Hostiles

HOSTILES                 B+                  

USA  (134 mi)  2017  ‘Scope  d:  Scott Cooper

The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer.  It has never yet melted.

—D.H. Lawrence

Like a kick in the face, the film starts out as just another white revisionist view of Manifest Destiny, revisiting New Mexico in 1892 as the Indian wars are coming to an end, with a multitude of Indian prisoners languishing in cages, surrounded by cavalry units who spent their careers in endless slaughter and retribution, serving as the living examples of men used to viewing Indians as savages, which more than anything represents a savagery within the American experience itself, as frontier settlers living on what for centuries had been undisputed Indian territory were subject to sporadic raids, with Indians violently attacking them, leaving no one spared in an effort to steal their horses.  Even before the opening credits we experience one such incident, a horrific incident of gruesome violence, with renegade Comanche’s tracking down each man, woman, and child, expressed as a visceral experience through a hail of bullets and arrows, with one woman getting away (Rosamund Pike), holding a dead baby in her arms, all that’s left of her family, long afterwards showing the ferocity and madness that accompany the incident, but also playing into all the stereotypes to justify what for centuries has been a scathingly racist portrait of American history, which leaves out Indian history, telling the story only from one side, excusing America’s own brutality in order to justify wiping out Indians with a policy of genocide.  Even today, history has not been rewritten, but continues to be told from the white perspective only, where racist and demeaning slurs in the names of popular sports mascots and team names, such as the Washington “Redskins” football team, generates millions of dollars in revenue, none of which goes to Native people.  America has not been reeducated on this history, despite scholarly works by Indians and others that tell a different story, but school curriculums haven’t changed, as our perceptions of history have instead largely been formed by the myths and stereotypes generated by John Ford westerns for the last hundred years, including THE SEARCHERS (1956) starring John Wayne, an avowed Indian hater, which is on the pantheon of films listed as the greatest western of them all.  Despite our knowledge and education, what’s changed?  Which is why it’s surprising to begin exactly where previous westerns left off, with Christian Bale as Army captain Joseph Blocker, another openly unforgiving Indian hater, having spent years on the western plains witnessing multiple atrocities, some by his own hand, with no one questioning his use of “wretched savages” to express his outright contempt for Indians of all tribes and nations.  Before anyone is comfortable in their seats, the battle lines have been drawn, with Bale playing the familiar John Wayne character, firm, resolute, irrepressible, and reflective, reading about Julius Caesar’s Gallic Wars (in Latin) by the light of the campfire.

Director Scott Cooper adapted the film from an unpublished story by Donald E. Stewart (who died in 1999, a manuscript discovered by his wife afterwards, choosing Cooper to make the film), integrating familiar actors into the story, having previously worked with Christian Bale in Out of the Furnace (2013), and before that Jeff Bridges (who won Best Actor and Best Song at the Academy Awards) as a down and out country singer on the road in CRAZY HEART (2009), two films that ache with authenticity.  It’s well worth mentioning that Cooper also brought his cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi to this film, who also shot Spotlight (2015), Silver Linings Playbook (2012), and The Grey (2011), whose unmatched artistry of filming panoramic vistas reaches superb heights, becoming the singlemost important element of the film, as the land is an unspoken character of supreme power, having been there long before white settlers arrived, even before a single human ever set foot upon its shores.  Any historical tribute to the immeasurable American landscape deserves to pay homage to its enormity and beauty, as this element alone provides somber food for thought.  To that end this film is a success, though the immensity of the entire journey tells the story, evolving into something altogether different by the end than it was at the beginning.  In that sense it’s something of a welcome surprise.  Blocker is the heart of the film, as everything revolves around him, and Bale does not disappoint, having worked familiar territory in Terrence Malick’s The New World (2005), though his outwardly racist outbursts in the beginning fall on deaf ears, as he’s known as an honorable soldier, one of the few in command to be trusted with an important mission, in this case a directive from the President of the United States, President Benjamin Harrison, who orders Blocker to accompany released Cheyenne Indian prisoner Chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi), stricken with terminal cancer, whose dying wish is to return with his family to his original homeland in the Valley of the Bears in Montana, a wish granted by the President as an expression of good will.  With his retirement looming, Blocker has a history with Yellow Hawk, as mortal enemies, having been on opposite sides of many battles, losing plenty of good men to his “butchery,” retaliating in kind by brutally targeting the Cheyenne with a vengeance, developing an open hatred, but despite his protestations, he’s the one placed in charge of the detail.  No sooner are they out of sight but Blocker places Yellow Hawk and his son Black Hawk (Adam Beach) in irons, looking him in the eye and stating “I know who you are,” though nothing could be further from the truth, while their women, including Black Hawk’s wife, Q’orianka Kilcher from The New World as Elk Woman, walk alongside the men on horses.  As in nearly all westerns, the Indian characters are underwritten, as we barely get a glimpse of their mistreatment and marginalization, even though they play a central part of the film’s development. 

