What better way to start off a new column in Indian Country Today Media Network than to talk about an Indian boy who is hopelessly for—against the weight of supernatural forces, no less—the love of a white girl? What can be more “Indian” than that?
It’s about as natural as an Indian turning into a werewolf (he probably should’ve turned into a little poodle because I think white girls love carrying those around in their purses and petting them heavily).
The latest Twilight movie came out this week. A friend (yes, an adult) asked me if I had any interest in going. I hope he (yes, “he”) was joking.
Of course I was thankful for the offer—I treasure these invitations because most of my friends hate going to movies with me as I routinely try to sneak in a Taco Bell 12 Pack to enjoy with my movie. Evidently, the handfuls of “fire” sauce spilling out of my pockets onto the floor gives me away to the ushers.
By the way, the only thing better than one caramel apple empanadas is six caramel apple empanadas. I’m usually a very healthy eater—you know, Indians have problems with diabetes, so you can never be too careful—still, you have to eat something in the movie theater and the food in theaters isn’t only bad for you, but also expensive.
But I digress.
Point is, I appreciated my friend’s offer. Still, I replied, “If I really wanted to see some Indians running around without their shirts on fighting over women and turning into wild animals, I would go to one of the bars surrounding the host hotel at one of the large fancy Indian conferences. You wanna see real theatrics and tension—go there!” That was just an excuse, of course—I just don’t know how a straight man could justify watching that many consecutive minutes of pretty men walking around looking intense. What’s really scary—definitely not the vampires or the werewolves—is the prospect that I might really like the gratuitous amounts of abdominals—that would cause so much confusion to my sense of self!
Granted, part of the plot apparently does involve an 89 year-old dude (the white vampire kid) hooking up with a much younger girl and sucking on people’s necks, although not necessarily for hickies. Those are a few things that Indian men can relate to.
More, there are real, actual Indians in the movie (and a few fake ones too)—a rarity, and certainly something to be thankful for and to support. GO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL INDIAN ACTORS!!! Still, if the makers could make this movie slightly less, well, estrogenic, I’d love to go support the actors in this movie. As it is, I’d have to wear a trenchcoat and sunglasses and fedora to watch it lest someone think that I’m into movies about teenage necrophilia/bestiality.
In either event, I will cop to the fact that I did see one film in the Twilight series—I think the first one. I haven’t seen the new one because, honestly,
if I’m going to waste my money on a bad movie, I’d at least hope there was some boobs in it I’d rather support a “real” Indian movie (or at least the newest Leonardo DeCaprio flick). Still, I feel qualified to make a review—the outcome? No disrespect to my sisters Missy and Oogie and all the grown Indian women who love the show, but this new Twilight movie really and truly sucks werewolf balls. Therefore, with this inaugural column, I constructively offer you a few options that are very likely infinitely more entertaining than the real thing:
Gyasi Ross is a member of the Blackfeet Nation and his family also belongs to the Suquamish Nation. He recently wrote a book called “Don’t Know Much About Indians (but i wrote a book about us anyways).” You can get it at www.dkmai.com. He also makes a bunch of silly youtube videos and you can see those at www.youtube.com/dkmaibook.