By your own arguments, you prove my point about “Duel at Diablo” being historically accurate, as, in the movie, the Chiricahua Apaches do indeed attack on horseback an enemy small in number, as is proven by Toler’s (Sidney Poitier) statement to the dying Lt. McAllister (Bill McKenna), that Chata (John Hoyt’s Chiricahua Apache chief) “…has lost more than half his men to a force less than half his (contingent’s original) size”. This does indeed parallel with great accuracy the May 1871 Warren Freight wagons incident of which Gregory Michno writes in “Circle The Wagons”, in which a freighter captured by the Apaches was burned on a wagon wheel–which indeed happens to the, as is revealed near “Diablo”'s end, surprisingly vicious character played by Dennis Weaver, further proving the movie’s accuracy. Also, don’t forget that the purpose of the Chiricahua attack on the wagon train was to drive Lt. McAllister’s party into Diablo–hence the western’s title–Canyon, where Chata had already commanded a large number of his braves–just as you say–to “dismount and position themselves in–as I just stated–in canyons and hidden spaces”. Also, there is no evidence–as Wobble claims–that it is implied in “Duel at Diablo” that Sidney Poitier was a soldier in McAllister’s regiment, merely statements by Poitier’s character, Toler, that he had been in the army. Furthermore, white soldiers would taken orders from a black man if they were in the desperate situation that “Diablo”‘s white troopers were, and they thought that the black soldier/frontiersman did indeed know what he was doing, although I believe he may be right about these troopers’–and Sidney Poitier’s Toler’s–“…cooing at Bibi Andersson’s mixed-race child”.
Waterloo was directed by a Russian, filmed in Spain and with a Canadian as Wellington. Appparently, Gianni Garko aka Sartana is in it but I never recognised him. I saw it in the cinema when I was about 10 and thought it was the greatest film I had ever seen and that Wellington was supercool muttering all these witticsims and staying calm in the face of explosions. Everyone who has played Wellington since has basically tried to copy Plummer’s Byronic interpretation. Stephen Fry was a great Wellington in Blackadder.
That was Kiowa and Gattacka Kiowa-Apaches, not Chiricahua. And yes, Chiricahua did attack wagons but they NEVER charged the United States military on horseback. You seem to care more about your own pre-conceived notions than actual history.
And I’ll repeat what I said earlier: Go and ask Greg Michno yourself about the depiction of the Sun Dance in A Man Called Horse. Hopefully you’ll have the sense to admit you’re wrong.
You’re right. I mistakenly thought that it was a British production. Anyway, what I said about Cromwell still stands.
The expression is “spouting nonsense”, not “sprouting nonsense”. Also, having “half a script” by shooting time and “…tr(ying) to keep one scene ahead of the shooting” is a far cry from your earlier claim that the filmmakers “…didn’t have a script”, and that “…it was made up as they went along”, which implies pure improvisation. Gordon also talks about the great accuracy of the film–in his autobiography and in my interview with him–and how it was praised in Europe for it. A fine example of “Custer”'s painstaking accuracy is art director Jean d’Eaubonne’s crafting of Custer’s study at Fort Lincoln, photographs of the actual room being shown in Frederic Franklyn Van DeWater’s “Glory Hunter: A Life of General Custer”, and in Stephen E. Ambrose’s “Crazy Horse and Custer: The Parallel Lives of Two American Warriors”. Furthermore, anyone who has read it will tell you that Jay Monaghan’s “Custer: Life of General George Armstrong Custer” is the obvious source of the movie’s script. Also, noted film historian Michael R. Pitts, in his “Hollywood And American History” proclaims the film “…fairly accurate…” Most tellingly, neither you nor The_Man_With_A-Name comment on the fact that a leading Custer scholar agreed with my estimation of the film’s accuracy, the figure I arrived at I determining as a result of great nitpicking. Also, Man-With_A_Name, how can the film be “…a complete fantasy…”, if, as you almost immediately claim thereafter, “…(T)here’s a few brief moments that are loosely based on historical events…”? Also, the Indian chief played by Kieron Moore is not credited as “Dull Knife”, but merely as either “Indian Chief” or as “Cheyenne Chief” in any source I’ve read, the film itself merely listing the actors of the cast at the beginning and end of the movie without identifying the roles they play. Furthermore, Moore’s part is one of the