By: Sia Garg, SFU Student
While June is National Indigenous History Month in the north of Turtle Island (Canada), reflection on the history of dispossession, resilience, and ongoing reconciliation should not be limited to a month alone. If you’re looking for a way to honour and promote such efforts from home, I believe the most accessible place to start is through cinema, and what better piece to start with than a good-humoured, scrappy comedy about four teenagers living on the Muscogee Nation reserve in Oklahoma?
Reservation Dogs, created by Sterlin Harjo and Taika Waititi, ran for three seasons, and is available to stream for free right now on CBC Gem. It follows four Indigenous teenagers, Elora Danan, Willie Jack, Bear Smallhill, and Cheese as they steal, scheme, and dream their way towards California, a place they have mythologized as an escape from a life that feels like it’s closing in. Hovering over their plans is the absence of a fifth member, Daniel, whose death before the show’s start continues to haunt the narrative.
The show is first and foremost funny and lighthearted. It possesses a weird, specific humour that only comes from people telling stories about their own tightly-knit communities. Harjo, who grew up in Holdenville, Oklahoma, spent years making films about the world he knew. When you watch Reservation Dogs, you can feel the lived-in specificity in every scene: the particular rhythm of bored teenagers who are killing time, while also perhaps creating just a little bit of mischief around the reserve, the texture of family relationships spanning across generations, and the gallows humour that emerges in communities that have had to find ways to survive.
This series marks a massive milestone for Indigenous representation, as Reservation Dogs was the first American TV series to have an entirely Indigenous cast and crew. As Harjo put it at the Film Independent Spirit Awards, “We told stories about home and they were all funny, and there was nothing on TV that was funny that had Natives in it.” Reservation Dogs fills that gap seamlessly and without apology.
Reservation Dogs was not created to fill the role of a guide on the lives of Indigenous communities in the US, instead, it occupies its world with what The Hollywood Reporter has described as “lived-in charm,” trusting viewers to keep up. The Elders are hilarious, and the spirit guide, played by the Dakota environmental activist Dallad Goldtooth, is a sarcastic, swearing spirit of a warrior who upends just about every tiring “mystical Indigenous ancestor trope” that continues to plague the cinematic world.
The show has been positively remarked upon by Indigenous viewers who have greatly enjoyed seeing their lives on screen as opposed to an overly romanticized or tragic caricature.
Reservation Dogs offers something much more mundane and much more true to life; teenagers arguing about everyday things, bad plans going worse, and moments of unexpected warmth between people who know each other too well to pretend.
The episodes run about 25 minutes each and I have found it’s an easy watch; I can think of no better way to spend a few relaxing evenings this summer and beyond.
