Course Trailer and Description

Course Trailer:

Forgive the poor video skills. Clips from various interviews and documentaries on the Native American in film.

Course Description:

This 10 week course, covering 8 films, portrays to date, the most accurate and notable films portraying the modern Native American experience. These films, besides exploring identity and place, cover a number of Adler's Great Ideas, in particular, Justice, Good and Evil, Human Nature and the Meaning of Life. Michael Dorris said it best, "In the popular imagination, American Indians have usually been defined in the past tense. There's a museum mustiness in the treatment of native peoples in films... Hollywood Indians generally lack the vibrancy and immediacy of flesh and blood human beings. They stand for ideas rather than have them on their own." This project is to bring to light the films that are trying to dust out the Hollywood Native American closet, and explore the Native American point of view.

The 8 films, most of which can be viewed online, are either written, directed, or produced (in many case all of the above) by a Native American, or First Nations member (Indigenous Canadian), with the majority of the cast being Native. Many actors will become familiar faces, speaking to the fact that Native Actors and roles are view and far between. However, I believe that will speak for itself and that Native cinema will only increase in popularity and prominence.

Week 9 and 10: The Evolution and Future of Native American Film

In addition to the eight films, a number of articles also capture the contempoary state of Native American Cinema.

A brief history of Native Americans in film: http://www.filmreference.com/encyclopedia/Independent-Film-Road-Movies/Native-Americans-and-Cinema-NATIVE-AMERICANS-IN-MOVIES.html

An interview with Chris Eyres: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NatNews/message/31757

Lastly, an article about where Native American film is headed: http://www.nativevue.org/blog/?p=513

I would also like to draw attention to a coming film, The Search for the World's Best Indian Taco. The film debuted in late March, and looks to have been very well-recieved. Perhaps up to the level of Smoke Signals? Only time will tell. In the meantime, here is the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=266uzhhF25k

Week 8: California Indian (2008)

California Indian (2008)

Director: Tim Ramos
Producer: Chris Eyre, Richard Castaniero, Tim Ramos,
Writer: Tim Ramos
Rating: NR

Watch online: (available through netflix) http://www.netflix.com/Movie/California_Indian/70075040?strackid=2ea802ccad884c26_0_srl&strkid=1367101820_0_0&lnkctr=srchrd-sr&trkid=222336

Review/Biopic of the Writer-Director: http://www.nativevue.org/blog/?p=72

by Carole Levine

(I think this reveals some of the hardships faced by Native Americans in Hollywood. Tim Ramos could not find Native acting jobs... so he created some.)

"Tim Ramos’s first feature film, California Indian, won’t be seen by audiences until early next year. No matter, one thing is clear. This guy knows how to make a movie.

It doesn’t hurt that he is one smart cookie; well-spoken, thoughtful and savvy. But that isn’t enough in any business, especially this business, which chews and spits out dewy-eyed auteurs like tobacco cud. Tim has paid his dues, first as an actor, then as a student filmmaker. After landing a minor role in 1992’s The Last of the Mohicans, this member of California’s Pomo Tribe found Native roles virtually non-existent. Instead, he spent years scraping by accepting the few acting jobs available to a young indigenous male with a Hispanic-sounding name—mainly, being typecast as a Latino thug.

But, like I said, Ramos is a smart cookie and he wanted more than bit parts playing a punk. He decided to take matters into his own hands and learn how to produce a movie himself. He went back to school; not any school, mind you, but UCLA’s Film School, to earn a dual Master’s in American Indian Studies and Film with an emphasis on directing. Smart cookie.

By 1997, his life was on course, both personally and professionally. While at UCLA, he wrote and directed his first short film, Rancheria; married, became a dad; cognizant he had to earn a steady paycheck. For that reason, he accepted a position with his tribe, the Big Valley Rancheria (a California term for “reservation”) where he produced short videos about cultural preservation and revitalization. Within a year, Ramos established Against the Wind Films making PSA’s and industrial films.

He had his own company; he was making films. “Producing is producing, regardless of the content,” he says. With that in mind, the seed was planted. Tim Ramos was going to write, direct and act in his own movie.

“California Indian has been in development for eight years from the time I started formulating it to getting it on film,” he explains, adding that the story stems from his experience growing up on the Rancheria. “I planned on writing the entire script in six weeks while I was home as a house husband with my kids. It instead turned out to be six months, and then some. In 2002, I finished the script and began showing it to people who told me in needed reworking.”
Of course, being told that your creation needs “reworking” is a humbling experience for any artist, but Ramos was realistic and remained resolute. He enrolled in a screenwriting workshop where he rewrote, tightened and edited the script and then went about doing what you have to do to get a movie completed. As fortune would have it, he had established a rapport with Chris Eyre while doing research for his Master’s thesis; so it was logical he would approach Indian Country’s most respected filmmaker for his support. Eyre enthusiastically embraced the production, a break Ramos knew was pivotal.

