Why are they running, these handsome men? The manuals tell us that action movies should open this way, with motion and colour, with sound and fury, to get the blood pumping from frame one—don’t waste time on exposition. Indeed, the opening sequence of The Last of the Mohicans yanks us in by the collar, as Chingachgook, his biological son, Uncas, and his adopted son, Hawkeye (or, Nathaniel Poe), to the urgent beat of synth-and-bass-drum music, pursue an elk with crude but effective weapons. Hawkeye scores the killshot with his flint rifle (after a single pull of the trigger), and these hunters, two of them, we’ll soon learn, the only surviving members of an indigenous race, say a prayer for the animal’s spirit.
What a skillful set-up; swiftly, we learn that our heroes are fast, and yes, there is a lot of running to be done in The Last of the Mohicans. (Even Ben Stiller satirized this aspect of it on his short-lived sketch show; as Hawkeye, Stiller demonstrated a treadmill designed for simulating the daily routine of a Mohican.) Furthermore, they’re exceptional trackers, rendering plausible the ease with which they will eventually follow the warpath of vengeful Hurons. Finally, we discover that Chingachgook’s clan of three is comprised of compassionate hunters, humbled by their ecological superiority.
President Woodrow Wilson said of D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, "It’s like writing history with lightning," and I can think of no better way to describe Michael Mann’s keenly visual approach to storytelling—he strips away dialogue with the instincts of a silent-era auteur. Wordless (and breathless) passages make up the bulk of The Last of the Mohicans, a new-fashioned epic that concentrates on the poetry of movement. Occasionally, the film gets bogged down in the military details of the Seven Years War, most of them deadly inaccurate (American historian Richard White bitterly wrote, "For The Last of the Mohicans, history is a junkyard full of motifs and incidents that can be retrieved, combined, and paired with new inventions as Mann sees fit"), but searing battle scenes eradicate all memory of dull or faulty revisionism.
New York, 1757. Hawkeye (Day-Lewis) and company rescue the Munro sisters, Cora and Alice (played by Stowe and Jodhi May, respectively), from certain death. The women were being escorted, under false pretenses, back to Fort William Henry, where their father Edmund (Maurice Roëves), a British Colonel, leads a cannon-powered charge against Montcalm’s troops. Somewhat safely ensconced inside the fort, Hawkeye falls in love with Cora, much to the dismay of ally soldier Duncan Heyward (Stephen Waddington), her rejected suitor, who then jealously supports Edmund on his decision to charge Hawkeye with sedition (for helping some drafted settlers go AWOL).
The villain of the piece is Magua (Studi), a nefarious Huron scout single-minded in his quest to wipe the "seed" of "Grey Hair" from the earth forever. The attacks his people stage on the English have an ulterior bent—we presume that Magua’s allegiance to the French will die the day his bloodfeud with Munro has been successfully avenged. Of the less plotty dialogue in Mann’s adaptation, Magua gets the best of it, dispensing salty wisdom with appropriate hostility. (My favourite: "When white woman is hungry, white man puts down his tomahawk to feed her laziness.") In the time-honoured tradition of denying Native Americans what is rightfully theirs, Studi failed to receive an Oscar nomination for his ineffaceable portrayal of a human cobra.
The Last of the Mohicans is operatically structured—those with only a fleeting interest in America’s past should be won over by its amped-up passion: whatever happens, Hawkeye must protect Cora, the woman he adores; Uncas must protect Alice, the woman he adores; Magua sneers and is to be sneered at in return; bodices are ripped; bonds are broken and renewed; transgressors seek redemption; and so on and so forth. I am a sucker for its romantic sweep.
That said, I don’t want to portray Mann’s film as quaint melodrama. There was a consensus about The Last of the Mohicans at the time of its release that it lacked character development, but I considered it then and still do as hinged on aesthetics, with base feelings represented in silent, pretty takes. It’s the film’s purity of emotion that has some mistaking it for shallow—could the beautifully raw climactic montage have such an overwhelmingly sad impact if we didn’t understand, and sympathize, with the plight of Uncas, who utters barely a syllable throughout? Only if you see dobs of paint on a two-dimensional canvas as having no opportunity for subtext will this observantly photographed (by Dante Spinotti) masterwork leave you unelated.
Why are we less critical of movies that reorganize factual events (such as Braveheart) than unfaithful screen adaptations of best-selling novels? Because history is this amorphous thing, subject to the whim of imagination in the absence of a strong dissenting voice. Moreover, it’s rare that one develops a sentimental attachment to the recounting of a period, while books become, for their brief duration, a vacation for the mind, and all that that implies. The Last of the Mohicans retools both our dark past and a popular, if largely dismissed, tome, yet in this case, two wrongs make a right: the film is a Michael Mann experience (and a deeply sensitive one, at that), above all else—he has rewritten history with lightning.
An exclusive-to-DVD Director’s Cut reinstates a prophetic closing speech delivered by Chingachgook:
"The frontier moves with the sun and pushes the red man of the wilderness forests in front of it. One day there will be nowhere left for the red man to go....Then men like Hawkeye will go, too. Like the Mohicans. New people will come. Work. Struggle. Make their light, and change the world."
The film now ends on a more anthropological note than before, ironically putting it closer to Cooper’s vision (wherein he perceived the frontier as a sort of utopia destroyed by racial discord) than any previous adaptation (that I’ve seen, anyway). For its expanded sense of loss (or longing), I’m recommending "Mohicans ‘99" over "Mohicans ‘92". (For the record, the theatrical release runs 114 minutes, while the DEE clocks in at 116). However, Mann’s omission of Clannad’s "I Will Find You", which once underscored a sequence of Hawkeye tracking captured Cora to ethereal effect (heck, it echoed the exchange these lovers had just moments before), is wrongheaded; the song was a welcome breather from eighteenth century artifice. (In its place, loud footsteps and more of the Trevor Jones/Randy Edelman score.)
The disc contains an exceptional, 2.35:1 letterboxed, THX- Michael Mann-approved transfer (a disclaimer inside the package warns us that for this definitive edition "certain shots had to be lengthened, resulting in a momentary jump in the image"). Though not enhanced for 16x9 televisions, the DVD improves upon the Laserdisc, at least in terms of picture quality: we get brighter colours, increased definition (I have renewed respect for the meticulous costumes), and black level with jaw-dropping range. A blue-toned midnight stakeout lacks shadow detail, but otherwise, no complaints—The Last of the Mohicans is among a handful of superior-looking non-anamorphic discs.
The DD 5.1 audio makes a good workout for your system: for one thing, the LFE channel produces avalanche-style bass. The sound design team won the film’s lone Oscar, and while their work is slightly better showcased on the ear-splitting DD Laserdisc of three years back (perhaps Mann’s re-edit forced changes to the six-track master that could not be smoothed over easily enough.), music and sound effects have thunder. The mix as a whole could be louder, but if you’ve never heard The Last of the Mohicans in surround before, you won’t be disappointed. (Note: the French Dolby Surround also housed on this DVD contains subtitles where footage has been added.)
I wish that Mann had given DVD owners the option of viewing the theatrical cut as well (easily achieved via the seamless branching technology). Regardless, his choosing to debut "Mohicans ’99" on DVD marks a special occasion—it means the format has officially defeated LD in a turf war for completists.
DVDS. Director {$Michael Mann} based this lushly romantic version of the {$James Fenimore Cooper} novel more on his memory of the 1936 film version (s...More at DeepDiscount.com
Cora Madeleine Stowe and her younger sister Alice Jodhi May both recent arrivals to the colonies are being escorted to their father Colonel Munro Maur...More at Family Video
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