composite ones of which I spoke, the character being easily identifiable to the knowledgeable as an amalgam of the Cheyenne Chief Pawnee Killer, another great Cheyenne leader, Black Kettle, a number of the Sioux chiefs who visited Custer in the aftermath of the 1874 Black Hills Gold Strike, and, finally, in the movie’s depiction of the Battle of The Little Big Horn, Chief Crazy Horse himself. I must also add that the film does not attribute Custer’s defeat to “…the impetuous actions of a fictional junior officer”, although it does show this character (played by Charles Stalnaker) disobeying orders and joining Custer at Little Big Horn before the time previously arranged (the character also being used to show how Custer sharply divided opinion among his officers and men, this part obviously being a fact-based mix of the pro-Custer officers, with Reno and Benteen representing–as they did in reality–the anti-Custer faction), but, rather–as history states–to Major Reno’s (Ty Hardin) failure to support his chief as earlier demanded by Custer, and to Captain Benteen’s (here, another composite character, a joining of the historical Benteen to Major Edward W. Wynkoop, an officer always ready to defend the Indians, even going so far as to condemn Custer’s attack on Black Kettle’s treaty-breaking braves at Washita, portrayed by Jeffrey Hunter) initial failure to join Custer in attacking the Sioux-Cheyenne encampment at Little Big Horn, although it does show him attempting to join Custer–as he did indeed do in historical fact, in a scene combining this effort with the intense rifle shooting by four braves that had earlier caused Reno–a most-inexperienced Indian fighter–to disobey orders by breaking off his attack–and, as well, to Custer’s failure to convince Crazy Horse–in, it must be said, an entirely fictional scene–but, also, an entirely necessary one–as it reveals the truth about Custer’s Last Stand, which no other film has ever done–that the soldiers and Indians should not fight, as the battle will accomplish nothing–nothing of true value, anyway–for either side, no matter who wins. However, I do agree with you, Wobble, that the film is meant largely as an allegory, hence the many combinations of characters and events, and even distortions of events and their occurrence in time, to bring into as clear a view as possible all of the issues driving two diametrically-opposed cultures to long and vicious war, these differences between those cultures involved being so great, they could–for the most part anyway–never have been settled peacefully. I revealed this interpretation of the film to Professor Urwin in 1990, and he agreed with me immediately. I must also point out to you and The_Man_With_A_Name that you both–most tellingly–never acknowledge my admission that the film depends a great deal upon character and event combination and the like, as I have stated, perhaps in an effort to falsely present me as a defender of the film as completely accurate, which I have never done, to undermine my credibility as a champion of “Custer of The West”, and that of the film itself as a viable historical commentary.
It was an Italian-Russian co-production filmed in Russia, as a biography of producer Dino DeLaurentiis–and any other source I’ve read–states. Also, what difference does the nationality or ethnicity of an actor playing a part have to do with the quality of his performance?
I’ll check, and admit if I am wrong. Why don’t you admit that what you’ve said about Chiricahua military tactics is perfectly paralleled in “Duel at Diablo” (1966)? Also, check out my comment on “Waterloo” (1970). Also, I have no preconceived notions, merely bringing to these discussions what my research has shown me.
Because it doesn’t.
Who said it did?
Okay but he is referred to as Dull Knife in the film.
You, by calling attention to it as part of your claim, in which you falsely state that “Waterloo” (1970) was filmed in Spain, not Russia, that the movie was not British-made. It wasn’t, but why even mention the nationality of the actor playing Wellington in this movie, or that of any other actori in any other film?
I never said that.
I didn’t and who cares?
No, he is never called by name at all. I know this from seeing the film several times–it has occupied a most-honored–and -cherished–place in my home-video collection as a videocassette, DVD, and, now, as a Blu-ray–and I am further supported by Joseph Roquemore’s identification of Mr. Moore’s character as “…a nameless Indian chief…” in his combination historical analysis/review of “Custer of The West” in his superlative book, “History Goes To The Movies”.
