The Phantom, in fairness, needs to warn the reader of his soft spot for Indians, American Indians, or, as they are politically correctly called, "Native Americans," a term which gives the Phantom dyspepsia.
This means the Phantom has watched "Little Big Man" and Daniel Day Lewis in "Last of the Mohicans" and "Dances with Wolves" so often the CD's are beginning to complain, and sometimes simply refuse to play.
It should also be known the Phantom understands these representations of the American Indian and his culture are Hollywood's version.
Once, driving through the Four Corners area, across an Indian reservation, the Phantom encountered actual, present day American Indians who were either openly hostile to his presence or remarkably kind and welcoming, but in either case, were not at all the Hollywood Indian tribe he had previously come to know and love.
In college, the Phantom got into anthropology and loved ethnographs--descriptions of cultures by anthropologists who tried to see an alien culture through scientific eyes, which is to say, objectively, and anthropologists got into endless arguments about whether seeing another culture "objectively" is even possible.
Beyond that, the Phantom tried to read "Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee" but got so angry at the US government he could never finish it.
And whenever he can find that rare book which depicts what American Indians were actually up to, he has read and re read it: "Empire of the Summer Moon," (SC Gwynne) being one of the rare examples.
Books like this surprise you, and feed you new knowledge: Did you know, for example, the Comanche language had no word for "surrender"? This may explain why Comanches fought to the death every time. The idea of surrender was simply so foreign to them, they could not wrap their head around it. But when you think about it, the notion of surrender is somewhat peculiar: If you find yourself in a fight with a mountain lion or a buffalo, no one is likely to "surrender." And the life of the Plains Indians was a struggle no different when they clashed with other human beings than when they hunted animals. It was always a fight to the death.
So when the Phantom started watching "Woman Walks Ahead," he was halfway won from the outset.
Another concession: The Phantom watched this thing from his treadmill, which is how he watches most things now. (No sense just sitting in a chair when you could be moving.) Watching from the exercise bicycle allows the Phantom to hear all the dialogue without the noise of the treadmill, but this movie was a treadmill movie, so it's possible the Phantom was not in an ideal position to judge.
On the other hand, if the movie could overcome the noise and distraction of the treadmill, it must have something going for it.
Briefly, the story follows a winsome woman portrait painter from Brooklyn, New York, Catherine Weldon, recently widowed, who decides to paint a portrait of Sitting Bull, who was among the chiefs leading Indians against Custer at the Little Big Horn. She has felt herself under the thumb of male domination her whole life and this is her expedition to go forth boldly where others have feared to tread.
Along the way out West, she encounters leering men who assume a woman traveling alone must be of dubious morality and she fends off the clumsy and sometimes violent approaches by men on the railroad, and at the fort town on the Indian reservation. She finds the Indians better behaved, for the most part, than the white settlers who revile her as another one of those East Coast liberals who have never suffered at the hands of the savages.
The writing is restrained, but forceful and her character is admirable without being strident. The case for the Indians is succinctly but effectively made.
But listen to the reviewer of the New York Times, Jeannette Catsoulis:
"Less as a historical record than a fish-out-water-romance. Albeit one that gets no more physical than a desperate cuddle."
The Phantom does not know much about Ms. Catsoulis, but he can see her problem here: She is assigned to see too many movies, and her first impulse is to categorize the movie and then to judge how well, within the confines of the genre chosen, the movie has succeeded. She is offended that the standard expectation of a white woman falling in love with a noble savage does not result in a steamy bedroom, or in this case, tepee scene. This movie just will not behave.
She is not the only reviewer unimpressed by a movie which refuses to do the standard thing. Rotten tomatoes is replete with reviewers who say things like:
"The good intentions it carries out to the plains don't make up for the tentative falseness at its center, a hero who could herself benefit from a portraitist's clear vision."
--The Village Voice
What is this reviewer talking about? As if Catherine Weldon, the actual woman on whom this movie is based, must have had a clear vision before embarking on her expedition. Is that not what exploration is all about--not having a clear vision but being open to new experience?
And others, from "reputable" sources:
This is not "Dances With Wolves." Clearly, its creators were very much aware of that movie and did not want to settle for simply a feminist version of John Dunbar. Of course, there is the feature of an American white who sees something noble and worthwhile in the Indians, and who sees the unvarnished treachery, hate and racism of the white nation which aims to annihilate the Plains Indians.
Every morning, as he gets on the treadmill and begins surfing through the menues on Amazon Prime and Netflix, alighting on one movie or another, the Phantom is impressed by how many movies have been made, but more than that, he is stunned by how many truly awful movies get made. Thus, the need for reviewers to sift through all this rotten chaff becomes apparent.
Someday, maybe artificial intelligence will do this.
But every once in a while, the Phantom stumbles across a movie spurned by the reviewers, who, it must be admitted, are often the classic "C" students, or, worse yet, the "A" students who got into Harvard, Yale or Princeton by being buttoned down and conventional.
When they run across something different, they dismiss.
These are the people who would have spurned Van Gogh, who would have never bought a painting by someone who was simply so much better than the other painters of his time, so much better than any reviewer, he simply floated above their mediocre brains in a stratosphere of his own.
This means the Phantom has watched "Little Big Man" and Daniel Day Lewis in "Last of the Mohicans" and "Dances with Wolves" so often the CD's are beginning to complain, and sometimes simply refuse to play.
It should also be known the Phantom understands these representations of the American Indian and his culture are Hollywood's version.
Once, driving through the Four Corners area, across an Indian reservation, the Phantom encountered actual, present day American Indians who were either openly hostile to his presence or remarkably kind and welcoming, but in either case, were not at all the Hollywood Indian tribe he had previously come to know and love.
