Native American film – Bitch Flicks

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.

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.

Courage and Consequences in ‘Rhymes for Young Ghouls’

Written by Amanda Morris.

How much courage must one young Mi’g Maq girl possess in order to endure and survive her mother’s suicide, her father’s imprisonment, and her own quest for vengeance? Rhymes for Young Ghouls answers this question in satisfying ways through layered storytelling, poetic cinematography, dark humor, pain, and a touch of the supernatural. All of this AND it passes the Bechdel Test!

Although the cliché of alcohol and drug abuse on the reservation plays a central role in the plot, the film rises above the expectations that this cliché sets up in surprising ways, drawing the viewer in with dialogue, artistry, strong acting, a truly heinous bad guy in Popper, the violent and vindictive Indian agent played by Mark Antony Krupa, and a soundtrack that enhances both active and quiet moments. Plus, it introduces viewers to one potential negative experience of Indian residential schools, which is a subject not covered in most K-12 classrooms.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81JcYmXLcXo” title=”Rhymes%20for%20Young%20Ghouls%20official%20trailer”]

In Boarding School Blues: Revisiting American Indian Educational Experiences, Margaret Connell Szasz writes about power, position, and knowledge through these boarding schools in “Through a Wide-Angle Lens,” beginning with this statement: “Boarding schools go against the grain of human experience. By substituting an institutional setting for the traditional family, they intervene in the educational nurturing historically provided by home, kin group, and community . . . In Indian country, the subject of boarding schools always evokes an emotional response” (187-88). In Rhymes for Young Ghouls, this idea of interference and the breakdown of family, as well as a risky and brazen solution to this intervention is brought to life. Szasz continues, “The federal boarding schools, alongside the Residential Schools of Canada, left a decidedly mixed legacy, one that remains alive in Native communities across North America” (Boarding School Blues, 196). If you want a good idea about the horrific side of this legacy, Rhymes is the film to watch.

The film starts simply enough, with the following historical text in white on a black background, privileging the words and asking the viewer to consider this premise as the foundation of the story to come:

“The law in the Kingdom decreed that every child between the age of 5 and 16 who is physically able must attend Indian Residential School.

“Her Majesty’s attendants, to be called truant officers, will take into custody a child whom they believe to be absent from school using as much force as the circumstance requires.

“–Indian Act, by will of Her Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada”

The first image is a closeup of marijuana with blues music playing as the scene opens to reveal a woman and two men in a kitchen getting drunk and high on the Red Crow Indian Reservation in 1969. They are relaxed and counting up product to sell while getting drunk and then the couple, the parents of the film’s main character, Aila (Kawennahere Devery Jacobs), decide to drive away. Aila and her younger brother, Ty, are sitting and talking on the hood of the car when their parents stagger out of the house. Aila’s uncle, Burner, suggests that Aila, who is a little girl, be the one to drive. What happens next sets the rest of the film’s events in motion.

The next scene shows Aila’s father being arrested as he shouts to her, “Don’t look, Aila! Don’t look!” Of course Aila looks and sees her mother’s body hanging from a porch rafter as her voiceover says, “The day I saw my mother dead, I aged by a thousand years.”

This instant maturity might be the reason Aila decides to take over the marijuana business in order to pay Popper a “truant tax” so that she and her friends can stay out of the Residential School that he controls.

Mark Antony Krupa as "Popper" in Rhymes for Young Ghouls — Mark Antony Krupa as “Popper” in *Rhymes for Young Ghouls*

The refreshing part about this dark story is the calm confidence and self-assurance of an unapologetic Native female protagonist who is unafraid to take risks and clearly provides leadership to her friends and family. When her father returns from prison and finds her in charge instead of his brother, he says that they are supposed to take care of her, not the other way around. And he affirms this idea several times when he refers to Aila as a little girl. But the inexperienced and immature concept of a little girl is not the character that Jacobs portrays in Aila. In fact, this character is quite the opposite – worldwise, smart, practical, and sensitive. When it comes time to confront the domineering and violent Residential School truant officer, Popper, Aila and her friends execute a daring revenge plot that ends this sadistic man’s rein over the reservation community.

