Complicating Indigenous Feminism: Shayla’s Story in ‘Imprint’

And the story imprinted is the story of colonization and domination, a story that has seduced Shayla in her role as an attorney. But another story is also imprinted in this woman, a story of tradition, memory, family, and the foundational principles of her Indigenous culture. As the film progress, Shayla starts putting the broken pieces of her experiences in Denver together with the visions and experiences of home in order to remember.


Written by Amanda Morris.


One of our biggest complaints as feminists is the absurd lack of smart, independent, savvy women as lead characters in films. You know, women characters who have lives and complications and thoughts that don’t constantly depend on a man’s validation or involvement. Well, have I got the film for you! In fact, I moved this one up in my queue because it not only passes the Bechdel test, it also presents a complicated view of Native American women that we rarely (if ever) see in mainstream Hollywood films. Plus, it is billed as a “supernatural thriller” or “ghost story,” which is perfect for the month that ends in Halloween.

I give you Imprint, produced by critically-acclaimed Cheyenne/Arapaho director Chris Eyre, directed by Michael Linn, and starring the confident and talented Tonantzin Carmelo (Tongva/Kumeyaay) and Carla-Rae Holland (Seneca/Mohawk), who both won awards for their performances.

Imprint Trailer:

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saYPpujKK8U”]

Imprint opens with a fast-paced, montage-style of images, views, and movement through a house, field, and barn; ostensibly the ghost’s point of view, which is immediately followed by a hard blackout cut to a protest outside a Denver courthouse. Signs that read “Our voices will be heard” and  “Stonefeather is a traitor” dot the crowd as they chant “He’s a good boy, help him!” This is our first introduction to the story that sets this film in motion, and its lead character, Shayla Stonefeather, a Lakota attorney rising in prominence within the American legal system who is successfully prosecuting a young Native American man for murder inside this courthouse. The protesters label her a traitor who has turned her back on her Lakota culture and fellow Native Americans. Shayla’s inner inner turmoil is evident on her face as she closes her case.

Tonantzin Carmelo as Shayla Stonefeather in Imprint.


Shayla is a cultural minority achieving great success in the American colonialist machine, but seems to understand the trade-off; her spirit and her culture suffer next to her American ambitions. She has a job to do and she does it, but clearly feels the toll. Shayla flies back to her childhood home on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota where she must reconnect with her past, re-embrace her culture, and confront her ghosts. Her mother, Rebecca Stonefeather, played by Carla-Rae Holland, welcomes her home with a hug and the warm sentiment, “Beautiful daughter,” in the Lakota language.

Soon after she arrives to find her father dying, Shayla begins having visions and encounters that are suggestively supernatural. The film unfolds in a somewhat non-linear fashion, melding past with present in a way that causes Shayla to question herself and her place in the community and the world. “What happened to you? What happened to the little girl who wanted to come back and help our people?” her mother asks, and Shayla says that she grew up, responding, “Our biggest problems are self-inflicted.” The conversation between mother and daughter about reservation realities is abruptly interrupted when Shayla’s father suffers an outburst, followed by one of Shayla’s visions that draws her outside to the barn with a loaded shotgun.

Dr. Kim Anderson (Cree-Metis) argues that “there are many kinds of feminism,” including her idea that “Indigenous feminism is linked to a foundational principle in Indigenous societies – that is, the profound reverence for life” (In Indigenous Women and Feminism, 81). In particular, Anderson suggests that “Indigenous feminism is about creating a new world out of the best of the old. Indigenous feminism is about honouring creation in all its forms, while also fostering the kind of critical thinking that will allow us to stay true to our traditional reverence for life. . .We especially need to learn about the feminist elements of our various Indigenous traditions and begin to celebrate and practice them” (Indigenous Women, 89).

This type of feminism that Anderson writes about is represented in Imprint. Shayla learns to listen and the medicine man, played by David Bald Eagle, tells her that the earth and its creatures, plants, rocks, and trees, “remember when we forget. The story forever imprinted on this land.” And the story imprinted is the story of colonization and domination, a story that has seduced Shayla in her role as an attorney. But another story is also imprinted in this woman, a story of tradition, memory, family, and the foundational principles of her Indigenous culture. As the film progress, Shayla starts putting the broken pieces of her experiences in Denver together with the visions and experiences of home in order to remember.

