The cinematography was as sumptuous and panoramic as Q'Oranka Kilchar's upper lip, but the rest of the movie twists in the stream with a snapped ruder from about thirty minutes in, till nearly the end. Leaving the moviegoer more focused on how uncomfortable the seating is than what might be happening on the screen. To make matters worse we are constantly bombarded with the same few bars of Mozarts piano concerto no. 23--over and over and over until even the purest classical music buff cries "enough!" The secret might be to burn a fattie before going. Pot smokers will undoubtedly dig the films dreaminess and groovy vibe, but for those of us whose minds are mostly addled by the constant dirge of sobriety the length and lack of direction of this film will be a constant effrontery.
Oh, by the way. Why is it that Hollywood thinks we won't sympathize properly with Indians unless they are made to look like unusually tan Nordic Gym models.I felt like I was watching a commercial for Victoria Secret's new Buckskin Editions. Historical photos from the 1800's just don't seem to support evidence of particularly Athenian statures or the presence of Revlon products in Americas original native peoples. Why do we still need to be BS'd? Can't they just tell a story honestly without apotheosizing and demonizing with aesthetics? They have no problem making the Europeans look ugly.
Just a thought.
Oh, by the way. Why is it that Hollywood thinks we won't sympathize properly with Indians unless they are made to look like unusually tan Nordic Gym models.I felt like I was watching a commercial for Victoria Secret's new Buckskin Editions. Historical photos from the 1800's just don't seem to support evidence of particularly Athenian statures or the presence of Revlon products in Americas original native peoples. Why do we still need to be BS'd? Can't they just tell a story honestly without apotheosizing and demonizing with aesthetics? They have no problem making the Europeans look ugly.
Just a thought.