Glen Gould ("Joseph"), Brandon Oakes ("Burner"), and Kawennahere Devery Jacobs ("Aila") — Glen Gould (“Joseph”), Brandon Oakes (“Burner”), and Kawennahere Devery Jacobs (“Aila”)

Winning such awards as Best Director at the American Indian Film Festival in 2014, Best Canadian Feature Film at the Vancouver International Film Festival in 2013, and Outstanding Actress in a Supporting Role (Roseanne Supernault) at the Red Nation Film Festival in 2014, Rhymes for Young Ghouls is a Native American film that challenges stereotypes of indigenous peoples while also telling a compelling story accessible to all. Originally released in May 2014, this film runs 88 minutes and can be streamed online via Amazon (free with Prime), or on Vudu (rental or purchase).

In the preface to Boarding School Blues, the editors warn against accepting any single interpretation of the Indian boarding school experience because there were a wide variety of experiences, both positive and negative. So I will similarly caution that this film does not represent ALL indigenous peoples’ experiences with the Indian boarding school or residential school systems, but it IS a good film to start the conversation about a subject that most people know nothing about. Incorporating such a film into a brief unit about the Indian boarding school experience would provide that dramatic and artistic touch that students enjoy, but a chapter from Boarding School Blues would also provide a balanced perspective.

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

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Spike Lee Demands That ‘We Stop This Madness’ at Passionate ‘Do the Right Thing’ Reading by Greg Cwik at Indiewire

It’s Official: Michelle MacLaren Will Direct Wonder Woman by Melissa Silverstein at Women and Hollywood

Vampires, Skateboards and Autonomy: A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night by Abeni Moreno at Ms. blog

Sapna Samant & ‘Kimbap’ at Wellywood Woman

Interview with Filmmaker Laura Poitras About Her Powerful Documentary “Citizenfour” by Monica Castillo at Bitch Media

ADIFF Review: Director Deon Taylor Explores Real Life Racial Horror in ‘Supremacy’ by Nijla Mumin at Shadow and Act

Ridley Scott Blames Lack of Diversity in Exodus on Needing Money by Susana Polo at The Mary Sue

50 Groundbreaking Female Film Artists We’re Thankful For by Alison Nastasi at Flavorwire

‘Star Wars: The Force Awakens’ teaser promises more multicultural galaxy by Adam Howard at MSNBC

11 Essential Native American Films You Can Watch Online Right Now at Indian Country Today Media Network
What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

“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.”

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.

[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?”

_____________________________________

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

Survivance, Loss, and Family in ‘Four Sheets to the Wind’

‘Four Sheets to the Wind’ is an example of Indigenous survivance in this land as the characters interact with each other in the rural Seminole/Creek community in Oklahoma and with the faster-paced city of Tulsa. Anishinaabe scholar and writer Gerald Vizenor wrote in ‘Fugitive Poses: Native American Indian Scenes of Absence and Presence’ (1998), “Survivance. . . is more than survival, more than endurance or mere response; the stories of survivance are an active presence. . . The native stories of survivance are successive and natural estates, survivance is an active repudiation of dominance, tragedy, and victimry.”

Winner of Best Actor (Cody Lightning, Plains Cree) and Best Director (Sterlin Harjo, Seminole/Creek) from the American Indian Film Festival, Four Sheets to the Wind (2007) tells a no-holds-barred realistic tale of survivance, loss, family, communication, and discovery in the best spirit of great independent films. As the Muscogee-language narrator tells the story of Rabbit and Bear at the opening of the film, the camera shows a man dragging another man’s body across the screen and down a dirt road, past a No Trespassing sign, and into a pond. Seminole/Creek Cufe Smallhill (Cody Lightning) discovers his father’s body early in the morning and follows his father’s wishes to rest in the pond. When he returns home to share his father’s suicide note with his mother, Cufe says, “He told me the other day that he never wanted to be buried. Said funerals ain’t nothin’ but a big circus.”

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCm2v8Mq8YI”]

In the midst of this sad moment, the story takes a darkly humorous turn as Cufe, his mother Cora Smallhill (Jeri Arredondo), and cousin Jim (Jon Proudstar) come up with a plan for the expected funeral. As preparations continue, Cufe asks Jim, “You ever feel like just gettin’ the fuck outta here?” Jim responds, “Yeah. But where would I go? I mean, this is home.”

These words hang in the air with a practical sense of finality. The transition shots between scenes showcase the rural Oklahoma landscape, focusing the viewer’s attention on an almost idyllic world of rolling hills, open water, and sunsets. Director Sterlin Harjo (Seminole/Creek) spoke with Christian Neidan for Camera in the Sun about the importance of the Oklahoma landscape to Four Sheets to the Wind: “For me, my films and stories — they are the place that they’re set in,” Harjo said. “I grew up in the country, like a normal kid, but also we had superstitions and stuff that were sort of ingrained in us, and it was just a cool magical way to grow up. So, for me it’s really important to shoot here, and I was telling somebody the other day I don’t know what I’d do if I had to shoot a film outside of the state” (camerainthesun.com).

