American Veteran, on PBS

There was a time when just about everyone worked with at least one veteran on their offices or factories. Often, there would be considerably more than one. This was even still true during the years following the Vietnam War, but the shift to an all-volunteer military also led to an unanticipated social and cultural divide. Bridging the gap between veterans and civilians is clearly one of the missions of the four-part American Veteran, which begins this Tuesday on PBS.

Each episode corresponds to a period of service, hosted (via off-camera narration) by prominent veterans. Although there is supplemental historical context going back to the Revolutionary War, the primary focus falls on veterans of WWII through Iraq and Afghanistan. Perhaps the best episode is “The Crossing,” hosted by Marine Corp vet Drew Carey, because it explains the basic training experience, which civvies probably only know from films, like An Officer and a Gentleman. Although Carey served during peace-times, he credits his tenure with making him at his subsequent show business career.

Sen. Tammy Duckworth hosts “The Mission,” which explores the dangers of deployment, both physical and mental. She certainly has the standing to do so, since she was seriously wounded during an RPG attack by Iraqi insurgents. However, it would have been nice to also hear from a GOP veteran like Rep. Dan Crenshaw at some point during the series, even though there is little in her commentary that is overtly political. Regardless, the undeniable emotional crescendo of the episode comes from a WWII Coast Guard veteran, who tearfully recounts his D-Day experience shuttling troops to the carnage on the beaches on an amphibian landing craft.

“The Return,” hosted by actor Wes Studi, examines the challenges of homecoming. We hear a great deal about recent veterans’ struggles with PTSD, but to the credit of writers Stephen Ives and Gene Tempest, this installment also acknowledges the scorn and hostility directed at returning Vietnam veterans by New Left activists.

At some times, it seems like American Veterans compulsively airs out the American military’s dirty laundry, especially when it comes to sexual assault and past discrimination. This is particularly true of the final episode, “The Reckoning,” which generally observes the lingering influence of military service on veterans as the chart their post-service lives. J.R. Martinez is a fitting choice to host, since he has built a successful career as an actor and motivational speaker that he probably never expected when serious burn injuries ended his Army service. However, “The Reckoning” also gives the U.S. military credit for being ahead of society in some of its efforts, as when it racially integrated in 1948.

Road to Paloma: Momoa Rides Through the Mojave

It is like Easy Rider, except there is a reason for the angst and defiance. When Robert Wolf’s mother suffered a brutal attack, the Feds, being Feds, declined to prosecute the case. It was just too much work. However, when Wolf took the law into his own hands, they made his capture a top priority. There will not be a lot of sunsets for the biker and his new traveling companion to ride off into during Jason Momoa’s directorial debut, Road to Paloma (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Wolf is a lot better at being a drifter than the self-destructive rocker, Cash Guirgis. Nevertheless, they ride together for a while, sharing some colorful encounters on the road. Wolf has secretly picked up his mother’s ashes from his estranged reservation policeman father, to spread in accordance with her wishes. Anticipating he might do something like that, Special Agent Williams grabs a reluctant local white copper and heads into the Mojave after him.

Wolf and Guirgis will see some scenery worthy of John Ford on their journey, stopping along the way for some bare-knuckle brawling and a little bit of loving. For Guirgis that means lap-dances, but Wolf prefers using his mechanical skill to seduce Magdalena and her broken down vintage car. It is nice for a while, but it the law is never far behind.

Frankly, Paloma is far more sensitive and moodier than you would expect from Jason Momoa’s WWE-distributed motorcycle-powered directorial debut. Small in scope, it is much more closely akin to his Sundance series The Red Road than Game of Thrones or Conan. They both feature Native themes, as well Momoa’s wife, Lisa Bonet. Regardless, Paloma’s cinematic vistas and alienated vibe are surprisingly effective. On the other hand, Momoa largely wastes the timelessly cool character actors Lance Henriksen and Wes Studi (who has a bit more to do than the former).

As his own lead, Momoa is a serviceable renegade-brooder. He also generates some decent heat with Bonet, as well they should. Even in his brief scenes, Studi shows everyone how it is done, but it might co-writer Robert Homer Mollohan who makes the strongest impression as the reckless Guigis. Unfortunately, Timothy V. Murphy’s unapologetically serpentine Williams just does not ring true. Feds are nothing if not politically astute, so the degree he goes about antagonizing local law enforcement feels more like a clichéd contrivance.

Although it has some swagger, Paloma is not a meathead movie. It is a rather dark, character-driven affair that has a real point to make. Essentially, Momoa, Mollohan, and co-writer Jonathan Hirschbein suggest federal jurisdiction over crimes committed by outsiders on reservation land has created an incentive for predators to prey on Native victims. That is the good old Federal government at work. Recommended on balance, Road to Paloma opens this Friday (7/11) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Southern and Slightly Gothic: The Undying

Dr. Barbara Haughton’s personal life is in a very bad place. The two men in her life are a comatose white trash thug and the ghost of a Confederate soldier. Somehow she manages to entwine herself in a love triangle with them both in Steven Peros’s The Undying (trailer here), which is now available on DVD from MTI Home Video.