Variety called this film “an old-fashioned ghost story with a Native American twist.” All due respect to Variety, but that is a simplistic and colonialist view of Imprint, a film in which a Native American woman character remains center stage the entire 85 minutes. Yes, there are ghosts. And a great twist at the end. But this is so much more than a ghost story. It is Shayla’s story–a story that complicates our assumptions about representations of  Indigenous women, in films and in American culture.

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Awards for Imprint include the following:

American Indian Film Festival (2007), won Best Film, Best Actress, and Best Supporting Actress

Cherokee International Film Festival (2007), won Best Feature

South Dakota Film Festival (2008), won Best Feature

Hoboken International Film Festival (2008), won Best Cinematography

South by Southwest FF (2007), Official Selection.

This film is available to stream on Netflix and as a DVD from Amazon.

 


Dr. Amanda Morris is an Associate Professor of Multiethnic Rhetorics at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania with a specialty in Indigenous Rhetorics.

 

 

 

 

 

“How do we forgive our fathers?”: Forgiveness and Healing in ‘Smoke Signals’

After the film’s opening fire aftermath scene, viewers are introduced more thoroughly to Arnold Joseph, who cut his hair in mourning after the fire and eventually disappeared, and to Thomas and Victor as young men: “Me and Victor? We were children born of flame and ash,” Thomas narrates. Scenes of reservation life also unfold with a quiet humor, punctuated by music: parallel scenes of Victor eating frybread with his mother, Arlene (Tantoo Cardinal, Metis), and Thomas eating dinner with his grandmother (Monique Mojica, Kuna and Rappahannock); flashback scenes of Victor and Thomas as kids and of Victor with Arnold before he disappeared; the ubiquitous rez traffic and weather reporter, Lester Falls Apart; and two women driving a car in reverse down a paved rez road.

Known as the first full-length feature film to be almost entirely written, directed, co-produced, and acted by Native Americans, Smoke Signals (1998) is a quintessential road movie that attempts to investigate the complex nature of Indigenous relationships, cultures, and contemporary realities, especially the relationship between Native American fathers and sons. On its surface, this is a story about Victor Joseph (Adam Beach, Saulteaux) a young Native man from the Coeur d’Alene Indian Reservation in Idaho who has hated his father almost all his life and is trying to forgive him. When Victor finds out early in the film that his father, Arnold, has died, he and his childhood friend, Thomas Builds-the-Fire (Evan Adams, Sliammon First Nation) embark on a journey to collect his father’s ashes. As the journey progresses, the two young men grapple with the limitations of forgiveness, even as Victor begins to heal.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQhviwp8j38″]

At the opening of the film, Thomas (Adams) narrates over the image of a burning house: “On the 4th of July, 1976, my mother and father celebrated white people’s independence by holding the largest house party in C’oeur d’Alene tribal history. I mean every Indian in the world was there. And then at three in the mornin’, after everyone had passed out or fallen asleep on couches, on chairs, on beds, on the floor, a fire rose up like General George Armstrong Custer and swallowed up my mother and father. I don’t remember that fire, I only have the stories. And in every one of those stories, I could fly.” This last statement is said over the image of a wrapped baby being thrown out of a second story window.

As the drums and chanting rise in the background, the camera shifts to a long-haired man running and diving to catch the falling baby.  Thomas’ narration continues as we see the man gaze down at the infant: “I was just a baby when Arnold Joseph saved me from that fire and delivered me into the hands of my grandmother.”

The morning after the fire. From left: Monique Mojica, Gary Farmer, Tantoo Cardinal

In the morning, the families are gathered around the pile of ash that used to be Thomas’ house and parents and his grandmother says to Arnold, Victor’s father, “You saved my grandson’s life. . .you did a good thing.” Arnold (Gary Farmer, Cayuga) responds with tears in his eyes, “I didn’t mean to.”