You're right in stating that you never claimed "Waterloo" (1970) was filmed in Spain--actually, as I stated above, it was in Russia--and made a big deal about the Anglo-Irish Duke of Wellington being played by a Canadian actor, the late Christopher Plummer, and I apologize to you for my false accusations, although I still hold you in error for claiming the Napoleonic epic to be a British production, when numerous sources--"The Motion Picture Guide", numerous editions of "Leonard Maltin's TV Movies", and the biography of Dino De Laurentiis to which I refer in an earlier post--attest to it being an Italo-Russian co-production In truth, it was Wobbles who made these claims, and I should have directed my refutations against him, which I do now, especially his making a big deal--If he wasn't making a big deal about this matter, why did he even mention it?--about Wellington being portrayed by an actor not of Wellington's own ethnic background. Perhaps he would have been happier if Peter O'Toole, Signore DeLaurentiis's first choice for Wellington, had taken the role, but, then again, maybe not, as Wellington was only half-Irish, and, as everyone knows--especially because Peter O'Toole himself would never let anyone ever forget--the actor was completely Irish in ethnicity. So, Wobbles, are you greatly upset that Rod Steiger, an actor not the least bit Italian, played Napoleon in this same movie? I'm not, as Mr. Steiger's portrayal of the emperor was completely accurate, one of the greatest interpretations ever of "The Little Corporal". (Would you also have been upset if Signore DeLaurentiis's first choice for Napoleon, proud Welshman Richard Burton, had taken the part?) Also, I can't agree completely with your claim that the English are quite self-critical, particularly in dramatizations of their past, especially in their 1970s historical films, as "Zulu Dawn" (1979) is so obviously a product not of any native-English tendency towards highly-critical examinations of Old Blighty's history, but, rather, of a liberal guilt-ridden tendency towards anti-western--and, especially, ANTI-WHITE--historical revisionism that, by the 1970s, had gripped filmmakers--and, even more unfortunately, serious historians--as can be seen in the aforementioned Professor Roquemore's exposure of the great falsification of history permeating "Zulu Dawn" from beginning to end, and in equally-criminally-historically-inaccurate American movies of the same period like "Little Big Man", "Soldier Blue", "Coming Home", and even in the supposed "documentary", the morally-reprehensible abomination to truth, "Hearts And Minds" (1974), a most undeserving winner--to say the least--of the 1974 Academy Award for Best Documentary. Also, what is this nonsense that the English are not as self-congratulatory as everyone else? Just compare such historical classics of earlier British cinema like "Fire Over England" (1937) and "The Cockleshell Heroes" (1955), and even later works like "Zulu" (1964) (self-congratulatory for the most part, anyway, when one considers Chard--Stanley Baker--and Bromhead--Michael Caine--talking about the great waste of war in the aftermath of the 1879 Battle of Rorke's Drift which the film so greatly accurately dramatizes, their dialogue being completely undocumented by history) and "Battle of Britain" (1969) to the 1970s epics, "A Bridge Too Far" (1977), and "Zulu Dawn" (1979) that you mention to see what I mean. Also, you do claim that "Duel at Diablo" most inaccurately depicts Chiricahua Apache warfare, stating that "The Chiricahua Apaches almost never charged an enemy on horseback (unless they were small in number) but would dismount and position themselves in canyons and hidden spaces", and yet, when I point out that the Chiricahuas in the 1966 western do all of these things, you refuse to acknowledge the filmmakers--and my--historical correctness.
Finally, here is my last correspondence-to-date with Gregory Michno:
Perry, it seems likely that many people have gotten an inaccurate conception of my temperament/proclivities. I write on all sides of the spectrum. If it seems the consensus leans too far left, I will tend to go right, and if too far right, I will go left. Three Battles of Sand Creek was written to adjust what I saw as a far too pronounced tendency to sugarcoat Native American excesses. I have also written histories that condemn the whitewashing of white American excesses. You might consider "The Frontiersmen Who Couldn't Shoot Straight" or "Depredation and Deceit" as counter-narratives. Or, for a more balanced take on Sand Creek, perhaps try "The Three Battles of Sand Creek: In Blood, in Court, and as the End of History."
Of course, “Soldier Blue” can be called propaganda, but simply on the other side of the same coin as so many Western films made in the 1940s-1950s, such as the John Ford-John Wayne collaborations. I haven’t seen “A Man Called Horse” for 50 years and can hardly recall it. “Ulzana’s Raid” seemed to me to be simply a vehicle to emphasize the violence that most Americans imagine happened on the frontier. As for “Custer of the West,” I hardly remember that one either.
