Cate Blanchett, Tommy Lee Jones, Jenna Boyd, Evan Rachel Wood, Eric Schweig, Aaron Eckhart, Val Kilmer, Clint Howard
US DVD: 24 Feb 2004
This whole territory’s gone topsy-turvy: you got Indians running with whites, whites running with Indians.
—Lt. Ducharme (Val Kilmer), The Missing
I found that racism through fear, which is basically what most racism is, an interesting place for [Maggie] to start.
—Cate Blanchett, “New Frontiers: Making The Missing”
At the first moment you see Maggie (Cate Blanchett) on screen in Ron Howard’s The Missing, you know this is one of those Cate Blanchett tough-girl projects. Waylaid in an outhouse, she instructs her young daughter Dot (Jenna Boyd) to stall her current customer by singing a psalm. At the second moment, when Maggie enters that customer’s cabin, your initial guess is confirmed: she’s a “healer” in 1885 New Mexico, scrappy and brave. Maggie fixes her gaze, applies the pliers and yanks. Though the woman wails, her own face remains a picture of seen-it-all determination. As Blanchett notes for the making of documentary on Columbia’s DVD, this two-scene introduction, maybe a couple of minutes long, “immediately establishes kind of the extremities of the world in which Maggie and her family live.”
And yes, Maggie confronts any number of daily difficulties, from chopping wood, to single-parenting her daughters, fractious Lilly (Evan Rachel Wood) and solid citizen Dot, to making time for her stalwart lover Brake (Aaron Eckhart). Not to mention the whole healing business. Her toughness is surely enhanced by Blanchett’s striking cheekbones and fierce eyes. It’s surprising, perhaps, how few stunningly beautiful actors would be as convincing in the intricate, powerhouse roles she’s chosen (for examples, in Elizabeth , The Gift , Charlotte Gray , Heaven , and Veronica Guerin ). Blanchett makes emotional sense of intense adversity in decidedly unflashy performances; she’s simultaneously sympathetic and searing, revealing in instants whole backstories full of pain and tenacity. That she often does so in movies that don’t do her justice makes her achievements more resounding (the elegant scary movie Elizabeth would be the exception).
In The Missing (adapted by Ken Kaufman from Thomas Eidson’s novel, The Last Ride), Maggie’s greatest challenge begins when Brake and the girls don’t return home from a cattle-selling day trip. Lilly’s been kidnapped by a group of Apaches (and a white guy or two), and Brake cooked in a cowskin (this particular reveal, as longtime Howard producer Brian Grazer says, is particularly “effective” because “what happens to Aaron Eckhart is so gruesome and so horrific that it wakes you up”). Once she grapples with that horror, Maggie takes Dot with her to town, to enlist the help of Sheriff Purdy (Clint Howard) and the military.
As the Sheriff has his telegraph operator (Ron and Clint’s father Rance Howard, whom Ron credits with instilling in him proper appreciation for Western movies) tap out a message using the latest technology, Maggie gazes outside, where she sees the fast-approaching future in the form of a voice-recording device, come to town as part of fair. Remembering that she made Lilly work instead of attending the fair, Maggie watches a girl giggle at hearing herself. The reverse shot of Blanchett’s face tells you everything you need to know, in one perfectly composed moment.
Throughout the film, Salvatore Totino’s camera seeks out this face, and it never fails to convey complex emotional mixes. This makes it all the more disappointing that the movie—like so many others before it—doesn’t keep up. That’s not to say that it doesn’t begin with promise. Maggie’s work as a healer grants her a certain experience and insight beyond those of usual women in Hollywood Westerns. It also affiliates her with Samuel Jones (Tommy Lee Jones), her estranged father, whose first appearance at film’s start leads directly to her absolute rejection. He abandoned Maggie, her mother, and little brother 20 years before, in order to follow a hawk he saw in a vision. In other words, he’s been living with the Chiricahua Apaches, and she hates him for his multiple betrayals—of family, race, and nation.
Of course, the crisis of Lilly’s kidnapping means that Maggie needs Jones’ help. For, as it happens, he’s an expert tracker, and that sheriff she went to see offers no help at all, going so far as to tell her that the cavalry is moving in exactly the opposite direction as the kidnappers are headed (the military goes north, and the kidnappers, according to Jones, are going to Mexico where they plan to sell the girls to iniquitous non-English speakers). At least this is what Jones tells her, and though she hates him like poison, Maggie is soon convinced that he is the only one who can (or will) help her. And so, she and Dot pack up their gear and head south with Jones.
