WHAT’S IT ABOUT: We’re smack dab in the middle of the American Civil War and all is not well for Lt. John J. Dunbar (Kevin Costner), wounded in battle and about to lose his foot. Finding that outcome not so appealing, he instead chooses death. Returning to the rather uneventful action where a standoff keeps both sides reduced to taunts, he soon mounts a nearby horse named Cisco and rides to the enemy, hoping a bullet will find its mark. It doesn’t and instead of dying a martyr’s death, becomes a hero when his stomp to suicide serves as distraction, allowing his troops to overwhelm the Southern shooters. Doc’s save his leg and he’s given any tour of duty he wishes … and the horse he stole.
Out west he goes, longing to see it before it disappears. Given leadership of a distant post called Fort Sedgewick, he arrives to find no one there and sets about to re-establish the base, alone at first. With limited provisions, he awaits reinforcements, but circumstances as they are, is believed lost to the wilds. In time, he makes contact with local Sioux, who at first attempt to rile him from his roost, but as things progress, becomes friends, so much so that Dunbar joins their ranks, even falling in love with a white woman (Mary McDonnell) who had been adopted by the tribe as a little girl years before. But his past is soon to find him and there is one more battle to win.
BRIEF REVIEW: While the film earned plenty of controversy for a number of historical and narrative concerns, it still earned 7 Academy Awards (including Best Picture) and was honored for much in helping to reshape the image of Native Americans on screen, despite some inaccuracies. It’s epic, sweeping cinema the likes of which few ever attain, a broad, challenging film that captures great majesty in the telling of a rather simple tale.
What succeeds most about the movie is Costner’s (who stars and directs) beautiful attention to detail, from the interiors of his hut at the fort to the now iconic buffalo hunt and beyond. What’s more, the characters who live in this world are so richly-defined and given so much room to evolve, we feel great empathy for their plight. We are absolutely transported to this time and place, witness to a deeply enigmatic chapter in history, and no matter your feelings on the story itself, is nonetheless some of the highest caliber filmmaking there ever was. Dances With Wolves is truly a masterpiece.
THAT MOMENT IN: We’ve already written about a terrific moment with Stands With A Fist (McDonnell), making her one of cinema’s most memorable supporting characters, but let’s talk about the opening sequence, one that establishes the main character’s motivation. It’s a harrowing start to be sure, yet is crucial in immediately setting landmarks into who and what John J. Dunbar is.
From the credits, we’re at a near POV shot looking down the prone and bloodied body of Dunbar as he lies on an operating table just outside the battles lines of St. David’s Field in Tennessee. Two men are attending to his right leg, though we don’t see their faces. They are exhausted as all around them lay the ruins of war. Not giving Dunbar any chances to save the foot, they decide to take a short break and ‘coffee up’ before taking to the saw. Ouch.
It’s this moment where John has a sort of peek into his future, seeing the wounded and legless nearby. Choosing to give up his life instead of being mutilated, he struggles to a sitting position and (in a terribly hard thing to watch) slips on a boot over his mangled foot.
He then makes his way back to the deadlock between the Union on one side and Confederates across the sloping field. A few scattered shots are fired but the two are seemingly at an impasse as neither can reach the other and none are charging. John decides he sees his chance to shed his mortal coil, mounting a horse and riding into the fray of Southern musket balls.
DIGNITY IN DEATH: The gruesome hospital shot is a smart way to start, especially as it avoids the war trope of bloody battle in favor of the consequences. That’s what a lot of this film is about, showing us the aftermath rather than the action, a decisive directorial choice that puts emphasis on the impact instead of the punch.
While the painful imagery of Dunbar slipping on the boot might seems like a bit of unnecessary gore, it’s hardly that at all, itself a crucial hurdle in making the audience understand how important dignity is in John’s decisions, something he strives for in every action he makes. Notice much later, too, when he suits up to meet the Sioux, his decision to don his uniform. He will face death proudly.
ENDING IT ALL: Did you ever notice the apple in this scene? Probably not, since the movie’s just getting going and we’re wondering just what in heck this guy’s up to, but I love the symbolism of it sitting there, bright red on that rock. You know the story of William Tell, I’m sure, and here, Costner subtly places it at the feet of John while the man lying next to it explains how the boys across the way are real shooters. With no target like the apple on his head, Dunbar is making himself the mark.
This sparks within him the drive to end it all, seeing that, like his own life at the moment, everything is in standstill. I really like how Costner creates that momentum, having John see the futility of the conflict, each side huddled into their barricades of belief, leaders on both sides unsure what to do, and men wiling away their time in traumatic stress.
He sees a horse to the side and makes a fateful choice, mounting up and riding into the waiting rifles of those itching for a fight. He gallops across their firing line perhaps not yet fully committed to his deed but surely anticipating a darkness to find him. When he reaches the other side unscathed, the enemy call him back, taunting him to try it again, the men of his army cheering him on. He obliges, and this time, lets go the reigns and spreads his arms to the sky, opening himself to a hail of iron that miraculously never find their marks. In the misdirection, the Union soldiers charge and win the day.
WHY IT MATTERS: The film as a whole mostly swallows up this sensational opening, the length alone making it nearly disappear into the folds of a story filled with memorable encounters. However, there is great significance to the evolution of John Dunbar that can only best be recognized by remembering where he starts. It’s tempting to think of his journey as beginning on the plains once at his isolated outpost, the film itself sort of feeling like that is where it all begins, yet if we track it right from the start, we see that Dunbar has always been about personal sacrifice.
While it might seem defeatist to give up on life after the possiblity of losing a foot, the point is not that Dunbar chooses suicide but that he does so for the sake of others, a statement and action that is not left without notice, as seen on the face of his comrade while he suddenly realizes what Dunbar is doing. It’s a fleeting image but monumental in suggesting what it means. It’s also a shot that Costner could have easily left on the cutting room floor, but wisely leaves in to remind those paying attention of the significance of Dunbar’s ride. It’s a great movie moment.