Bone Tomahawk

And Dreamin' In Your Bunk

When I was down, I kept a list of all these colorful movies I wanted to see. I tried to read every major newspaper, I subscribed to film magazines, I watched TV and I asked around. A lot of time I was attracted to certain filmmakers, or intriguing subject matter, or a plethora of positive reviews. It just so happened that once I heard the words "Kurt Russell" and "Bone Tomahawk" I said, well, that's all I need to hear.

This is a seedy type of independent movie where the visible lesser resources add to a sense of cognitive unease. The characters exist in the "civilized" part of the wild west, but the rooms and beds seem too clean, too crisp. And while Russell is sporting an absolutely gorgeous beard-mustache combo, like everyone else he's entirely too clean for that time period, an era where probably everyone smelled awful.

While this is likely a budgetary decision, it helps contrast the earlier "safer" portion of the narrative. Yes, this is an old fashioned "Cowboys vs. Indians" tale. In this case, the "Indians" are savage in a borderline supernatural manner, mysterious and primitive and all-out cannibals. I'm not sure what this does for the overall "Cowboys vs. Indians" narrative still followed by people who choose to misrepresent American history, other than provide a distraction. In that regard, I suppose it should be judged by the standards of other distractions.

Full disclosure: this is a pretty gnarly distraction. There are some attacks and a kidnapping, the culprits being the clan called “Troglodytes”. This prompts a rescue mission by a group of badasses. Not contemporary badasses with six pack abs and and sharp chins. More like earlier eras, when the likes of Frederic Forrest and Joe Don Baker were considered hardcore dudes. Here, you've got a guy played by the otherwise mild-mannered Richard Jenkins who clearly is more of a sidekick to Kurt Russell, an admittedly annoying and overly chatty member of the team, not to mention one of considerably advanced age. But by the end of the film, he's earned real respect for his bravery and loyalty. Make him an Expendable already.

This is the type of film studios are terrified of making today. It begins slow, filled with characters who believably ramble on about superstitions and preoccupations. The enemy is largely witnessed in shadow, and for a long stretch of time you doubt the allegiances of nearly every character. And then you reach the last half hour, which delves into intense, imaginatively repulsive violence, the type of bloodletting that asks brutal questions about morality when we're all revealed to be lumpy bags of meat.

I spent years thinking of this film, hoping it would be a real experience in grueling terror. Spent years sitting in my bunk, wondering if this would deliver. Knowing it does is tremendously fulfilling. Nothing in life prepares you from the listlessness of sitting in bed, staring at the walls, losing your bearings. In my last spot before the halfway house, we were indoors for most of the pandemic, the windows fogged up, spending every day at basement level. Sure there are books, sure you can write letters. But most of the time, your mind just goes. For some, it doesn’t come back.

A quick word on something interesting I read recently… one of the driving forces of this substack is the idea that this is a moment in time where we are questioning the ideas of criminal justice and what it means to be a “criminal”. There is a must-read piece over at The Bulwark (←click there) from a couple of days ago that lends credence to this curious change, and how it involves the last person to be the President of the United States.

The gist of the piece (and you should definitely read in full) is that voters were polled as to what did or did not seem like a crime, once months ago, and then again after Donald Trump was either found guilty or accused of the crime. The surveys revealed that, for Republicans, the crimes themselves were initially dealbreakers for someone seeking the Presidency. Following the convictions and indictments against Donald Trump, Republican voters suddenly, quite strongly, changed their beliefs. As if to say, it was a crime until one of US did it. The question of who “one of us” is kind of hangs in the air.

Now, I’d like to believe this is because of an evolving stance towards those that have been convicted of crimes. Perhaps being found guilty does not disqualify you as a human being, it does not eliminate your ability to do a certain job. I’d like to believe this.

Photo by Vince Fleming on Unsplash

But I have been in these prisons. I can tell you the disproportionate amount of minorities in these institutions. The suggestion being either minority communities are over-policied due to institutional racism, or that minorities are inherently less moral (which, y’know, go to Hell). And it seems clear that it is difficult for an entire class of people to imagine that a white man who comes from wealth could be a criminal. These people think they know a criminal when they see one, and he doesn’t wear a tie, he doesn’t have a successful reality TV show. The findings of these surveys, coupled with the overwhelming overrepresentation of minorities in prison, should tell you about how criminal justice is used by some Americans to label some people criminals, and some people “patriots.”

Next week, I hope you'll join me for a week of satire!