*Four Sheets to the Wind* director, Sterlin Harjo

Within the film, after a funeral featuring a closed casket filled with weights and watermelons, Cufe decides to leave his rural home environment to visit his sister, Miri (Tamara Podemski, Anishinaabe/Israeli), and it is in Tulsa where Cufe begins to discover his own strength. When Francie invites Cufe to travel with her, he tells Cora and she wants to know, “What’s with this girl? Do you talk?” Cufe says they do talk and she warns him not to “make it a sex thing, ‘cause it’ll never work.”

Actor Jeri Arredondo plays Cora Smallhill in *Four Sheets to the Wind*

Cufe’s relationship with his sister, his somewhat shy interactions with her neighbor, Francie (Laura Bailey), and his conversations with his mother show that he isn’t as uncommunicative as his father. One evening, Cora returns from dinner with a friend and Cufe blames her for not being “helpful to dad,” but Cora responds gently, “It was his choice, we didn’t make it for him. And it’s not my fault that your daddy and I didn’t get along. He was a hard man to get along with. Right there near the end, there was weeks and I’d realize he hadn’t said a word. Weeks. Is life much different now that he’s gone? I miss him, too, but I don’t know.” Cufe doesn’t answer.

Actor Cody Lightning plays protagonist, Cufe Smallhill, in *Four Sheets to the Wind*

At breakfast one morning after Cufe arrives in Tulsa, Miri asks, “So you had, like, a whole conversation with Francie?” Cufe says with a smile, “Yeah.” Miri smiles back and says, “Well, I guess you’re not gonna turn out like dad after all.”

Tamara Podemski as Miri Smallhill in a scene from *Four Sheets to the Wind*

From Cufe’s visual reaction, it is clear that he is conflicted about this – whether he wants to be like his dad or not. When Francie asks Cufe to tell her about his dad, he responds, “He wouldn’t tell you what he felt about you, but when he didn’t think anyone was looking, he’d give you this approving glance, a smile, an approving look, you know. His silence felt like comfort. . .we’d go fishing and we’d be on the pond all day, barely even say anything, share maybe four words with each other, but it felt like we’d been talking all day.” Through this softly delivered monologue, it is clear that Cufe misses his dad and that things really are different now that he’s gone. Francie’s response is to kiss Cufe, but this doesn’t feel forced or cliched: it feels natural and real, which is a testament to the solid acting, music background, and camera work.

Another player in this film is alcohol. The title is a play on the inebriation phrase “three sheets to the wind” and alcohol certainly plays a part in this story. Jim tells Cufe the story of the time Cufe’s dad had been drinking all afternoon, but was able to alleviate Jim’s fear of a tornado by doing a dance in the front yard. Miri parties a lot in Tulsa and seems to make questionable dating choices, getting drunk and having sex with men because they “pick up the tab.” Soon after his arrival, Cufe attends a party with Francie where red Solo cups and kegs are prevalent. At this party, an inebriated white man sitting on a sofa near Cufe asks him, “Where have all the Indian gone,” and Cufe’s response reflects the ridiculousness of the question.

Cufe and Cora bring Miri home after an incident in Tulsa

Four Sheets to the Wind is an example of Indigenous survivance in this land as the characters interact with each other in the rural Seminole/Creek community in Oklahoma and with the faster-paced city of Tulsa. Anishinaabe scholar and writer Gerald Vizenor wrote in Fugitive Poses: Native American Indian Scenes of Absence and Presence (1998), “Survivance. . . is more than survival, more than endurance or mere response; the stories of survivance are an active presence. . . The native stories of survivance are successive and natural estates, survivance is an active repudiation of dominance, tragedy, and victimry.” The characters of this Sterlin Harjo film certainly endure, but they also repudiate tragedy and victimry as they use humor and the lessons of the past to move forward into the future together.

At the end of the film, the narrator speaks the following words in the Muscogee language as viewers see where the characters are now: “People come around in circles. Never ending circles, but you’re never that far away from home.” The tagline for this film is “See life for what it gives you.” Cufe, Cora, Miri, and Francie not only learn to see life for what it gives them, but they learn from those moments and do not fall victim to despair.

Four Sheets to the Wind is available to stream from Amazon, iTunes, or on Netflix DVD.

_____________________________________

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