Over time this becomes a redemption tale and a story of forgiveness, fueled by powerful performances, with the mood of the film slowly changing when they discover Rosalie Quaid (Rosamund Pike), a lone homesteader who survived a Comanche raid, losing her husband and four children, still in shock, having temporarily lost her mind, taking care of fictitious children that are already dead, then insisting upon burying them herself, uselessly scratching the dirt with her own fingers before giving way to the soldiers.  Blocker goes to great lengths to give her space and show a calm respect to this woman, promising not to hurt her, offering his tent, fully respecting her gargantuan loss, where she again goes into shock upon seeing the other Indians, literally recoiling at the sight.  Out of sympathy and respect for her obvious pain, the Indian women offer a mourning dress and blankets, with Yellow Hawk calling the Comanche acts repugnant, claiming the rogue warriors are “not of sound mind,” warning the captain however that they will return, asking to be released from irons.  When the attack comes, several men are lost, with the Cheyenne aiding in the battle, with the captain releasing the irons begrudgingly afterwards, as it’s now all hands on deck.  When they discover the last of the Comanche perpetrators dead along the wayside, it’s suggested that Yellow Hawk and his son might have been responsible, secretly acting under cover of darkness, paving the way for safe travel.  By the time they get to Colorado, Blocker agrees to transport a prisoner, Sergeant Charles Wills (Ben Foster), a convicted ax murderer, to a fort where he’ll be hanged, having slaughtered an innocent Indian family.  Rosalie prefers to continue the journey, with no train or stagecoach in the vicinity, at one point asking Blocker if he has faith, contending without it, she’d otherwise have nothing.  His telling response, “Yes I do.  But he’s been blind to what’s been going on here for a long time.”  It’s a tender moment that becomes part of a slow healing process, as the hate eventually subsides, replaced by an altogether different element of earned respect, mirrored in Rosalie as well, who quickly befriends their Indian counterparts.  Adding reinforcements to the detail, one is Ryan Bingham, a singer and actor who previously appeared in CRAZY HEART, actually writing the Best Song, performing another song by campfire, Ryan Bingham - “How Shall A Sparrow Fly” (From HOSTILES ... YouTube (2:57).  The journey is treacherous and costly, a descent into the heart of darkness, a rude awakening thinning the ranks, threatened by a lawlessness that defines the frontier, still uncivilized, yet beautifully photographed, where each has time to examine their own souls, including the prisoner who once rode with the captain in many of his campaigns, suggesting their positions could be reversed, with Blocker reminding him he was always just “doing his job,” a familiar refrain to justify murderous acts (the Adolf Eichmann defense), where viewers can weigh the cost of history and judge for themselves.  Filled with contentious obstacles faced along the way, finally arriving with a view of Yellow Hawk’s homeland, his end is near, with Blocker gently reminding him of the many friends who died by the hand of Yellow Hawk, yet “A part of me dies with you.”  While violence and hatred continue to plague this budding new nation, with open defiance a phony stand-in for freedom, it’s clear law is a concept that has not yet taken hold, where even a President’s decree is just a piece of paper, easily ignored, but what’s clearly evident is a poetry and grace in the final acts, a transformative spirit, with the vitriol cleansed amongst the dead and the weary, replaced by human decency and a noble kindness of the heart, part of the changing interior landscape, with humanity still weighing in the balance.

   

Note

Despite the glimpse of hope expressed in the final shot (from a white perspective, like the beginning of a long, redemptive journey), it should be pointed out that from an Indian point of view there is a complete absence of hope, instead a shock of horror, a reference to “the stolen generations” in Australia and Phillip Noyce’s RABBIT-PROOF FENCE (2002), where from 1910 to 1970 Aboriginal children were removed from their homes by force and raised as Christian whites, with their Native dress, customs, and history purged from their collective memories, leaving little doubt what will happen to that surviving Indian child, whose Native history certainly won’t be part of his Anglicized reeducation, with little honor paid to him for being the grandson of a Cheyenne Indian chief, a despised figure in American culture at that time.         

