The Exiles

A belated attempt at an American neorealism or rather peaceful protest against the chintz and artifice of Hollywood with a document of the down and out who the movies were never about, either way this film about a group of young indians eking out a living in downtown Los Angeles is a rare artifact and an amazing find.

The lives; equal parts mundane and exciting, wearily enthusiastic at the prospect of another night where nothing but time flies and the same people are bolted down in the same bar stools. Beer bottles change hands over cheap formica counters, people dance, look around bored, smile at looking and being looked, saunter and stroll around aimless. During most of this the woman is back in a movie theater catching a late-night show. At some point the lights come up and intermission music plays from the speakers as sleepy patrons stretch and look around with drowsy eyes; it's that kind of movie. The moments no self-respecting Hollywood movie would bore its audience with, here strung up to see what kind of life they make up.

But most importantly, what precious, valuable poem about a Los Angeles that is no more. Not the Los Angeles imagined by Hollywood, the movie version as a fantastical den of iniquity where sultry femme fatales seduced schmucks in Spanish-style mansions. The real deal, where people lived. Cinema verite as it were, purporting the revelation of some truth in turn.

What truth here is all in the image. We can cobble together a view of the historic past but never before the invention of the camera lens did we have the actual thing rich with so much texture and detail, the magical contradiction of living ghosts (people or places).

Come to this not to be a told a story about these people. Ordinary anxieties of the displaced the same as everywhere else, the young and restless with too much time. Come to this to inhabit for a while, to sit around and listen. Compare with what LA we are thrown into 30 years later in Falling Down.

In the extras of the pristine restoration conducted by the UCLA, we find a 1956 student short about Bunker Hill, the neighborhood depicted. It's perhaps even better than the actual film. Interviewed are actual residents as we see footage of day-to-day lives, old men all about to be swept aside with their old world. They like to watch the public works constructed in the area, the ones will eventually push them out.

This was one of the first films to deal with the contemporary lives of Native Americans. It's still one of the very few pieces to deal with the Native urban diaspora, in this case in the no-longer existing LA neighborhood of Bunker Hill, in 1961.

More broadly, "Exiles" is a film about displacement, and finding oneself in a state of displacement, of having one's truest self be the displaced self. It focuses on a young, married couple who hardly see each other. The husband is out cavorting and fighting with other young quasi- hooligans. The wife is mostly alone, or abandoned at the cinema. The only scene where we sense that she is bonding with anybody is when she is in bed, in an officially asexual way, with a girlfriend.

As an empathetic depiction of the alienation that occurs when people are divorced from their (essentially extinct) culture, one cannot help but admire the film. Yet, I was left with the troubling sense that its depiction of characters driven to cling to each other based on the most basic similarities, such as tribe,race, and, perhaps most importantly in the eyes of the filmmakers, gender, was decidedly heteronormative. I wouldn't go so far as to call the film homophobic. The only brazenly gay characters, a couple of dudes dancing in a "straight" bar, are depicted in a neutral light. Yet, the isolation of man from woman, and "debauched" same-sex mingling are depicted as the prime symptoms of alienation under colonialism and capitalism. This attitude was all too common amid leftists in the era that the film was made.

For contemporary viewers, perhaps the most rewarding thing about The Exiles is its luscious black and white cinematography of the now destroyed Bunker Hill district of Los Angeles. As a documentary extra on the DVD further attests, Bunker Hill was a dynamic, multinational district that was home to immigrant families and retired professionals. Soon after this movie was completed, the neighborhood was bulldozed in an attempt to "improve" LA. In this way, the film seems like a depiction of two fallen cultures: the exiles of crushed Native American culture inhabiting an urban landscape that is itself now only a celluloid ghost.

The main good points I'd like to pass on are for the benefit of those not having seen this movie.The older you are the more you may like seeing this on location film from 1961.Even for someone like me not familiar with the film location there will be things to remember,the cars,advertising,beer bottles,etc.Probably the most important point to the movie is that these Native Americans are in a new enviorment having come from the reservation,something different for that time period.The movie reflects their being between two different worlds. One of my favorite parts is when about three Indians enter a bar and greet many there warmly and one at a time. It's worth it to see the movie for the reasons previously mentioned.That being said I couldn't watch this movie without pondering questions..How much of the movie is reality? How much is drama? Is this a Friday night or every night/morning? Where does the money come from? Are they all from the same tribe? Not trying to pass off myself as a Native American expert/I speak the language but from the ones I've known it seems like at times different tribes don't get along.That's why I was wondering if the large groups in the movie were all from the same tribe.Despite the unanswered questions it's an interesting film.

This is a film that certainly won't appeal to the average person. However, despite this, it is an interesting and important film. The movie began as a school project at USC and eventually resulted in this small-time picture. It's about a group of displaced American-Indians who are living in Los Angelese. Unfortunately, their sense of purpose and work ethic have become lost in the transition from the reservation. This film documents a 24-hour stretch in their rather purposeless lives. As a piece of history and commentary it's very important stuff, though it's also the type stuff that is dreadfully dry. Seeing people going about their lives as you hear voice-overs and see dialog crudely inserted (it almost never matched the lip movements of the characters and was sloppy) becomes a bit of a drag after a while. A noble fictionalized documentary but one for which you really have to have a lot of patience in order to enjoy.

Astonishing slice of cinema verite at a time when young filmmakers were trying to break the Hollywood habit in favor of the real world. The 70 minutes are not entertaining; however, they do fascinate. It's a nighttime of boozing carousal for several young Indian men amid the neon jungle of downtown LA. The camera tracks their aimless wanderings and endless drinking from one seedy venue to the next. It's LA like you've seldom seen it—a down-and-outers look at unvarnished urban decay. The faces too are fascinating, not like the usual Hollywood Indian or crowd scene extras.

It's a disturbing look, slow to accumulate until the poignant final shot. These are truly lost people, caught between two incomplete worlds-- the urban jungle of the white man and the captive reservation of the Indian. The men seem to treat most everything as a joke, perhaps a way of denying the dead-end reality of their lives. Ironically, they appear now to be strangers in their own land. It's the young Indian woman Yvonne, however, who's likely to evoke audience sympathy. It's she who dreams (her inner thoughts vocalized in voice-over) of a family and something like a normal life. But, the men in her life are truly lost, so her hopes appear doomed as well. Seeing this document may help viewers better understand the controversial American Indian Movement (AIM) of the 1970's.

Apparently, the project spanned several years of interrupted funding. Thus, the film has to be an artistic commitment of a high order on the part of filmmaker MacKenzie. Did he hope for a commercial release. A story and technique like this would seem to hold little promise of that. Did he hope for art house distribution and an appeal to the intelligentsia. Whatever the motivation, he's produced a document of lasting social value, and thanks be to TMC for bringing MacKenzie's achievement to today's audiences