"This movie lasted three hours?"
Hard it believe. It was riveting. Wonderful acting, writing, characterizations. If you loved "Thunderheart," you'll meet old friends in setting and writing. Moving. Sad. Glorious, makes you think.
The sparks of comedy are sudden, dry and brilliant; We ere laughing all night over one line: "Go sing it, then." My dad would have loved that line.
Gary Farmer as the spider spirit Iktome, with his sidekick Coyote (Warner Brothers lifting him whiolecloth from First Peoples legends) showing us all how NOT to act, are like the sacred clown schticks between the serious dancing:
The native/invader images of the old Bad Indian movies are flipped. The older stories are discredited, as they should be, and the real stories come forward. Soldiers and heaps of buffalo skulls become nightmare visions.
The images are piercing and clever. The Thunder God is blue as Krishna. A skull and a buffalo robe roll into a young man's protecting spirit. A squashed coyote robe blinks its eye and runs off into the grass. A rock speaks when the photo crew uses nothing but a flashlight beam.
The stories are coming back, bringing back their values and lessons. The bad lies about peoples are disappearing, and the sons and daughters of the people who told them don't want them any more. They want the stories, too, because the stories heal.
Dreamkeeper is a keeper.
Hard it believe. It was riveting. Wonderful acting, writing, characterizations. If you loved "Thunderheart," you'll meet old friends in setting and writing. Moving. Sad. Glorious, makes you think.
The sparks of comedy are sudden, dry and brilliant; We ere laughing all night over one line: "Go sing it, then." My dad would have loved that line.
Gary Farmer as the spider spirit Iktome, with his sidekick Coyote (Warner Brothers lifting him whiolecloth from First Peoples legends) showing us all how NOT to act, are like the sacred clown schticks between the serious dancing:
The native/invader images of the old Bad Indian movies are flipped. The older stories are discredited, as they should be, and the real stories come forward. Soldiers and heaps of buffalo skulls become nightmare visions.
The images are piercing and clever. The Thunder God is blue as Krishna. A skull and a buffalo robe roll into a young man's protecting spirit. A squashed coyote robe blinks its eye and runs off into the grass. A rock speaks when the photo crew uses nothing but a flashlight beam.
The stories are coming back, bringing back their values and lessons. The bad lies about peoples are disappearing, and the sons and daughters of the people who told them don't want them any more. They want the stories, too, because the stories heal.
Dreamkeeper is a keeper.