“Reservation Dogs” and the Quest for Purpose
Mild spoilers for seasons one and two.
Of late, I’ve been watching, and enthralled by, the FX series Reservation Dogs, which is in the midst of its second season. Created by Sterlin Harjo and Taika Waititi, with an all-indigenous cast, creative team, and crew, the show is remarkable enough for what it represents; the fact that it’s also a wildly compelling narrative with characters you love and care about is what makes the show extraordinary.
There’s not much by way of plot in Reservation Dogs, although the show starts out with a bang, with its four young protagonists stealing a truck full of crispy hot snacks, an action that earns the show its title and winds up having repercussions throughout the series. The four ne’er do wells — Bear, Cheese, Elora Danan, and Willie Jack (D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, Lane Factor, Devery Jacobs, and Paulina Alexis, respectively) — are looking for something else, a way out of their nondescript lives in their nondescript Oklahoma town. Still reeling from the death of the posse’s fifth wheel, Daniel (Dalton Cramer), the show follows the kids as they work towards common goals, disband and seek individual fortunes, and realize that, try as they may, escaping to that magical land called California isn’t as easy as they think.
Finding purpose, seeking a goal to make it all feel worthwhile — that’s something we can all relate to. I’ll stick to my main topic as much as possible here, but watching the determination of the Rez Dogs to make something of themselves stirs something in me: namely, the feeling that I want it all to be for something — the years of toiling in offices, the artist stuff, the kid stuff — even if I’ve been making it up as I go along. Aren’t we all doing that, making our way in the world, pretending we know how the game’s played? And don’t we all learn, in the end, that the trick is just to get on with it, or, as Willie Jack would say, “Skoden”?
Unlike the Rez Dogs, I have a comfortable life that’s been full of good fortune. I don’t have gambling debts, alcoholic neighbors, abusive parents, or the things that series creators Harjo and Waititi acknowledge are part of indigenous life, but don’t define it. You admire the foursome because you see the hand they’ve been dealt; you also know they possess the will and the strength to move on to something greater. The chances of breaking out of their milieu may be slim, but they have a knowledge of the outside world and what it promises. Check out the movie posters on everyone’s walls, and the way the characters reference films with ecstatic reverence, as if Hollywood is some kind of holy grail. This is what gives the show its considerable power, and allows it to transcend its setting: we know these kids have the potential to get to the promised land. It’s just a matter of finding the key.
There are almost too many local characters to name, all of them rich with quirks and glorious dialogue, but let’s do the big ones. There’s Brownie (Gary Farmer), the pot-smoking uncle of Willie Jack, who lives in the woods, hoping to unload skunk weed he’s stowed in an underground bunker. Big (Zahn McClarnon) is the reservation’s lighthorseman who seems willing to overlook every infraction. Mose and Mekko are a a local rap duo/Greek chorus played by real-life brothers Lil Mike and Funny Bone. Bucky (Wes Studi) is a kindly artist who’s been tossed onto the streets by his wife. A Native American spirit, William Knifeman (played by Dallas Goldtooth and seen only by Bear and Brownie) claims to have been at the Battle of Little Big Horn, though he wasn’t exactly in the shit. Kenny Boy and Ansel (Kirk Fox and Matty Cardarople) are the loquacious owners of Burglekutt’s, a salvage yard/meth lab/chop shop. The NDN (sound it out) Mafia is a rival gang led by the rebellious Jackie (Elva Guerra). Single parents, deadbeat dads, and couples (Sarah Podemski, Jon Proudstar, Jude Barnett, Michael Spears, and others) bust their backs to provide sustenance, while others shirk responsibility and leave grieving families in their wake. Then there’s Daniel, whose spirit hovers over the show like a murky haze; he’s a cautionary tale of what happens when you lose sight of your dreams and let the depression of reservation life get the best of you.
At the beginning of season two, Elora and Jackie have taken off in the car that was meant to get the Rez Dogs to California. Initially feeling free as the wind, and elated at the prospect of leaving the reservation behind, things go from bad to worse for the pair, as one deadly mishap gives way to another. It’s not that what transpires is particularly surprising; we see the outcome before the characters do. Having lost their car and everything in it, they are given (comparatively luxe) shelter by Anna (Megan Mullally), a kindly, religious woman who seems to take pity on the pair. But though the girls are determined to leave poverty behind, they don’t grok on Anna’s lifestyle, and in a supreme “Fuck The Man” gesture, steal her truck to get back home.
Which neatly sums up the complexity of these characters. Upon arriving back home, Elora shows up at Bear’s bedroom window, distraught — not by the fact that she didn’t make it to Cali, but that her grandmother (Geraldine Keams) is dying. This gives way to season 2's achingly elegiac episode 4, “Mabel,” with most of the cast convening for a ritual send-off of the woman who raised Elora after the death of her mother, Cookie. The episode is quintessential Rez Dogs: characters questioning, not just why they’ve come to pay their respects, but what’s their place in the universe? William reminds Bear of his importance in the ceremony to take place. Cookie’s sister Teenie (Tamara Podemski) and Big wonder whether they should have given it a go years back. Willie Jack and Cheese wonder why Jackie’s there, but fall asleep beside her on the couch anyway. In the end, as Mabel takes her leave, Elora stumbles to the back yard to let her tears flow, only to encounter Mabel’s spirit, who thanks her for being there and instructs her not to sell the Blue Willow cookware.
The Dogs may be felons, but they’re felons with hearts, and for every misdeed there’s an equal and opposite act of kindness that leavens their crime sprees. It’s hard to dislike such characters. And as much as we, the viewers, would prefer they not have to resort to a life of crime, we don’t exactly disapprove. The tension there, the knife’s-edge balance between drama and comedy, right and wrong, ambition and lawlessness, is what makes Reservation Dogs the critics’ darling it is. I hope more people discover it, and that we’ll have Bear, Elora, Willie Jack, and Cheese in our lives for several seasons to come. There’s truly nothing else like it.