Still blaming herself for the death of her fiancé, Haughton has rented a converted farm house in the far exurbs. Reputedly, it is haunted by the ghost Elijah Permenter, a Johnnie Reb killed by marauding union soldiers, along with his lover. Obviously, this is last place Haughton should live, but she takes it anyway. Before long, the spirit is doing all those little spooky ghost things, but she stays, increasingly enthralled by the picture of Permenter that came with the crib.

Meanwhile back at the hospital, Haughton is also strangely drawn to Jason Donovan, a mean cuss with a long history of violence, rendered brain dead by a recent altercation. Happy to be well rid of him, his wife approves pulling the plug. Acting on impulse, Haughton attempts resuscitation. Low and behold, up pops Permenter in Donovan’s body. Or is it? That is the film’s central question.

Rather than holding the formerly dead Donovan for observation, Haughton takes him home. One might think a mid-sized hospital would miss a dead body, but it takes them a while to notice. Frankly, for an educated woman Haughton does not appear to really think through the consequences of her actions. Her boss, the hard-drinking, sexually-harassing Dr. Lassiter, does not either, also acting like an anachronism from a bygone era in his own unappealing way.

Peros aims more for a Ghost Whisperer vibe than the terrrors of The Exorcist throughout this tale of love and possession. Often pretty to look at, there are some effectively eerie scenes in the first act and Robert F. Smith’s gauzy cinematography nicely suits the love from beyond the grave themes. However, it is devilishly hard buying into any of the relationships, dead or alive.

As Haughton, Deadwood’s Robin Weigert is a fairly bland woman-in-jeopardy protagonist. At least Anthony Carrigan certainly looks like a redneck lowlife as Donovan. Fortunately, the ever cool Wes Studi is on hand to grace the film with his dynamic presence, even though he is not provided any backstory or distinctive character traits to work with as Lt. Frank Wascoe.

Peros shows a real aptitude for establishing a gently otherworldly atmosphere in his sophomore feature outing Footprints, a small picture that nicely appreciates in memory with the passage of time (which in fact, is currently playing at the Roxie in San Francisco). One can see hints of that scene-setting skill in Undying, but it is mostly just a conventional paranormal romance. For non-discriminating fans of the light-supernatural, it is now available on DVD.

NAFV Fest: The Trail of Tears

History can be messy, but that is when it is usually most interesting. Such is the case in Chris Eyre’s The Trail of Tears, the third installment of We Shall Remain (series trailer here), an upcoming five-film series running in conjunction with PBS’s American Experience, starting April 13th. A complete self-contained film with some legitimate star-power, Trail had its U.S. premiere as the opening night feature of the 2009 Native American Film and Video Festival, held at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian in lower Manhattan.

Eyre became an overnight star of the Indie film circuit with Smoke Signals, his feature directorial debut, and has since helmed high profile television projects, including adaptations of Tony Hillerman’s Joe Leaphorn mysteries for PBS. Mixing elements of the dramatic feature film with the traditional talking-head documentary, Trail reunites Eyre with the super-bad Wes Studi, recognizable for roles such as Leaphorn and supporting turns in Michael Mann’s Heat and Last of the Mohicans. While Studi, an Oklahoman Cherokee, has portrayed many Native American characters on film, Trail represents his first Cherokee speaking role.

Studi plays Major Ridge, a Cherokee leader who remains controversial to this day for his actions leading up to the Trail of Tears. Eyre made a conscious editorial decision to eschew a traditional victimization narrative, instead focusing on Ridge, his son John, and their chief rival, John Ross, the duly elected Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation, and their actions surrounding the infamous trek. Indeed, very little screen-time is devoted to the incident itself, which everyone should understand was a great tragedy. Instead, Eyre provides context, which means viewers actually might learn something.

Major Ridge was a prominent Cherokee leader, who owned a southern plantation, and yes, a good number of slaves. A one-time ally of Ross, he was one of the signers of the Treaty of New Echota, which formally ceded the Cherokee land in Georgia and Tennessee in exchange for territory in Oklahoma, at a time when Ross was still trying to hold off the Federal Government. Ridge led the first wave of Cherokee settlers shortly thereafter, in what would be a much easier journey than the forced removal that was soon to come.

Eyre’s film seems to suggest Ridge believed the preservation of Cherokee sovereignty as a nation should be their highest priority, whereas for Ross, the integrity of their National homeland was the key to their survival. After watching Trail it is difficult to argue that either man was definitively right or wrong. What emerges is a nuanced picture that forthrightly depicts several instances of internal violence during the power struggle between the Ridge and Ross factions. It also acknowledges not all white Americans were villains, identifying support for the Cherokee cause among Northern National-Republicans (precursors of the Whigs and eventually the GOP), as well as the Christian missionaries living amongst them. However, Andrew Jackson understandably comes across quite badly, the case of “Indian Removal” not being the finest hour for Jacksonian Democrats in retrospect.

Studi is perfectly cast as Ridge, a complicated man of action. Despite the interrupting interview segments and Benjamin Bratt’s narration, he maintains an intensity that drives the dramatic scenes. Avoiding the siren call of misery porn, Eyre has made an even-handed film that educates rather than lectures. Trail will be broadcast nationally as part of We Shall Remain, beginning next month. The NAFV Festival continues throughout the weekend at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian. Admission is free, but reservations are recommended.

(Photo: Billy Weeks)