This moment of tension and the sad levity brought on by Arnold’s admission that he didn’t mean to do good sets the tone for the entire film. Humor is always dancing around the edges of anger, sadness, and despair in Smoke Signals, directed by Chris Eyre (Cheyenne/Arapaho). Ten years after the release of the film, Eyre sat down for an interview with David Hofstede for Cowboys and Indians magazine. Hofstede notes that this is still his best known film. Eyre responds:

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he says, with a mix of pride and resignation. “On the good side it’s a wonderful story about forgiveness, and I think in 20 years it will hold up. I’ve made several more movies since then, and I think I’ve done some better work, but Smoke Signals is still the one everyone remembers best. I wonder if I’ll be known better for a movie after that, but either way, I’m fine.”

Director Chris Eyre

As the winner of several major films awards including a Filmmaker’s Award and Audience Award at the 1998 Sundance Film Festival and winner of the Best Debut Performance from the Independent Spirit Awards, Smoke Signals has become a well-recognized, almost canonical, Native American film. It is most likely the film you have seen if you have seen a Native American film featuring the perspective, storytelling, and humor of contemporary Native peoples.

After the film’s opening fire aftermath scene, viewers are introduced more thoroughly to Arnold Joseph, who cut his hair in mourning after the fire and eventually disappeared, and to Thomas and Victor as young men: “Me and Victor? We were children born of flame and ash,” Thomas narrates. Scenes of reservation life also unfold with a quiet humor, punctuated by music: parallel scenes of Victor eating frybread with his mother, Arlene (Tantoo Cardinal, Metis), and Thomas eating dinner with his grandmother (Monique Mojica, Kuna and Rappahannock); flashback scenes of Victor and Thomas as kids and of Victor with Arnold before he disappeared; the ubiquitous rez traffic and weather reporter, Lester Falls Apart; and two women driving a car in reverse down a paved rez road.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bctCV38FfU” title=”Victor%20explains%20how%20to%20be%20a%20real%20Indian%20to%20Thomas%20on%20their%20bus%20ride%20to%20Arizona.”]

On the bus to Arizona, Victor admonishes Thomas for being too nice and gullible, saying, “Just remember Thomas, you can’t trust anybody.” Victor’s hard edges are softened over the course of the film by Thomas’ stories, which are primarily about Arnold. Unfortunately, Thomas’ stories mostly irritate and upset Victor, bringing on hurtful memories from childhood such as the morning that Victor witnessed Arnold hit Arlene and leave. But in the end, it is Thomas’ stories and Victor’s acceptance of his father’s shortcomings that opens the space for forgiveness and healing.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tpfO7RS7-U” title=”Arnold%20and%20Arlene%20fight%20and%20then%20Arnold%20leaves”]

Ralph Armbruster-Sandoval writes about fatherhood and forgiveness in his Spring 2008 Wicazo-sa Review article, “Teaching Smoke Signals: Fatherhood, Forgiveness, and ‘Freedom’”: “Forgiveness is not a magical panacea and those who forgive are not morally or ethically superior to those who do not. Forgiveness can potentially transform or free people from anger, hate, and rage, however. . .Victor exemplifies this process” (125).

Victor (Adam Beach) and Thomas (Evan Adams)

The moment Victor finds out from Suzy Song (Irene Bedard, Inupiat/Inuit/Metis) why that fire started all those years ago, the one that Arnold saved Thomas from, is the moment his hate begins to wither. Facts muddle memories for him and he begins to see his father in a new and more complicated light. Learning the truth eventually frees Victor from his unending grudge toward his father and his irritation with Thomas.

If you have seen this film before, consider watching it again with new eyes. It has aged well and remains relevant as a story and as an insightful piece about contemporary Native Americans. Smoke Signals is a particularly useful film to incorporate into any class where Native peoples and cultures are being discussed – students respond well to the humor and the central theme of forgiveness. The film is available for streaming on Netflix and Amazon.com.

Thomas recites Dick Lourie’s poem, “Forgiving Our Fathers,” at the end of the film and those words seem appropriate to end this review:

“How do we forgive our fathers?

Maybe in a dream

Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often or

forever when we were little?

. . .

Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs or in their

deaths, saying it to them, or not saying it?

If we forgive our fathers, what else is left?”

 

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Dr. Amanda Morris is an Assistant Professor of Multiethnic Rhetorics at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania with a specialty in Indigenous Rhetorics.