“Smoke Signals was the movie that put us (Natives) on the map, so having Chris behind me opened a lot of doors.” Together, the two started approaching Indian casinos throughout California for financial support. Although the tribal councils were verbally enthusiastic about the project, which depicts the effects a casino operation has on a small native community, their interest failed to translate into funding. “We kept coming up with goose eggs. Nothing…By 2005, I got tired of talking about making this movie. I said ‘we just got to do this.’”

So what does a smart cookie do when he’s backed into a corner? Tim Ramos went home. Home to his reservation, that is, and pleaded his case to the Big Valley and nearby Robinson Rancherias who came through to underwrite his production as well as provide food and lodging for the crew during filming.

After years of planning and writing and sweating, California Indian finally was going to be made.
In addition to himself, Ramos assembled a cast that includes blue-chip Native actors Gary Farmer and Gil Birmingham. “We completed 90 pages of script in two weeks, which we shot entirely in digital.” A choice, he says, was “the smartest decision I could have made,” since it facilitated the post-production process. Indeed, Ramos has learned a lot during his first venture as a writer-actor-director. As much as he enjoyed the process of writing and acting, it is not, he admits now, something he would necessarily want to tackle again anytime soon.

“In retrospect, I wouldn’t have worn all the hats. It’s too difficult to worry about all the details and then drop everything to get into makeup and prepare your lines.” And despite having an undergraduate degree in journalism, writing the script had its own challenges. “Originally, the writing is what I enjoyed the most, but as time went on and I had to rework the script, it became the toughest part. Probably my least favorite. I have to say now that directing is what I enjoy the most. No doubt about it.”

Now in the final editing stages, California Indian will be ready for distribution by early 2007. He’s pleased with the results, but doesn’t want to remain static and certainly wants to grow and improve and continue the journey started long ago as an extra on The Last of the Mohicans. So Ramos, smart cookie, is thinking ahead. Lots of projects, actually, including documentaries, feature films, even episodic television—are under consideration or in process. And as much as he would jump at the opportunity to direct a major motion picture with mass appeal, he remains steadfastly committed to tell the Native experience in contemporary America.

After all, this is the kid who grew up on a reservation in Northern California, the son of a Filipino immigrant father and Pomo mother and is the first member of his family to earn a college education. Never forgetting who he is or where he came from, Tim Ramos has created a film that reflects his perspective, that of many Natives in contemporary America.

“California Indian is native, in the sense it’s been my reality and the reality of urban Indians everywhere,” he says. “We are always walking in two worlds.”
Two worlds; the world of an Indian. A California Indian. "

Week 7: Edge of America (2003)

Edge of America (2003)

Director: Christ Eyres
Producer: Chris Eyres, Tim Daly, Willy Holtzman
Writer: Willy Holtzman
Rating: NR (I would consider it PG13)






Watch online: (available through netflix) http://www.netflix.com/Movie/Edge_of_America/60034796?strackid=6488d5172791b1b3_0_srl&strkid=317985524_0_0&lnkctr=srchrd-sr&trkid=222336

Review: http://daisilla.org/?p=102

(This is a shorter review, but I felt that it had something to say about Edge of America in relation to Chris Eyre's other film, Skins, as well as minority-to-minority relations. This film captures minority-to-minority relations rather well. Recently watched the film Black Cloud, which portrayed a very paternalistc view of minority-minority relations, as well as white-minority relations. All in all a poor film, you won't see it in this course).

"A few weeks ago, I saw Skins again after a long time and also caught Edge of America. Both are Chris Eyre films. I like his work. His films tend to deal with poignant issues in nuanced ways, incorporating drama and humor, Western and Native culture, and sometimes, just when you think that there’s about to be a cliché, you see the potentially righteously self-righteous one get schooled on why their kettle is black.

Skins is the story of two brothers, played by Graham Greene (Rudy) and Eric Shweig (Mogie), who have taken divergent paths and their journey towards finding harmony, in one case within himself (from the native perspective, his imbalance is symbolized the trickster, personified as it were, by the spider who follows him) but also with each other. Around this story of family bonds, Eyre weaves context: the reality of living on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which includes a large rate of alcoholism. He does so in a subtle way, including news clips but also social commentary by the characters. I always tell folks that for me, a good presentation at a conference is based on humor. If you can make me laugh, you can make me enjoy what you’re telling me and I’ll know you’re going to hit me with some bright stuff. In a similar way, when movies make you laugh even about serious topics, you learn without it being preachy and, like a Facebook friend recently said, “I like the kind of humor that makes you laugh for a minute and think for ten” (or something to that effect; dang Mafia Wars status updates are so friggin’ long I couldn’t re-check the exact quote). Anyway, the Eyre movies I’ve seen always add humor to serious topics and they go down easier and stay with me longer. So, if your class is looking at family, the effects of alcohol on native communities, and native religion/spirituality and politics, I think this movie would be good to check out.