The DVD allows another look at this arduous journey, by way of Totino’s tremendous landscapes and dramatic interiors (and another listen to James Horner’s overbearing score). Sadly, Howard doesn’t provide a commentary track, though a second disk does contain a raft of extras, including an outtakes reel (mostly featuring animals); 11 deleted scenes (for instance, a mountainside chat where Maggie recalls her dead brother for Jones, who never knew him; or a funeral with Ducharme when Maggie notices he has a scar from being scalped), and three alternative endings. A collection of interview clips called “Ron Howard On…” has him speaking on subjects ranging from his high school Westerns (featuring his brother Clint, lots of clichés, and rudimentary squibs to emulate The Wild Bunch gore); John Wayne (what he learned when making The Shootist) to “The Conventions of Westerns” (“Movie audiences are just gaining in sophistication, I feel, month by month, and they demand more detail. It’s healthy and it’s exciting”) to “The Filmmaking Process.”
In addition, the DVD includes numerous featurettes: “The Last Ride: The Story of The Missing” (with emphasis on its differences from most Westerns, that is, “It’s not about cattle or land” and features strong women characters); “New Frontiers: Making The Missing” (featuring earnest declarations of mutual respect among the cast and crew); “The Modern Western Score” (with Horner); “Casting The Missing” (in which Eric Schweig, who plays the villain Chiden, observes, “This guy is like a hate junkie. He just keeps piling misery upon misery, because he knows he’s gonna get it, he can only buck the odds for so long, but he’s gonna do as much damage as he can within the little time frame that he has”); and “Apache Language School” (on the set with teachers, including Cochise’s great granddaughter Elbys Hugar).
Obviously carefully researched and historically detailed for the film, Maggie’s saga also draws on legend, especially The Searchers, complete with the protagonist’s racism as well as newfangled complications. While Jones is atoning for his abandonment of his white family and Maggie is learning to value his very useful Indian “magic” (beads and totems, as well as some chanting and conjuring, mixed in with Bible reading by Dot). And while Jones is reading signs and following mystical shadows of hawks, Maggie is equally dedicated to exacting vengeance for any sort of depravity. Her first inclination is to hate her father and the Indians who lured him away, and so destroyed her once stable family. (Howard notes his interest in exploring “her bigotry, her cultural disdain for anything Native”).
But Maggie’s willing to strike back at any offenders. She implores Lt. Ducharme (Val Kilmer, who lives near the shoot and, according to Howard, called up and asked to appear for his three minutes, just because) to help her find Lilly, and is duly deflated but also educated by his indifference, as he watches his men loot the home of a butchered white family. Such crossings of expectations make The Missing a thorny and even compelling story, for a time.
The most outrageous emblem of these thematic and practical difficulties is the head kidnapper in charge, Pesh-Chidin (Eric Schweig), a psychotic Apache brujo (witch) who tosses colored dust into adversaries’ faces to make them blind and bewildered (his face, badly scarred by smallpox, again calls up memories of The Searchers, whose primary Indian villain was Cicatrice [Henry Brand]). That he is also involved in the material banalities of selling white and Indian girls makes his resistance look like crass big pimping. He compounds and complicates this horror with his best trick, wearing photos of his victims pinned to his vest. These little images, at once grimly haunting and glittering in the sun, point toward another recording technology, one that specifically captures faces. Pesh-Chidin deploys this amazing technology by commanding a quaking white photographer to do take pictures of the grimacing, trembling victims. For Pesh-Chidin, such “taking” is a means to possess bodies if not souls, to proclaim the supremacy of his magic and will.
His power is such that he lords over an oddly multi-raced band of marauders and miscreants, an example for the arrogant Lt. Ducharme of the consequences of race-mixing. Pesh-Chidin’s men include whites and Indians (these last being disgruntled former cavalry scouts, mad at their abuse by racist white soldiers), now making money by way of the dominant capitalist system that has so abused them. That they are selling their “merchandise” to nasty Mexicans only underlines the problem—which The Missing doesn’t take up as a problem, only represents as an obstacle for the increasingly pale and flush-cheeked Maggie.
More mixing, to a more productive end, arrives in the form of Jones’ old buddy Kayitah (Jay Tavare), who happens to be seeking the same marauders, as they have taken his son’s wife to be. These searchers, then, are a motley crew, making use of multiple magics, bible passages as much as native spirit chants, along with some sharp shooting, in order to rescue the stolen girls and defeat their enemies. Certainly, Jones’ devotion to the “Indian” ways is initially a problem for his daughter, but her gradual acceptance of him and the ways suggests a kind of melding of cultures.
If only the film might have managed its many strands in a less reductive form. As it is, The Missing indicts the general push and racist presumptions of modernization, as white populations move West and South, glances briefly at other futures offered by technologies (recording and military), and can’t quite grapple with the displacement that is the white settlers’ lot, by definition.
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