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I live in the middle of Sioux County, a town called Sioux Center, just a few miles east of the state line, drawn there by the Big Sioux River; but if anyone calls this place "Sioux Country," he'd be dead wrong, unless he were referring to what once was. Some folks with some Sioux blood may well be around, but the veins of most the populace run richly Dutch or Mexican. The Sioux are long gone.
My guess is few here think much about what once was--how, specifically, once upon a time, no white folks lived around here at all, and how, in fact, most of those who did roam the grasslands were red. It's true, of course. But, mostly, history is bunk.
I thought of that a great deal last night as I sat in a theater in Sioux Center and watched Avatar, the film everyone's talking about (which is why I went). For a while, I thought James Cameron had bestowed up us all a marvelous Christmas blessing, retelling a story that we need to hear, a story of land-grabbing that's as undeniable as it was inevitable, I guess, a truly American story--how this rich prairie turned abundant. Today, Sioux County feeds the world, after all. Who needs history?
But if you're Lakota, you don't tell the same story. Few of us white folk think much at all of them, even now, 119 years just about to the day from an bloody event that happened several hours west down Hwy. 18 at a place called Wounded Knee, an event that wasn't a battle at all, but a massacre.
There are times when Avatar, like a rich American parable, comes close to telling that story; there were times when I thought it a blessing.
But it's a movie, not a history lesson--entertainment, not truth. When it's all said and done, Wounded Knee is as forgotten as it ever was because even the most distinct parallels between what happened then and what never happened in the movie simply disappear amid all the marvelous spectacle. What drew me to see Avatar was what everyone is talking about--the spectacle of its phenomenal graphics; and it's incredibly impressive, even though we didn't even see it in 3-D. Often, amid the rich jungle, one almost forgets the story in the opulence of the fairyland. It is truly amazing.
But finally, what counts is the spectacle, what counts is the show; what really matters to Cameron and his audience is action/adventure. The real ticket is to a phenomenon almost toally capable of overwhelms the senses. He's creating experience, not trolling for truth.
It's a show, after all, and a marvelous one at that, a miracle in the making. It's a masterpiece of cinematic artistry, well worth seeing. That's what it is--a show. Nothing less, and, sadly enough, nothing more.
It as gaudy and excessive as, well, one might well expect. In fact, more so.
And it bears less than token resemblance to what happened just a few days short of 119 years ago just down Hwy. 18. When last night, it ended, I'm guessing no one in Sioux Center had a second thought about Wounded Knee.
My guess is few here think much about what once was--how, specifically, once upon a time, no white folks lived around here at all, and how, in fact, most of those who did roam the grasslands were red. It's true, of course. But, mostly, history is bunk.
I thought of that a great deal last night as I sat in a theater in Sioux Center and watched Avatar, the film everyone's talking about (which is why I went). For a while, I thought James Cameron had bestowed up us all a marvelous Christmas blessing, retelling a story that we need to hear, a story of land-grabbing that's as undeniable as it was inevitable, I guess, a truly American story--how this rich prairie turned abundant. Today, Sioux County feeds the world, after all. Who needs history?
But if you're Lakota, you don't tell the same story. Few of us white folk think much at all of them, even now, 119 years just about to the day from an bloody event that happened several hours west down Hwy. 18 at a place called Wounded Knee, an event that wasn't a battle at all, but a massacre.
There are times when Avatar, like a rich American parable, comes close to telling that story; there were times when I thought it a blessing.
But it's a movie, not a history lesson--entertainment, not truth. When it's all said and done, Wounded Knee is as forgotten as it ever was because even the most distinct parallels between what happened then and what never happened in the movie simply disappear amid all the marvelous spectacle. What drew me to see Avatar was what everyone is talking about--the spectacle of its phenomenal graphics; and it's incredibly impressive, even though we didn't even see it in 3-D. Often, amid the rich jungle, one almost forgets the story in the opulence of the fairyland. It is truly amazing.
But finally, what counts is the spectacle, what counts is the show; what really matters to Cameron and his audience is action/adventure. The real ticket is to a phenomenon almost toally capable of overwhelms the senses. He's creating experience, not trolling for truth.
It's a show, after all, and a marvelous one at that, a miracle in the making. It's a masterpiece of cinematic artistry, well worth seeing. That's what it is--a show. Nothing less, and, sadly enough, nothing more.
It as gaudy and excessive as, well, one might well expect. In fact, more so.
And it bears less than token resemblance to what happened just a few days short of 119 years ago just down Hwy. 18. When last night, it ended, I'm guessing no one in Sioux Center had a second thought about Wounded Knee.
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