Edge of America would also be good to look at for its treatment of religion/spirituality as well as alternative perspectives and ways of dealing with issues that affect young people. Just as a story is woven above, one character in this film is an actual weaver and schools the professor, and us, about certain key differences in native perspective. It is also an interesting and funny look at race relations between minorities, in this case between the black English professor who comes to the community and ends up coaching the girls’ basketball team, and the Navajo community who he encounters and who encounters him. This was pretty cool to see because there is usually so much emphasis on white and minority relations and not as much on minority and minority relations. I thought the dialog, the incremental steps at mutual understanding and the humor made it a pretty cool film. So, thumbs up for these two films, think you may enjoy."

Week 6: Grand Avenue (1996)

Grand Avenue (1996)



Director: Daniel Sackheim
Producer: Greg Sarris, Robert Redford
Writer: Greg Sarris
Rating: R



Watch online: (through blockbuster) http://www.blockbuster.com/browse/catalog/movieDetails/118257



Review: http://www.amartinez.com/Reviews.html



by Michael Dorris


"In the popular imagination, American Indians have usually been defined in the past tense. There's a museum mustiness in the treatment of native peoples in films, an approach that tends toward over-reverent, one-dimensional characterizations, predictable story lines and nostalgia for the good old days of an Eden before European contact. From "F Troop" to the more recent well-intentioned but stultifying TNT cable network movies honoring native people past and present, Hollywood Indians generally lack the vibrancy and immediacy of flesh and blood human beings. They stand for ideas rather than have them on their own.



"Grand Avenue," an HBO "original drama event" that has Its premiere tonight at 8, does not avoid all of the genre's pitfalls, but it takes a giant step toward offering a gritty and unsparing depiction of contemporary urban Indian life. Based upon Greg Sarris's stunning 1995 collection of interrelated short stories of the same title-and adapted by Mr. Sarris-the three-hour presentation turns a reverse telescope on a situation that's invisible to most Americans but a reality for approximately half of this nation's 2.2 million Indians.



What, native artists are often asked, constitutes the "Indian" in their work? Take away the beads and feathers, take away the brave on horseback framed by a sun set, take away the fringe and the broken English and the faraway look in the eye, and what's left?



Unlike movies such as "Dances With Wolves" and "Pocahontas," "Grand Avenue" has the courage to propose an answer to these questions. The men and women who inhabit this intricately woven tale are in many senses "modern Americans." They watch television, eat fast food, dress like everyone else. They speak an idiomatic slang that reflects a lack of high-quality formal education rather than a stilted jargon created by some non-lndian screenwriter. They face the same problems that others in their economic strata do: inadequate child care, unsafe streets, a lack of opportunity. And yet they are, to the eye who knows how to recognize them, undeniably "Indian."



As people related by blood and common experience, their ultimate strength, as well as their immediate liability, is their staunch refusal to criticize one another-which is to say they accept fallibility, accept human frailty, accept failure, as part of life. They never give up on the possibility of redemption, these flawed but brave individuals. They're always starting over, drawing from a seemingly inexhaustible well of crazy optimism, as if they believe that next time, through an uncontrollable chain of circumstances, everything will work out fine, all the dreams will come true, all the promises will be kept.



There are many ways psychologists could describe this syndrome, this against-all-odds belief in hope, but the words that the characters in "Grand Avenue" would use, the words that the people upon whom the book and the screenplay are based might use, are simply "unconditional love."



The idea for a film of "Grand Avenue" originated at Robert Redford's Sundance Institute, and the film is the first television project of Mr. Redford's Wildwood Enterprises, with Elsboy Entertainment (he is executive producer with Paul Aaron and Rachel Pfeffer). HBO has given the drama first-class backing. Under the direction of Dan Sackheim (an Emmy Award winner for his work on "N.Y.P.D Blue"), the rather episodic plot flows smoothly, and the music by Peter Melnick, which Is performed by Rita Coolidge, provides an understated, enhancing ambiance.



Set primarily in a Santa Rosa, California, neighborhood populated by blacks, Hispanics and off-reservaaon Indians, "Grand Avenue" follows the fortunes of three interrelated families as they struggle to survive a series of catastrophes. Mollie (Sheila Tousey), a Pomo woman with three children-Justine (Deeny Dakota), Alice (Dianne Debassige) and Sheldon (Cody Lightning)-returns to the town of her birth after the death of her husband on a Lokaya reservation. Aided by her cousin Anna (Jenny Gago), she sets up housekeeping in a run down rental house. In no time, Mollie loses her job as a motel maid, the sexually active Justine gets involved with a gang member and an old boyfriend surfaces. He is Steven Toms (A Martinez), an upwardly mobile teacher married to an Apache woman.



