I’ll start with a bold statement – Wild Indian is one of the year’s best films, and yet very few people seem to be talking about it. The film, which is the feature-length directorial debut of Lyle Mitchell Corbine Jr., is one of the many fantastic works produced by and within the Native American community, and yet seems to be almost entirely obscure, remembered only by the select few that have stumbled upon the film. It’s an enormous shame, since Corbine made a film that is as daring as it is beautifully poetic, a stunning manifesto on a particular time and place (as well as the people who inhabit it), which takes the form of a truly exquisite, complex psychological thriller that ventures deep into the mentality of two people who have been forced to live with a dark secret, bound by the knowledge that if either one of them reveals the truth, they will both have to pay for the consequences that are awaiting them on the other side, both in terms of the law, and the higher power that guides their every action. Wild Indian is an absolutely fascinating film, one of the rare examples of a film that manages to be both a social realist drama, and a provocative parable that draws on elements of the past in creating a vivid and mystifying portrait of modern life, and how every movement we make and word that comes out of our mouths is in some way inextricably tied to the past – and there comes a time when we realize that history is bound to repeat itself, so very few actions can remain hidden forever, especially when there is someone holding onto the same knowledge, but with a lot less to lose should the truth emerge.

There are certainly some very deep ideas embedded within Wild Indian – it becomes very clear that Corbine wasn’t content with a conventional drama. Unfortunately, it is a reality that First Nations artists rarely have their voice heard in the mainstream, with very few films centred on their perspective finding their way to the top of the collective culture, the majority of their stories being filtered through the lens of filmmakers outside their culture, who seemingly believe their generosity in telling these stories (which are usually defended by the claim that they are apparently well-researched) equates to any kind of authority on the subject. Corbine refutes this, but in an indirect manner, taking a wildly popular genre – the gritty crime thriller – and adjusting it to his own experiences as someone of Native heritage, using his own knowledge, as well as that of his community, to craft an impeccable and beautifully complex film that gives a voice to a group of artists who continue to struggle for recognition, outside of a few scattered moments that hold cultural cache. Wild Indian isn’t only an excellent film in terms of form and content – it’s incredibly important, even if it is only on the subject of representation. However, this a conversation that requires a dialogue rather than singular ramblings, and it distracts from the fact that, beyond filling in the proverbial gaps of representation, Wild Indian is an exceptional film, a wonderful example of active, engaging storytelling made by a filmmaker who truly has a stunning grasp on his craft, and a deep knowledge that can rival that of any other young filmmaker working in contemporary cinema, especially in this specific genre.

Most of what makes Wild Indian so impactful is how it is really a film about duality – the narrative centres on two men who were responsible for a cold-blooded murder when they were young children growing up in rural Wisconsin, and have grown into adults that harbour this dark secret. Each one of them has ventured down a radically different road in their older years – one has become a well-regarded businessman with a wife and child (and another on the way), while the other has spent the previous quarter of a century as a frequent resident in a range of correctional facilities, as a result of crimes that range from petty to deeply disturbing. Corbine draws on these two different perspectives in constructing the film, centring nearly everything around these two characters, particular as they are slowly drawn closer together as a result of the lingering secret, which eventually culminates in a shocking encounter where they address their past, with deeply disturbing results. The film works well because Corbine understands the nuances that come with stories centring on dual perspectives – and throughout Wild Indian, he is drawing on the mentalities of both characters, looking at their psychological state as he pulls apart the sensations of guilt, remorse and hopelessness, proving that one never truly forgets their past actions, but rather layer more positive memories and experiences, in the hopes of softening the deep pain of remembering the past. Atonement is a fascinating subject, and this film looks at what happens when someone not only refuses to own up to their transgressions, but actively avoids it in a way that becomes increasingly violent and manipulative. Every moment of this film is punctuated with a deep melancholy that contrasts sharply with the horrific subject matter, turning this film into an absolutely brutal, disquieting experience that doesn’t have much space for sentimentality.

The most compelling aspects of Wild Indian are the performances provided by Michael Greyeyes and Chaske Spencer, two actors that have proudly represented the indigenous community in the media for decades. Their work in this film is absolutely phenomenal – it’s a special moment when a project comes along that gives a familiar but still relatively unknown actor the chance to showcase their skills, and launches them forward in such a way that anyone watching this film isn’t likely to forget them. Wild Indian contains two such actors, and both Greyeyes and Spencer are doing absolutely stunning, complex work that defies expectations and proves that the most simple details are the most effective when crafting a character. Greyeyes in particular is an incredible lead – Makwa is a very complex character, someone who would like to consider himself a good person, but harbours a darkness within that impacts every relationship he has, whether professional or personal. He is an intimidating presence, commanding the screen with his towering physicality and distinctive stoicism, but being able to show vulnerability that doesn’t necessarily make us feel empathy for an otherwise despicable character, but rather shows a much deeper complexity beyond his stone-faced veneer. Spencer has a substantially smaller role, but he’s just as strong – he uses his limited time to craft an unforgettable villain, the rare kind of individual whose existence is purely to serve as an adversary for the protagonist, but whose villainy is actually understandable. In the case of his character of Theodore, he is searching for forgiveness for his involvement in a brutal crime, and will do anything to show contrition, even if that means betraying the one person he promised to help protect, knowing the consequences that would be waiting for them as a result. There is a simmering fury underlying both performances, and Corbine draws out the raw emotion in both characters, and the actors work closely to create these unforgettable portrayals that linger with the viewer long after the film has ended.

Wild Indian isnot an easy film to describe, since it is built more on the emotional content than it is the story, Much of the film is driven by emotion, Corbine making use of a very distinct tone to explore this narrative. The film is extraordinarily atmospheric, and it sometimes contains moments that are difficult to understand in isolation at first, depending more on the emotions evoked to create a vivid mood that says more about these characters and their collective past than any dialogue possibly could. It’s a film free of any kind of exposition, instead inviting the viewer along on this journey, promising that it will all make sense along the way – and as a result, Wild Indian is one of the year’s best films, a daring and unquestionably nuanced psychological thriller that positions two very different characters at the centre, and subsequently explores their wildly divergent paths, as well as demonstrating that, regardless of how far apart these journeys may have been, those who share a particular connection will inevitably find their paths converging after a while – and while most would welcome the opportunity, for some people (such as the characters in this film), such a reunion doesn’t evoke the joyful celebration of reminiscing on fond memories, but rather atoning for the misdeeds that have remained dormant for decades. Its a beautiful but deeply disturbing film that captures our attention and leads us through a darker version of the world, all the while carefully commenting on issues much deeper than the central themes would lead you to expect, ultimately provoking a series of very dire conversations centred on a range of issues, including identity and domestic abuse, which Corbine uses as the foundation for this incredibly dark but profoundly moving drama that is undeniably one of the most important films of the year, if not for the deep discussions evoked, for the voices that are dedicated to inciting them.