. Normal understands that trans people should be protected and humanized like everyone else. If this regular interim sheriff can move through the world with generosity, so can you. When they become a powerhouse duo of badass sheriffs on equal standing, it’s a showcase of what needs to be out in the world. Hell, now I just want a Normal sequel to see McLeod wielding a gun again and blasting away the corrupt in the name of the law. As they should!
