Navajo Whispering

WINDTALKERS (2002)

NAVAJO WHISPERING

Director John Woo knows how to best utilize actor Nicolas Cage—having worked with him in FACE/OFF--one only gives him minimal dialogue. Cage does a great job playing a taciturn shell of a man, and he is quite comfortable with the action scenes. Woo’s epic scale battle scenes were very well staged, full of roving dolly and crane shots—swinging across a vast panorama of blood, steaming steel on mortar, tanks, and artillery—flashing swords, bayonets, and hunting knives—and the rolling red-orange fire clouds of gargantuan explosions. Most of the action took place on the home island of Saipan —with the Japanese troops dug in—and they were tenacious frenzied fanatics. Oddly, though, the Japanese troops are shown as poor shots, which are easily duped, and easily defeated, in hand-to-hand combat. Then they are slaughtered wholesale—like cardboard cut-outs in a shooting gallery—like the Indians in all Westerns prior to 1960—mowed down as nearly faceless and soulless fodder.

The writing by John Rice and Joe Batteer is two-dimensional at best. The primary weakness of the script is that after introducing the fabulous hook—the little known story of the Navajo code talkers—the authors do not fully explore it. Some critics were unhappy with the tacked on prologue and epilogue—both filmed the magnificent Monument Valley —but for me those scenes perfectly frame the training and battle scenes. I think those early and late scenes were all that seemed to breathe in the world of 1944. They have a nice texture and a real feel for the 40’s. Much of the rest of the film seems too contemporary. We are told that our marines are fighting the Japanese—but it could have just as easily been the North Koreans or the North Vietnamese.

A good troupe of actors struggled with the shallow script. Nicolas Cage was very effective as the shell-shocked battle-fatigued neurotic tortured Sgt. Joe Enders. He spent a lot of film time flicking his Zippo lighter, smoking, and just staring sad-eyed—as only Nicolas Cage can—out into space—and it does work for his character. Adam Beach, a veteran of several films about Native Americans is excellent as protagonist Ben Yahzee. It has been written that he “smiled a lot”—and yes, he did—but never as a dolt—it always appeared sincere. Yahzee was a good man, with a huge heart—who would be forced in the bloody cauldron of battle to become a better man—a stronger man—a wiser man. He would watch many of his friends die, and he would have to slay many of the enemy. Roger Willie, as his buddy, Charlie Whitehorse—who is a real Navajo—debuted in this film—and he made a solid impact.

The movie fell short—missed the mark—missed out on classic status—primarily because not enough of the film was about these Native American characters. It was supposed to be “their story”—and they became secondary players within the fabric of it. Nick Cage’s character became the Sgt. Rock of the piece. The film would have been better if the character of Sgt. Enders had become more secondary—more peripheral. Artistically—this did not need to be a “Nicolas Cage” vehicle. Of course, financially, in the mainstream movie world—I‘m sure it was a different story. But as a smaller budget Independent film that focused more on the Navajos—this movie would have soared like an eagle. As it is now—it flutters like a parakeet.

Francis O’Conner, as the sympathetic nurse love-interest for Cage, was gratuitous—and wasted. She is a good actress who was tossed aside by poor plotting. Christian Slater, as Pete “Ox” Anderson , found some effective screen time—managing to breathe life into a clichéd role—creating fine moments out of thin air. His harmonica duets with Charlie Whitehorse’s flute could have been a much stronger motif—but that too was handled poorly—and it just got lost in the din—it was drown out by the staccato of machine guns and the basal pounding of mortars. Peter Stormare—wild-eyed and thickly-accented—found the pulse of his character, squad leader Sgt. Gunny Hjelmstad.

One of the major plot components involved orders to kill Navajos rather than let them be captured—and possibly compromise the code. This too was more lip service than reality. It could have been the stuff of real drama—but it was handled like the brass was referring to burning documents or destroying equipment. It did not seem to have the ring of authenticity. Why, first of all, were there two very valuable Windtalkers put in harm’s way? It was another example of the mish-mash logic of the writing. How could we care about these Indian characters if we didn’t know more about them? Even the rampant clichés regarding racism would have been better served if we had seen more of the story from the Navajo’s perspective.

Perhaps some day the Navajo’s story will be more accurately depicted. It surely is a story worth the telling. Within this film, that “story” was only hinted at and glossed over. But despite the rough edges, illogical plotting, and clichéd characters—this movie packed a solid punch—and it stirred the blood to sit through it. It is an above average WWII war movie, and it is well worth the viewing. I would rate it at 3 stars.

Glenn Buttkus 2002