Jesse Moss’ documentary, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival this January, is a story about work, masculinity, faith and the difficulty of doing good. The film is set against the backdrop of the fracking-led oil boom in North Dakota, which has attracted men from all over recession-hit America with the promise of lucrative work. The small town of Williston has seen a significant amount of these new arrivals. 

The film focuses on Lutheran pastor Jay Reinke, who responds to the influx by opening his church to transient jobseekers who would otherwise be sleeping in their cars. In addition to shelter, he offers help in finding employment and tries to integrate them into the church services. We first see him booking in a new arrival, laying down the rules in a no-nonsense manner (“No weapons, no fighting, no profanity. And don’t spill coffee on the carpet, it drives me crazy”).

The men come from as far as Los Angeles or New York, though most are from the depressed South or Midwest. Most see Williston as an opportunity to start over; some have trouble with the law or addiction, others are simply escaping from places with no work to be found. They tell their stories in talking-head interviews to camera, combined with footage of their daily routine and search for work.

These segments are interspersed with shots of the landscape, with the picturesque rolling grasslands surrounding Williston incongruously clashing with oil derricks and refineries. The most surreal byproduct of this is a giant hole in the ground constantly belching fire, which in a later sequence has been covered over with a barn-sized steel box in a vain attempt at camouflage.

The pastor is an obvious point of focus for the filmmakers

Reinke walks a line between serving his regular congregation, and attending to the needs of the new arrivals out of his self-described Christian principles of hospitality and compassion. At first he tries to defuse the tension between the two groups with humour and understanding (“Did Jesus have long hair?” asks a man staying in the church parking lot who he’s asked to get a haircut. “Jesus didn’t have our neighbours” the pastor shoots back).

The pastor is an obvious point of focus for the filmmakers; he’s a fascinatingly quixotic character, stating his case to camera with a mixture of folksiness and passion. His genuine desire to do good often overrides other priorities; although his family are broadly sympathetic, his dedication to the “overnighters” ends up straining relations with them.

But as relations break down into open hostility, the pastor finds himself betrayed by his own good intentions. Ultimately, he finds that a few of the men have been dishonest with him about their criminal records. While the facts of the cases are disputed, the concealment puts Reinke at a disadvantage dealing with the townsfolk and a scandal-hungry local press.

Moss offers a serious revelation late in the narrative which provides a possible insight into Reinke’s motivations and why he believes so strongly in the possibility of forgiveness and second chances.

In the end, the film seems less about the titular overnighters and more about Reinke himself. Just as they see the oil fields as a fresh start, he wishes to make something new out of the men who come to him. As the final shot of a refinery looming over a pristine green field reminds us, some changes are irrevocable.

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