Organized by the Film and Video Center of the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian (FVC), the festival was presented in New York City at the NMAI George Gustav Heye Center, the Donnell Media Center of the New York Public Library, and the American Indian Community House. For information on other segments, please visit style=’color:windowtext;text-decoration:none;text-underline:none’>www.nativenetworks.si.edu (English) or www.redesindigenas.si.edu (Espanol).
style="mso-spacerun: yes">
Manhattan, A Moving Picture Postcard style=’font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana;font-weight:normal’>
Steve Bilich, 2002, short, 13 min.
In this piece, a Native American moves through a series of jumpy Manhattan visuals to juxtapose a man of nature against a super-urban man. This work was shot on a hand-cranked Kodak camera bought for 9 dollars at a midtown flea market–bravo! It works fairly well as a visual meditation on what our losses are as a superimposed, overbuilt people until the director uses the tragedy of 9/11 to try and bring home the point, in case anyone had missed it. I hadn’t. When 9/11 entered into the piece, it shifted into something else entirely. In the Q&A session, the director explained that in the film he was trying to connect the two horrific massacres of Native Americans and New York Americans. While neither one needs more to make their own commentary, the two combined makes a statement that makes us drop to our knees and weep.
Estos Dolores Somos style="mso-spacerun: yes">
Roberto Olivares, 2003, short, 6 min.
This video tells the story about the 10th anniversary of the March of the Color for the Earth, which is a Zapatista movement in Mexico to create a constitution that would recognize indigenous peoples. Unfortunately, if the piece did not have introductions, a read-along synopsis and a full explanation in the follow-up Q&A, I would not have understood its background. The work was inaccessible. So, that aside, it felt like a poetically told corporate video, complete with moving text and voice over.
Ghost Riders style="mso-spacerun: yes">
V. Blackhawk Aamott, 2003, feature, 58 min.
Ghost Riders documents the Lakota Nation’s annual Big Foot Memorial Ride through 300 miles of the Dakotas over a two-week period each December. V. Blackhawk Aamott, writer and director, chronicles this modern day Native American ritual of "stirring up the spirits" to honor their ancestors who bravely rode the same path against incarceration by the white man in 1890. 110 years earlier, 300 unarmed Lakota men, women and children were slaughtered after their leader Big Foot gave them up peacefully at Wounded Knee Creek. At that time, 23 Medals of Honor were issued by the U.S. Government to the 7th Cavalry for the carnage. Today, the youth of the Lakota Nation rides alongside the ghosts of the Massacre of Wounded Knee to ensure the ways of their people will never die.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Aamott gives his audience a warm-seated peephole view into this annual winter experience without disturbing even a blade of the plain’s grass. We meet Cork Horse, Leader of the Future Generation Big Foot Rider, who rides because he wants to give hope to his children. We are told that the present day children of the Lakota Nation are lost in successive generations of relocation, containment and assimilation by the U.S. Government. The children have turned to alcohol, drugs and suicide. We meet a small Native American of about the age of 5 that tells us, "I am not an Indian".
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> If education means assimilation, why would a Lakota child value school? If all the older generations of the Pine Ridge Reservation have been sent away to boarding schools by the U.S. government to forget the Lakota ways, who will speak the language? One of the lost children who almost overdosed on "huffing" (inhaling glue, gas, and toxins), who has now become a Big Foot Rider, gives us the answer. Gather together the horses, stir the spirits of the ancestors and ride until the days of the Buffalo return.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Aamott’s camera is a gentle, respectful witness. He weaves between Mini DV and Super 8 and as he moves between past and present, the viewer gets the felling that Aamott and his editor are a few cuts away from the final cut. There is more here than is needed to tell the story. His title cards could use some work or be eliminated. However, what he gets right is the documentation of a critical piece of American history and current events, the winter bitten faces of determination on the Lakota children who ride to save their culture, and a few magnificent sunrises over the Pine Ridge Reservation – a hopeful prophecy of the future. |