A Random Movie: Songs My Brothers Taught Me (2015)
We need more Indigenous stories on our screens
I have access to a preposterously large number of movies. I’ve decided to take a random number generator, pick a movie, watch it, and write about it. Today’s film: Songs My Brothers Taught Me (2015).
Most of the time, this feature is used as a jumping off point. Yes, it’s about a movie. I watched the movie, but I don’t review a movie. In our quality and ratings obsessed world, I don’t see much value in me saying whether or not a movie is good. It’s about how the movie fits into the world overall. What does the film inspire in me? What does it say? Where does my mind go when I think about it? Sometimes I keep on task, and talk about the film itself, and sometimes I launch off into something else entirely. I use the movie as a prompt, a starting point. A story is one thing, where does this film fit in the world?
Is this an excuse for this piece, ostensibly about Songs My Brothers Taught Me, only barely being about Songs My Brothers Taught Me? Chloe Zhao launched out the gate with a clear point of view and style. We get a glimpse into the life of Johnny (John Reddy) and Jashaun (Jashaun St. John), two kids on the Pine Ridge Reservation. The children of a prolific procreator - 25 kids from 9 women - the kids just wander through life, Johnny selling alcohol to people in the dry community, Jashaun eventually helping out tattooed miscreant Travis (Travis Lone Hill) with his art business - before he’s eventually arrested. Johnny wants to go off to California, Jashaun doesn’t seem to have any real plans because she’s almost 12.
The incidents of the movie don’t make a ton of difference, it’s a movie about people existing. Apart from Eternals, which was a wild career swerve, Zhao’s films are like beautifully shot eavesdropping. She often uses nonprofessional actors, plots are threadbare, but they work because she has interesting characters who simply exist. In interviews, she has said that much of the work is based on the real life of Reddy, and that the majority of people on screen are from the community. This is usually what she does - apart from, again, Eternals - finding compelling people and structuring a movie around them, even if there’s not much beyond the people themselves. In some ways, her followup - The Rider - is a sequel, entirely because that movie is built around someone she met while filming this.
In a just world, this would have been a launching pad for John Reddy - his only other credit is a music video. He’s an incredibly charismatic and interesting actor, and he’s a big reason why the film is as compelling as it is. This is a showcase of how interesting he is as an actor, and he’s someone you’re rooting for even when you don’t completely know why. Jashaun St. John also has minimal credits, though she’s appearing in two films which have yet to be released. The majority of the cast doesn’t even have a picture on IMDB.
Maybe the cast didn’t really want to be in other movies, maybe they just thought it was fun to show up here and then go back to their regular lives - it’s not like this was a huge budget production. But when someone is the lead in a compelling film where the director went on to do big things, you expect the cast to have risen to the top with her. Reddy and St. John seem like they should have been able to launch into a career.
The problem, as far as I can see it, is that they’re running against a common Hollywood problem: Indigenous people are not given the chance for their stories. What’s going to be Reddy’s next star vehicle? He’s a young Indigenous man in an entertainment industry where being Indigenous isn’t of interest.
What else could he be doing? What stories could he be telling? Could he be the lead in a romantic comedy? A hero of a horror film? More serious adult drama? He’s a bit small for an action film, but he could probably do that too, couldn’t he? He could be in films where his Indigenous identity is at the forefront - such as this one - or in films where it’s not, and he’s cast because he’s compelling above all else.
But this is his only feature credit, that feels like a total waste.
Why aren’t there more Indigenous film stars? Indigenous film directors? Indigenous screenwriters and cinematographers and more? Only this year Lily Gladstone was the first Indigenous nominee for Best Actress, and the Oscars have been going for nearly 100 years. Why not more?
It’s also very rare that Indigenous stories are actually told without being sifted through someone else’s experience. Zhao created a film with Indigenous actors, in a reservation, without forcing someone white onto the screen, and that’s one of the most successful parts of the film. It was refreshing that it wasn't hidden behind a white point of view character, that we weren't forced to filter the story through a white experience. And I say that as someone who is whiter than the driven snow. A genetic test revealed that I’m the product of a bunch of Germans and a single Swedish guy who got lost.
Zhao herself is Chinese-American, so it's still filtered through her perspective, but she recognizes that her movie isn't about her. She's there to tell the story, but it's not her story. She respects the culture, she respects everyone on screen, and she’s not trying to take their story from them.
It’s a lack of respect paid to another culture when they just can’t tell their stories. This is especially true when it’s the lack of Indigenous stories - it’s a culture with a strong oral storytelling tradition, why aren’t they more prominent on our screens? There’s a rich history to draw from, there are a ton of different perspectives on the present day, and who knows how these neglected storytellers could predict the future.
This is no knock against Zhao. She's still stepping up here, she's respecting the culture she depicts and allowing them to take a lead role.
Not to wrap it back to ol’ whitey here, but I also feel a bit of a lack of respect when I see how the majority of these stories are told. There’s always a white perspective, a white character at the forefront or as the point of view. It feels as though they don’t trust me to get it if I don’t see a white person on screen. I don’t need to see myself depicted in order to understand. I want to see someone’s own depiction of their own culture. It’s not about me, it’s not my story, and that’s the point. I want stories that tell me about someone else, I already know my own stories. Tell me yours.
That’s what I mean by this being a launching point. Songs My Brothers Taught Me is a movie worth watching, but the most compelling parts just end here. We have a film with a cast of excellent actors with stories to tell, and who would be amazing at telling the stories of others. And they’re denied a chance to do so because the film industry just doesn’t seem interested.
This launched Zhao’s career, why didn’t it launch anyone else’s?