The Post

Washington Post Publisher Katharine Graham (left) and Executive Director Ben Bradlee leave the U.S. District Court

Daniel Ellsberg

THE POST                  B-                   

USA  (115 mi)  2017  d:  Steven Spielberg                Facebook official page

A recollection from the halcyon days of journalism, like a golden oldie surging back to life, though in the modern era there is nothing like the backdrop of Vietnam, a continuing war with a rising body count of weekly casualties, all of which add to public dissent, which becomes a staple in the headlines, with polls indicating a growing unpopularity of a foreign war that reaps little rewards, that seems more trouble than it’s worth, yet massive funding continues.  By now, nearly everyone knows someone personally who has perished in this effort, supposedly to stop communism, but the more it drags on the less effective this argument becomes, with America paying too high a price, that only gets worse when the President starts lying about it, not only to the public but to Congress, knowing the military operation would fail, but expanding the war anyway, where the overriding reason (70%), we discover, was to avoid a humiliating U.S. defeat, claiming for a year that we were not anywhere in Laos or Cambodia, yet that turned out to be a blatant fabrication because President Lyndon Johnson knew the nation was not ready for an expansion, though secret military operations enlarged the scope of its actions, none of which was reported in mainstream newspapers.  At the heart of this cover up was an extensive military report (later called “The Pentagon Papers”) ordered by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, who wanted an encyclopedic history of the Vietnam War written as it happened, going back to the Truman era, using active-duty military officers, academics, and civilian employees within the defense department, but failed to inform either the President or the Secretary of State about the existence of this on-going report that actually had its origins in the summer of 1967 and might have played a significant factor when a change in leadership occurred in the 1968 Presidential elections, as Democratic candidates Kennedy and McGovern were adamantly against the war, Humphrey was more of a centrist, while Republican candidate Richard Nixon was a strong advocate.  When Nixon was elected, McNamara left the Defense Department in February 1968, while his successor, Clark M. Clifford, received the finished study on January 15, 1969, five days before Richard Nixon’s inauguration, though Clifford claimed he never read it.  The study itself was comprised of 3000 pages of historical analysis and 4000 pages of original government documents, totaling 47 volumes that was classified as “Top Secret – Sensitive.”  Only 15 copies were distributed.  

Enter Daniel Ellsberg (Matthew Rhys), a military analyst who in the mid 60’s accompanied military troops in combat, documenting the Vietnam military activities in reports written for McNamara.  On a return flight home, Ellsberg overhears McNamara’s own assessment to President Johnson that the war was unwinnable, yet once faced with reporters on the ground, McNamara repeats his beaming confidence in the overall war effort.  This duplicitous face of the government eventually haunts Ellsberg, seen years later secretly photocopying the classified report, which is an immense undertaking, leaking 43 of the volumes to New York Times reporter Neil Sheehan in March of 1971, who began releasing a series of unflattering front-page reports in June, basically an exposé of the government’s long-running deception of the American public.  However, Nixon’s White House finds the release of classified documents as acts paramount to treason, obtaining a court injunction forcing The New York Times to halt to any further publication after three articles.  What this film dramatizes is a pending decision about what to do by The Washington Post, specifically Katharine Graham (Meryl Streep), owner and publisher, and Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks), editor, who agonize about whether or not to publish.  What’s particularly galling is the extent to which publishing and business was exclusively a man’s world, with board rooms looking like men’s clubs, as the presence of women was not taken seriously.  As the sole woman in the room, Graham was well aware of her deficiencies, a woman of wealth and privilege, as she was known more for her gracious hosting of parties with access to important dignitaries than for her business acumen, as she inherited the newspaper after the death of her husband, whose grandfather was the publisher before that, running what was viewed as a family-run paper, but she is in the midst of transitioning the paper into a public corporation beholden to stockholders.  What’s clear is Graham’s anxiety about the business aspect, lacking actual experience, which was her husband’s specialty, deferring to more assertive men that work for her, including the indispensable advice of the paper’s Chairman Fritz Beebe (Tracy Letts), her operations manager Ben Bradlee, and board member Arthur Parsons (Bradley Whitford).  Bradlee fumes under the shadow of The New York Times, always getting the major scoops, where his competitive instinct is to turn that around and compete on the national landscape.  This court injunction offers him a window of opportunity to fill the void, but first he has to get his hands on the report.  Like an unfolding mystery, assistant editor Ben Bagdikian (Bob Odenkirk) is successful in tracing the material to Daniel Ellsberg, eventually obtaining the same documents as The New York Times, with the ultimate question looming:  what are they going to do with it?    