Two characters stand in sharp contrast to the tempestuous doings of the rest of the neighborhood. Nellie (Tantoo Cardinal) is a serene medicine woman, gardener and traditional Pomo basket-weaver. Her immaculate house is proof of her mental stability; her pressed ribbon dresses advertise her ties to her Indian roots. She takes an interest in Alice, Mollie's second daughter, and teaches her the craft of basket-making, suggesting that amid all the distractions of contemporary life, a continuity with a tribal past will be kept alive.



Alice is the single most interesting element m "Grand Avenue." She is a survivor, a girl forced to grow up too quickly but a person who resists the loss of a basic innocence. Clearly she has stepped into the mothering role vacated by the often weak and self-pitying Mollie, and manages to communicate a quiet, uncomplaining strength in times of crisis. She more than anyone else holds the family together, and the startlingly fresh and powerful performance by Ms. Debassige anchors the film and gives it a deep resonance.



Mr. Sarris, who in his many roles (writer, adapter, co-producer) might be considered the auteur of "Grand Avenue," knows whereof he speaks. A professor of literature at the University of Caiifornia at Los Angeles and of Irish, Fllipino, Jewish, Pomo and Miwok background, he grew up in Santa Rosa and experienced the turbuIence of its mean streets firsthand. He is the author of several scholarly works; his fiction debut, "Grand Avenue," drew rave reviews for its Iyricism and insight into the complex psychology of contemporary Indian life.



His influence in the film surfaces in many subtle but authentic ways: the casual notice of a woman cooking fry bread on the stove, the right choice of a particular new dress that Mollie selects, the quiet acceptance of hardship and the surprise at good fortune evinced by men and women used to being down on their luck. One hopes that viewers of "Grand Avenue" will be motivated to seek out the more fully realized version of the story, his heart-wrenching book.



"Grand Avenue" makes no excuses for its melodramatic plot twists; urban strife is not delicate. Events on the street jag and dip like a seismograph during an earthquake. Almost as in physics, each action has an equal and opposite reaction, each tentative step forward away from despair is answered by seemingly random violence, bad luck or insurmountable odds. The only element always found in American Indian communities that is largely missing from the film is the survival humor, the shared, forced comedy to which Indian people must so often resort and that is missed or misunderstood by most mainstream observers.



Perhaps the symmetries of "Grand Avenue" are a bit neat and strained-the film begins with a funeral and ends with one. Perhaps the remission of an illness ls a little too perfectiy timed. Perhaps the deus ex machina of a benevolent father-figure, an Aicoholics Anonymous enthusiast (August Schellenberg), is just slightly too convenient. Perhaps the stylish, good taste of the self-congratulatory medicine woman is a bit too Martha Stewart. But the value of "Grand Avenue" is redeemed by the full-hearted performances. The neatly tied ends are balanced by keenly observed little details, the feeling that the film evolved from a painful reality.



This Is a movie in which the accumulation of eclectic moments finally overcomes the burden of an inevitable, discouraging theme, in which the finely tuned characterizations breathe life into shopworn silhouettes, in whlch acute cinematography eclipses overworked themes. The viewer comes away from "Grand Avenue" with a deeper awareness, an awakened sensibility, that goes beyond typical television-movie didacticism. We have a sense of what it is like to be on the skids in Santa Rosa, an empathy rather than a sympathy for the durable men and women we've watched struggle with thelr demons. This is an identification that transcends ethnicity or economics and approaches a "there but for fortune" sort of recognition. And that, in the long history of tribal people on the little screen, is a downright leap.



At the end of "Grand Avenue" all the surviving characters are suffused with a sense of irrational hope. Who are we to tell them they're wrong?"



Copyright © New York Times

Week 5: The Doe Boy (2001)

The Doe Boy (2001)

Directed: Randy Redroad
Produced: Anthony Vozza, Chris Eyre, Jennifer Easton
Written: Randy Redroad
Rating: Not rated (language, minor violence)

Watch online: (available through netflix) http://www.netflix.com/Movie/The_Doe_Boy/60024393?strackid=6a72b28c43de138e_0_srl&strkid=975256097_0_0&lnkctr=srchrd-sr&trkid=222336

Review: http://www.weirdwildrealm.com/f-powwowhighway.html

"Hunter is a hemopheliac kid who lives in a rural area (the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma) where hunting is important. As a youngster, despite his hemophelia, his father (Kevin Anderson) takes him on his first hunt. Alas, while his dad was napping, the kid killed a doe.

