I will (probably) never watch this film again. Here’s just a few reasons why (spoiler alert!): the horse dies, the wolf dies, the quirky transport wagon driver is murdered by “evil Indians,” and the kind Sioux chief also gets killed in battle (by the same bad guys). But to be honest, the death of the wolf, Two Socks, is downright traumatizing–one of the most disturbing images I’ve personally ever seen in film and one I wish I could forget.

I hate films that go for “thrill violence,” or violence meant to shock or entertain the audience (2000’s Best Picture winner Gladiator addresses this idea in our own culture). While this doesn’t seem to be the case with Dances with Wolves, the film does cross a line, I think, with its drawn-out scenes of vicious attacks on settlers by Native Americans and the nauseating massacres of Lieutenant John Dunbar’s animal friends by heartless white soldiers. So if it’s not hoping its audience will enjoy all the carnage it presents, what point is Dances with Wolves exactly trying to make with all its violence?

My theory with regard to the above question is that the movie wants to make the point that the “conquering” of the American West by white settlers killed something both wild and wonderful that the land had possessed. Two Socks, the lone wolf who befriends Dunbar, is particularly emblematic of this idea. He is curious about the white man who moves into his territory, willing (and maybe even eager) to get to know him, but definitely not tame. In the adorable scene which leads to the Sioux nickname for Dunbar (“Dances with Wolves”), the lonely white man and the wolf of the western wilds frolic together, neither quite trusting the other, but both appreciating the togetherness that they had formerly lacked. Dunbar, because he loves the land in its original, unspoiled state and values its wildlife and native peoples, can have this relationship with Two Socks. He has earned it, in a way.

But others, namely the rest of the white men, have not earned this privilege. They slaughter the buffalo herds for sport, trample the land and waste its resources, and cheat and bully the Native Americans out of their ancestral lands. If not for the bloodthirstiness of the Pawnee tribe, the film would almost present a “noble savage” narrative, one in which the Native Americans can do no wrong, whereas the less intelligent white men commit all the atrocities. Still, Dances with Wolves elevates the way of life of the Sioux tribe in particular. They do kill buffalo, but they use up every part of each dead animal in order to survive. They steal horses, but they treat them well. They don’t shy away from violence, but all of their actions are ultimately to protect their families. Dunbar befriends this tribe, marries into it, and fights with them against the Pawnee and the ex-Union troops who capture him near the end of the film. The movie shows the Sioux in the same light that it presents Two Socks: wild but friendly, innocent, and ultimately destroyed by the invading white people.

For Me Then…

The fact that the film takes its title from the new name given to Dunbar indicates that another purpose of Dances with Wolves is to discuss identity. Dunbar chooses his isolated post in the American West, he painstakingly journals and sketches to document the unfamiliar creatures and people he encounters and the difficulties and adventures he has, but who he becomes–who he is by the film’s close–is determined by his actions. He is different from both the white men who come West after him and the Native Americans who have been there for ages. He is a bridge between cultures, a man trying to rectify the differences between peoples and the divisions within himself. Dunbar comes to know himself in the wild land of the Great Plains. He is not a white man, and neither is he Sioux. He dances with wolves, but he shoots guns. He is a hybrid, a person of a perfect world, a person who doesn’t really exist, and yet someone who will always exist as we Americans will eternally be a mix of our past and our present.

Although Two Socks is killed during his distress over his friend Dunbar’s capture, the image of the howling wolf as the film closes proves the wildness of the West can’t ever really die. It lives on in people like Dunbar, those willing to listen to the different opinions of others, to attempt the unfamiliar, to recognize the value of tradition, to protect what is beautiful, and to fight for what they believe in. Dances with Wolves might go about proving its point in too much of a grotesque way, but we can all heed its urging to listen to our consciences and value our collective yesterdays.