With the White House threatening to sue the paper at the same time Graham was opening the company to public stock options, doomsday scenarios ensue, like a heavy dose of cold water, so the paper sends in its inordinately dour legal team, overly cautious men frought with dire predictions, some suggesting Graham and Bradlee could end up in jail, with the possibility that the paper itself could fold due to catastrophic events.  Fritz is against it, as is Parsons, feeling the need to protect Graham and the paper from the vindictiveness of Nixon in the White House, known for utilizing dirty tricks, reiterating Nixon’s nickname “Tricky Dick.”  Bradlee on the other hand is all guns blazing, believing the essence of a good newspaper is defending free speech, without which they don’t have much of a newspaper.  Racing against time, Bradlee has a date with destiny, scouring through the documents, placing two of his best reporters on writing front page stories, churning out a morning edition that will be ready to go, but held in limbo until Graham makes the final call.  There are some questions raised about professionalism and friendships, as Bradlee was a friend of the Kennedy’s, which gave him accessibility but also exclusive information, based on his close working relationship.  Would he have maintained that close relationship had he written scathingly critical articles?  Did that friendship prohibit criticism?  Graham was asked to do the same with McNamara, who was a close personal friend.  Would she betray that friendship with a revealing exposé?  There’s an interesting dialogue between the two as they discuss the fracturing viewpoints about the war, like how could he continue to send young men and women into combat for nearly a decade knowing their situation was hopelessly unwinnable?  Once Graham gives the decision to print, the film turns into Sam Fuller’s jingoistic PARK ROW (1952), an expression of Americana and patriotism released during the McCarthy era, with the press laying the groundwork of the moral fabric of the nation.  With Nixon’s own paranoid voice heard on telephone calls, the film telegraphs its true target, the sitting President in the White House, categorizing journalists as ‘fake’ or ‘dishonest’ in his attempts to delegitimize mainstream media outlets, ordering his attorney general to crack down on government whistleblowers, a man who views the Justice Department, the Pentagon, and all his cabinet members, as well as every member of his own political party as exclusively serving him, protecting the President’s interests, pledging allegiance to him, viewing himself as an absolute monarchy, like a man who would be king. 

Not only The Post, but fifteen other newspapers received copies of the report and began publishing as well.  Moving quickly to the Supreme Court, in a 6-3 decision, reading from the majority opinion:  “In the First Amendment the Founding Fathers gave the free press the protection it must have to fulfill its essential role in our democracy.  The press was to serve the governed, not the governors.”  While the message is clear, the problem with the film is just how old-fashioned it feels, with a John Williams musical score that reeks of ordinary, where the credibility of the war sequences, the street demonstrations, or even the bad hair and make-up, are reduced to pure artifice and cliché, resembling movies shot on back lots, without expressing an ounce of reality.  As a journalistic exposé, this isn’t even in the same universe as Tom McCarthy’s much more compelling Spotlight (2015), though Josh Singer co-wrote both.  Ever the moralist, Spielberg turns this into a melodramatic tearjerker, placing all the emphasis on turning Graham into a feminist role model, creating a wall of women completely in awe on both sides of her as she walks down the steps of the Supreme Court, typical heavy-handed stuff from this director, known for telegraphing his emotional intent, anointing yet another patriotic hero image, or in this case heroine.  It’s not until the end of the film that Graham actually stands up to the men protesting her decision as reckless, including Fritz and Parsons, finally finding her own footing.  At the time, few women had run nationally prominent newspapers in the United States (According to “The Status of Women in the U.S. Media 2017, women today run three of the top 25 newspaper titles in the U.S. and only one of the top 25 around the world), women were barred from even receiving press credentials at the White House until 1971, yet the subsequent newspaper coverage of escalating national events quickly changed all that, ushering in a new era, with The Washington Post winning 47 Pulitzer prizes, nearly all of them coming after the period covered in the film, including the infamous Woodward and Bernstein reporters that broke the Watergate scandal, with a bungled Watergate burglary depicted at the end of the film, exactly where Alan J. Pakula’s ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (1976) begins.  It should be noted, however, as the film avoids this story completely, that the Pulitzer Prize in journalism for the year 1971 was awarded not to The Post, but to The New York Times for their publication of “The Pentagon Papers.”