As a kid, Hunter is played by Andrew J. Ferchland; as a young man he's played by James Duval, who that same year was Frank in Donny Darko (2001).

For years after Hunter became known as "the doe boy" who couldn't tell a buck from a doe. And his maternal grandfather Marvin turned it into the humiliating story "The Hunter Who Shot a Woman."

I hugely admired Gordon Tootoosis's performance as the grandfather. It was first off a well written role & Tootoosis made it real. He's not your standard wise old romantic snow-haired Indian such as populate cinema when it tries to be "sensitive" toward Native Americans but can often come off annoyingly sentmental, such as Tootoosis could easily play with conviction. The epitome of that type was Chief Dan George as Old Lodge Skins of "Good day to die" fame in Little Big Man (1970).

As pure romance the archetype has definite appeal, but it's not real. By contrast, Marvin even while he does embody history & the wisdom of elders, he also seems like an actual person, not a "noble savage" cliche. He's a good guy but with crabby moments like anyone.

Tommy Deer-in-Water (James Smith, Jr.) is a top local hunter, whom Hunter greatly admires.

Young Hunter, whose very name should have defined his destiny, was never given a second chance to hunt. Yet his desire to be a hunter has never left him.

He has no desire to do it "white man style" like his father, dressing up like a tree & hiding with a high powered rifle. Rather, he wants to be like Tommy Deer-in-Water who only needs one arrow.

For the bulk of the film it's about a mildly dysfunctional family coping, loving, dreaming, hoping, a universal tale for any race, though mostly about Indian characters.

It's early in the year 1980, a time when a number of hemophiliacs contracted AIDs from contaminated blood.

Hunter has to be tested & while waiting for the results, he knows only that live or die, he goes on a hunt with one arrow. The tension between the worry & the intent provides several beautiful, beautiful moments.

It's hard to describe such a sensitive realistic film adequately as I fear my discription has made it seem like a soapy soft slice-of-life, when it's packed with amazing performances that reach the heart with truths & human struggles, never relying on sentiment or tearjerking tricks.

The film was a great success at Sundance & lauded at numerous film festivals including at the American Indian Film Festival where it swept awards for best film, best director, best lead actor (Duval), & best actress (Jeri Arrendondo who plays Hunter's Cherokee mom).

The effectiveness of such a fine script so well acted is enhanced by a wonderful soundtrack. The music is by native artists, across the board superbly chosen."

Week 4: The Business of Fancydancing (2002)

The Business of Fancydancing (2002)

Directed: Sherman Alexie
Produced: Larry Estes, Scott Rosenfelt
Written: Sherman Alexie
Rating: Not rated, does contain strong language

Watch online: Available through netflix http://www.netflix.com/Movie/The_Business_of_Fancydancing/60028435?strackid=40a922183e9c6a9e_0_srl&strkid=1064714102_0_0&lnkctr=srchrd-sr&trkid=222336

Review: http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/review?res=9E04EFD7153DF93BA25753C1A9649C8B63

By Elvis Mitchell

''The Business of Fancydancing,'' the directorial debut of the novelist and screenwriter Sherman Alexie, is an often affecting, low-budget melodrama that is occasionally sabotaged by its economy of means: the image quality is sometimes so poor that it's like watching the pixel breakup on digital cable. But although the film is initially clumsy and a little hard to follow, Mr. Alexie takes his time in setting his characters in play, and the visual clunkiness becomes secondary to the eloquent emotional desolation.

''Fancydancing,'' which opens today in Manhattan, is difficult material -- a drama about self-destructiveness -- and the novice director is sometimes tangled in the biggest trap inherent in such a project. Presenting such a motif means that almost everybody on screen sees himself as a victim and is prone to displays of sloppy articulation about self-loathing. This must be countered with a directorial toughness that Mr. Alexie, a critically acclaimed American Indian writer, has shown in his prose more than in ''Smoke Signals,'' his first filmed script (directed by Chris Eyre), which was a show-offy exercise in suffering.

The film's narrative is told mostly from the perspective of Seymour Polatkin (Evan Adams), a gay writer and poet and a member of the Spokane tribe. It starts with a high school flashback of Seymour and his friends Aristotle (Gene Tagaban) and Mouse (Swil Kanim), an ill-fated violinist who never shirked telling the truth no matter how painful. When he dies, he leaves as much misery in his wake as he did while he was alive.

The difference between Mouse and Seymour is that Seymour throws the verbal acid back into his own face. He mocks his own shifting psychological identity, giving each of the fans at a book signing a different story about his background as he autographs his book for them. Mouse treated honesty as a weapon, and his duty was to subject whoever happened to be in his line of sight to coruscating rants.