In college, the Phantom got into anthropology and loved ethnographs--descriptions of cultures by anthropologists who tried to see an alien culture through scientific eyes, which is to say, objectively, and anthropologists got into endless arguments about whether seeing another culture "objectively" is even possible.
Beyond that, the Phantom tried to read "Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee" but got so angry at the US government he could never finish it.
And whenever he can find that rare book which depicts what American Indians were actually up to, he has read and re read it: "Empire of the Summer Moon," (SC Gwynne) being one of the rare examples.
Books like this surprise you, and feed you new knowledge: Did you know, for example, the Comanche language had no word for "surrender"? This may explain why Comanches fought to the death every time. The idea of surrender was simply so foreign to them, they could not wrap their head around it. But when you think about it, the notion of surrender is somewhat peculiar: If you find yourself in a fight with a mountain lion or a buffalo, no one is likely to "surrender." And the life of the Plains Indians was a struggle no different when they clashed with other human beings than when they hunted animals. It was always a fight to the death.
So when the Phantom started watching "Woman Walks Ahead," he was halfway won from the outset.
Another concession: The Phantom watched this thing from his treadmill, which is how he watches most things now. (No sense just sitting in a chair when you could be moving.) Watching from the exercise bicycle allows the Phantom to hear all the dialogue without the noise of the treadmill, but this movie was a treadmill movie, so it's possible the Phantom was not in an ideal position to judge.
 |
| Catherine Weldon |
On the other hand, if the movie could overcome the noise and distraction of the treadmill, it must have something going for it.
Briefly, the story follows a winsome woman portrait painter from Brooklyn, New York, Catherine Weldon, recently widowed, who decides to paint a portrait of Sitting Bull, who was among the chiefs leading Indians against Custer at the Little Big Horn. She has felt herself under the thumb of male domination her whole life and this is her expedition to go forth boldly where others have feared to tread.
Along the way out West, she encounters leering men who assume a woman traveling alone must be of dubious morality and she fends off the clumsy and sometimes violent approaches by men on the railroad, and at the fort town on the Indian reservation. She finds the Indians better behaved, for the most part, than the white settlers who revile her as another one of those East Coast liberals who have never suffered at the hands of the savages.
 |
| Catherine Weldon's portrait of Sitting Bull |
The writing is restrained, but forceful and her character is admirable without being strident. The case for the Indians is succinctly but effectively made.
But listen to the reviewer of the New York Times, Jeannette Catsoulis:
"Less as a historical record than a fish-out-water-romance. Albeit one that gets no more physical than a desperate cuddle."
 |
| Catherine Weldon |
The Phantom does not know much about Ms. Catsoulis, but he can see her problem here: She is assigned to see too many movies, and her first impulse is to categorize the movie and then to judge how well, within the confines of the genre chosen, the movie has succeeded. She is offended that the standard expectation of a white woman falling in love with a noble savage does not result in a steamy bedroom, or in this case, tepee scene. This movie just will not behave.
She is not the only reviewer unimpressed by a movie which refuses to do the standard thing. Rotten tomatoes is replete with reviewers who say things like:
"The good intentions it carries out to the plains don't make up for the tentative falseness at its center, a hero who could herself benefit from a portraitist's clear vision."
--The Village Voice
What is this reviewer talking about? As if Catherine Weldon, the actual woman on whom this movie is based, must have had a clear vision before embarking on her expedition. Is that not what exploration is all about--not having a clear vision but being open to new experience?
And others, from "reputable" sources:
You leave Woman Walks Ahead thinking the truth would have made a much better movie. Full review
The problem with Woman Walks Ahead is not that it doesn’t stick to the historical record — which most of us didn’t know anyway. It’s that what it does present is so blandly tasteful. Full review
The Phantom was left wondering: Did these reviewers see the same movie he did?
Each seems to try to hold this work of art to standards they think appropriate:
1. Biopic: Does it faithfully represent Ms. Weldon and her life and struggles?
2. Romance: Does she seduce Sitting Bull or he her and are the love scenes steamy enough?
3. Politically Correct Statement: Does it do what Dances With Wolves did in ennobling the Plains Indians?
 |
| Quanah Parker |
The story of Ms. Weldon, as told by Wikipedia is far more florid, one might say, lurid, than the story in Woman Walks Ahead, but this movie is not a portrait of a life as Rembrandt may have done it, but more what Picasso or Van Gogh might have seen.
The essence of a woman who felt crushed by the strictures of being a woman in American society comes through elegantly. As she says, clearly enough, her war is against being relegated to "insignificance." This is a woman who wants to make of her life something meaningful. Sitting Bull tells her she is the only person who can give her life meaning and who can know it when that happens. Theirs is a romance not so much of the flesh but of spirit.
Every morning, as he gets on the treadmill and begins surfing through the menues on Amazon Prime and Netflix, alighting on one movie or another, the Phantom is impressed by how many movies have been made, but more than that, he is stunned by how many truly awful movies get made. Thus, the need for reviewers to sift through all this rotten chaff becomes apparent.
Someday, maybe artificial intelligence will do this.
But every once in a while, the Phantom stumbles across a movie spurned by the reviewers, who, it must be admitted, are often the classic "C" students, or, worse yet, the "A" students who got into Harvard, Yale or Princeton by being buttoned down and conventional.
When they run across something different, they dismiss.
These are the people who would have spurned Van Gogh, who would have never bought a painting by someone who was simply so much better than the other painters of his time, so much better than any reviewer, he simply floated above their mediocre brains in a stratosphere of his own.
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