Mouse's funeral takes Seymour back to the reservation, where he's forced to exhume his past, much of which still lives there. This includes Agnes (Michelle St. John), the half-Jewish, half-Spokane woman he briefly dated before realizing that he was ''two-spirited'' -- gay. She's involved with Aristotle, who has no trouble labeling Seymour a sell-out and a deserter of his people. This seems harsh yet reflects what Seymour thinks of himself. He has a particularly funny and bitter monologue -- ''How to Write the Great American Indian Novel'' -- that he uses on himself in which he observes: ''Indians must see visions, and white people can have some visions if they are in love with Indians.''

Mr. Alexie doesn't make Aristotle and Mouse one-dimensional poles between which Seymour exists. Aristotle has squandered his gifts and lies about complaining and drinking instead of doing anything with his life; he's bitter because he was afraid to leave the reservation. And his anger is made worse by Agnes's respect for Seymour, despite the damage he did to her.

The story is fragmented, like a poem, shards that can be assembled into a narrative. There are a few too many devices, like a television interviewer (Rebecca Carroll) whose primary function seems to be to give Seymour a chance to display his contradictory nature. And his white boyfriend, Steven (Kevin Phillip), is saddled with some unfortunate lines to broadcast his sympathy, like ''They're not your tribe anymore. I'm your tribe.''

But casting Mr. Adams was a thoughtful gambit by the director. The actor's vague boyishness suggests any number of ethnicities; his indistinct handsomeness is a physical manifestation of his own confusion about who he is. (Mr. Adams also appeared in ''Smoke Signals.'') The movie is as much about Seymour's need for spirituality as anything else, and his attempt to reject it is a denial of his own identity.

But the confessional aspect of the story is often pushed a little too hard; the characters are too eager to let us know exactly what's going on in their heads.

The director's dry sincerity leavens the sentiment of this quasi-autobiographical film, a tale about the burden of constantly being asked who you are and where you come from -- a question that artists of color constantly hear, either from others or themselves. Mr. Alexie is smart enough to know it's never satisfactorily answered. "

Week 3: Skins (2002)

Skins (2002)

Director: Chris Eyre
Producer: Chris Eyre
Writer: Adrian C. Louis, Jennifer D. Lyne
Rating: R (Language and violence)

Watch online: (youtube part 1 or 8) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88TLQ5FQt8k

Review: http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/films/films.php?id=5126

By Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat

"Native Americans have always had a healthy respect for aspects of themselves that they would rather avoid. As an antithesis to the brave and bold tales of warriors, they told trickster tales about playful figures who did unmentionable things, were unruly and sexual, and spit in the face of tradition.

Skins, the second feature from Native American director Chris Eyre (Smoke Signals, 1998), is about what happens when a trickster spirit takes hold of a serious and self-righteous Native American and propels him on a strange and spooky ride. This incredibly fresh and engrossing drama shot on location in South Dakota on the Pine Ridge Reservation is one of the best films of 2002. Jennifer Lyne has adapted the screenplay from a 1995 novel by poet Adrian C. Louis, who was a teacher on the Oglala Sioux reservation. It’s a depressing place, the poorest county in the United States, with 75 percent unemployment, substandard living conditions, and rampant alcoholism. Those who live there have a 50 percent shorter life expectancy than other Americans.

Mogie Yellow Lodge (Nathaniel Arcand) and his younger brother Rudy (Chaske Spencer) grow up on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation with an alcoholic father who repeatedly beats up their mother. Mogie, a star football player, takes care of his brother and is a hero figure to him. But when he comes back from Vietnam with three Purple Hearts, Mogie (Graham Greene) isn't the same person. He descends into alcoholism, spending days drinking with his buddy Verdell Weasel Tail (Gary Farmer) and nights in the local jail for disturbing the peace of the community. Often the person who locks him up is Rudy (Eric Schweig), who has become a cop. Aunt Helen (Lois Red Elk), matriarch of the Yellow Lodge, doesn't know what to do about Mogie. She knows he desperately wants to connect with his eighteen-year old son Herbie (Noah Watts) but lacks the will-power to do so.

While pursuing a teenage vandal in an abandoned house where a young man lies dead, Rudy falls down and hits his head on a rock. The trickster spirit, which he had met as a spider when he was 10 years old, suddenly takes possession of this serious young man. The dark side of his psyche manifests as a vengeance-seeking vigilante. Wearing a mask to cover his face, Rudy finds the boys who murdered the kid in the house and cracks their knees with a baseball bat. The trickster also encourages Rudy to have sex with a married woman (Michelle Thrash) and then compels him to torch a liquor store in another town that has been selling beer to Mogie and other Indians not able to purchase alcohol on the "dry" reservation. What he doesn’t realize is that his brother is on the roof of the place trying to break in to steal some beer. Mogie is badly burned, and Rudy is beside himself with guilt. He sees a local medicine man who says: "Human beings don't control anything, spirits do." He later invites Rudy to participate in a sweat lodge ceremony in order to get the trickster off his back.

Skins graphically depicts how poverty and alcoholism serve as divisive forces within families and within the community. Nearly at the end of his rope, Rudy is called to the backyard of a reservation home where Mogie's drinking buddy has gotten caught in a bear trap. The family responsible for putting this dangerous contraption in their yard try to justify this extreme measure as their only security against thieves.

After Mogie recovers from his burns, a doctor tells Rudy that his brother as cirrhosis of the liver and only a short while to live. The two brothers reach out to each other across the divide that has kept them apart for so many years. In the end, the trickster spirit helps Rudy pay tribute to Mogie's anarchistic spirit through an act of vandalism. Although some may be shocked by this image, it is an act of love that unites the brothers beyond the grave.

Skins is the kind of small movie that usually has a hard time finding a large audience. But this bold and cathartic drama set in place of great suffering and loss deserves to be experienced by those who cherish intimate dramas about individuals struggling against all odds to practice love, compassion, and forgiveness."

As this review noted, Eyre's solo project Skins and Alexie's Business of Fancydancing (Week 4), though good aditions to Native American cinema, are not as pivotal as their combined efforts on Smoke Signals. Though it is important to note they work best in tandem, their individual projects are stepping stones along the way to the increase in Native film.

Week 2: Smoke Signals (1998)

Smoke Signals (1998)

Director: Chris Eyre
Producer: Chris Eyre, Sherman Alexie
Writer: Sherman Alexie
Rating: PG13 (intense images and language)

Watch online: http://www.megavideomovies.net/2010/03/watch-smoke-signals-1998-megavideo.html

Review: http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/movie/5948045/review/5948046/smoke_signals

"When it comes to American Indians, Hollywood either trades in Injun stereotypes or dances with Disney. Forget that. Smoke Signals, written and directed by Indians, also casts Indians as Indians. "No Italians with long hair," says Sherman Alexie, 31, the Indian poet, novelist and short-story writer who brings a scrappy new voice to movies with his first screenplay. And what a comic, profane and poetic voice it is. Alexie risks pissing off the PC cavalry as he explores the humor and heartbreak of being young and Indian and living on a reservation ("the rez") at the end of the twentieth century.

The road-movie plot springs from several stories in Alexie's 1003 collection, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven Victor Joseph (Adam Beach) and Thomas Builds-the-Fire (Evan Adams), on-and-off friends since childhood and both now twenty-two, leave the Coeur d'Alenene rez in Idaho by bus and head for Phoenix to collect the ashes of Victor's father, Arnold, hauntingly played by Gary Farmer. Victor can't forgive the abusive, alcoholic Arnold for deserting him and his mother (Tantoo Cardinal) ten years before, Thomas can't forget how Arnold saved his life as an infant in a fire at home that killed Thomas' parents.

Cheyenne-Arapaho director Chris Eyre, a twenty-eight-year-old maker of short films in a striking feature debut, shows a keen eye for daily life on the rez. There are droll radio reports on weather ("It's a good day to be indigenous") and traffic ("Big truck just went by. Now it's gone"), Alexie knows the value of wit in deflecting an often stifling existence that eats away at self-esteem, family life and tribal traditions.

The contentious friendship of Victor and Thomas constitutes the core of the story. Well-placed flashbacks indicate how Thomas' knack for blurting out his thoughts has goaded Victor since childhood. "Hey, Victor," says the twelve-year-old Thomas after learning that Arnold has walked out on his family. "Your father left. What happened? Does he hate you?" Victor decks him for that one. He even tries verbal assaults. "I was wondering, Thomas," says Victor. "What color do you think your mother and father were when they burned up?" But Thomas, perpetually chirping, "Hey, Victor . . .," will not be dissuaded from questioning his friend on any subject that strikes him.

Everything about the smiling Thomas, with his geeky glasses, braids and nonstop storytelling, irritates Victor. On the bus to Phoenix, Victor tries to teach Thomas that being an Indian is not something you learn from watching Dances With Wolves. The point is to strike fear in the white man. "First, quit grinning like a idiot and get stoic," says Victor. "You've gotta look like you've just come back from killing a buffalo."

Thomas' transformation leads to a devastating encounter with two cowboys on the bus. "Find somewhere else to have a powwow," say the cowboys, who have stolen Victor and Thomas' seats. The Indians find new seats in order to avoid a fight, then try to retaliate by making up an insulting song about John Wayne's teeth. The scene shows just how foreign and hostile a country America can be to an Indian off the rez.

Beach and Adams give remarkable performances that grow in feeling and intensity. In Phoenix, Victor and Thomas meet Suzy Song (a tough and luminous Irene Bedard), the young woman who befriended Arnold and found his body. "We kept each other's secrets," Suzy tells Victor, though she does reveal one confidence that makes Victor see his father in a new light.
Smoke Signals doesn't pretend to solve the mystery between parents and children, or the clash between cultures that leaves Victor so angry and Thomas so eager to find stories that can heal wounds. No one listens to Thomas' stories. The same fate will not befall Alexie, who has crafted one of the best films of the year by finding himself in both Victor and Thomas and building something that will last."

Week 1: Pow Wow Highway (1989)

Pow Wow Highway (1989)

Director: Jonathan Wacks
Producer: Denis O'Brien, George Harrison, Jan Wieringa
Writer: David Seals, Janet Heaney
Rating: R (language)

Watch online: http://quicksilverscreen.com/watch?video=49838

Review: http://www.amartinez.com/Reviews.html

by Roger Ebert

"Anyone who can name his 1964 Buick "Protector" and talk to it like a pony has a philosophy we can learn from. Philbert Bono is the name of the philosopher. He is a member of the Northern Cheyenne tribe, and near the beginning of "Powwow Highway" he and a friend, Buddy Red Bow, set out to ride Protector from Lame Deer, Mont., to Santa Fe, N. M. They go by way of the Dakotas, because to Bono the best way to get to a place is not always the straightest way.

"Powwow Highway" is the story of their journey, and in one sense it's a road movie and a buddy movie, but in another sense it's a meditation on the way American Indians can understand the land in terms of space, not of time. Philbert never states it in so many words, but it's clear he doesn't think of a trip to Santa Fe in terms of hours or miles, but in terms of the places he must visit between here and there to make it into a journey and not simply the physical relocation of his body.

The movie supplies a plot in order to explain why the two Indians need to take their journey, but the plot is the least interesting element of the film. It involves a scheme against Buddy, who is a tribal activist and opposes a phony land-rights grab that's being directed at some Indian territories. His sister is thrown into jail in Santa Fe, and he must go there to bail her out, and that will get him out of Montana at a crucial time. And so on.

The plot is not the point. What "Powwow Highway" does best is to create two unforgettable characters and give them some time together. It places them within a large network of their Indian friends so we get a sense of the way their community still shares and thrives. As Philbert points Protector east instead of south, as he visits friends and sacred Indian places along the road, he doesn't try to justify what he's doing. It comes from inside. And it comes, we sense, from a very old Indian way of looking at things. Buddy is much more modern and impatient - he's Type A - but as their journey unfolds, he can begin to see the sense of it.

The movie develops a certain magical intensity during the journey, and much of that comes from the chemistry between the two lead actors. Philbert is played by Gary Farmer, a tall, huge man with a long mane of black hair and a gentle disposition. He speaks softly and sees things with a blinding directness. Buddy (A Martinez) is more "modern," more political, angrier. Their friendship has survived their differences. The movie was shot entirely on location, and the set decoration, I suspect, consists of whatever the camera found in its way. (If this is not so, it is a great tribute to the filmmakers, who made it seem that way.) We visit trailer parks and dispossessed suburbs and pool halls and convenience stores. We watch the dawn in more than one state, and we get the sense of the life on the road in a way that is both modern (highways, traffic signals) and timeless (the oneness of the land and the journey). And although I have made this all sound important and mystical, "Powwow Highway" is at heart a comedy, and even a bit of a thriller, although the way they spring Buddy's sister from prison belongs to the comedy and not the thriller.

The movie is based on a novel by David Seals, which I have not read; the story resembles the tone in some of W. P. Kinsella's stories about North American Indians. In Buddy it shows the somewhat fading anger of a man who once was a firebrand in the American Indian Movement (he has a concise, bitter speech about the programs "for" the Indians that will be an education for some viewers). In Philbert it finds a supplement to that anger in a man whose sheer, unshakable serenity is a political statement of its own.

One of the reasons we go to movies is to meet people we have not met before. It will be a long time before I forget Farmer, who disappears into the Philbert role so completely we almost think he is this simple, openhearted man - until we learn he's an actor and teacher from near Toronto. It's one of the most wholly convincing performances I've seen.

Most of the people who go to see "Powwow Highway" will already have seen "Rainman," the box-office best seller. Will they notice how similar the movies are in structure? Philbert does not have any sort of mental handicap, as the man with autism does in "Rainman," but he has a similar, absolutely direct simplicity. Both characters state facts. They catalog the obvious. Deep beneath the simplicity of Philbert's statements is a serene profundity (we cannot be quite sure what lies at the bottom of the autistic's statements). In both movies the other man - younger, ambitious, impatient - learns from the older. Meanwhile, in both movies, the men become friends while they drive in ancient Buicks down the limitless highways of America.

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