It sounds like your SWDB group must get into some heavy arguments! But facts will never overcome preconceptions.
Greg
On 10/23/2024 4:13 PM MDT perry zanett perryzanett@yahoo.com wrote:
I’m still researching the accuracy of “A Man Called Horse” (1970) and even more on “Duel at Diablo” (1966), and will have more for all of you shortly.
You’re right in stating that you never claimed “Waterloo” (1970) was filmed in Spain–actually, as I stated above, it was in Russia–and made a big deal about the Anglo-Irish Duke of Wellington being played by a Canadian actor, the late Christopher Plummer, and I apologize to you for my false accusations, although I still hold you in error for claiming the Napoleonic epic to be a British production, when numerous sources–“The Motion Picture Guide”, numerous editions of “Leonard Maltin’s TV Movies”, and the biography of Dino De Laurentiis to which I refer in an earlier post–attest to it being an Italo-Russian co-production In truth, it was Wobbles who made these claims, and I should have directed my refutations against him, which I do now, especially his making a big deal–If he wasn’t making a big deal about this matter, why did he even mention it?–about Wellington being portrayed by an actor not of Wellington’s own ethnic background. Perhaps he would have been happier if Peter O’Toole, Signore DeLaurentiis’s first choice for Wellington, had taken the role, but, then again, maybe not, as Wellington was only half-Irish, and, as everyone knows–especially because Peter O’Toole himself would never let anyone ever forget–the actor was completely Irish in ethnicity. So, Wobbles, are you greatly upset that Rod Steiger, an actor not the least bit Italian, played Napoleon in this same movie? I’m not, as Mr. Steiger’s portrayal of the emperor was completely accurate, one of the greatest interpretations ever of “The Little Corporal”. (Would you also have been upset if Signore DeLaurentiis’s first choice for Napoleon, proud Welshman Richard Burton, had taken the part?) Also, I can’t agree completely with your claim that the English are quite self-critical, particularly in dramatizations of their past, especially in their 1970s historical films, as “Zulu Dawn” (1979) is so obviously a product not of any native-English tendency towards highly-critical examinations of Old Blighty’s history, but, rather, of a liberal guilt-ridden tendency towards anti-western–and, especially, ANTI-WHITE–historical revisionism that, by the 1970s, had gripped filmmakers–and, even more unfortunately, serious historians–as can be seen in the aforementioned Professor Roquemore’s exposure of the great falsification of history permeating “Zulu Dawn” from beginning to end, and in equally-criminally-historically-inaccurate American movies of the same period like “Little Big Man”, “Soldier Blue”, “Coming Home”, and even in the supposed “documentary”, the morally-reprehensible abomination to truth, “Hearts And Minds” (1974), a most undeserving winner–to say the least–of the 1974 Academy Award for Best Documentary. Also, what is this nonsense that the English are not as self-congratulatory as everyone else? Just compare such historical classics of earlier British cinema like “Fire Over England” (1937) and “The Cockleshell Heroes” (1955), and even later works like “Zulu” (1964) (self-congratulatory for the most part, anyway, when one considers Chard–Stanley Baker–and Bromhead–Michael Caine–talking about the great waste of war in the aftermath of the 1879 Battle of Rorke’s Drift which the film so greatly accurately dramatizes, their dialogue being completely undocumented by history) and “Battle of Britain” (1969) to the 1970s epics, “A Bridge Too Far” (1977), and “Zulu Dawn” (1979) that you mention to see what I mean. Also, you do claim that “Duel at Diablo” most inaccurately depicts Chiricahua Apache warfare, stating that “The Chiricahua Apaches almost never charged an enemy on horseback (unless they were small in number) but would dismount and position themselves in canyons and hidden spaces”, and yet, when I point out that the Chiricahuas in the 1966 western do all of these things, you refuse to acknowledge the filmmakers–and my–historical correctness.
Finally, here is my last correspondence-to-date with Gregory Michno:
This is a lot more interesting than your tedious debate
Perry Zannet Shakespeare Monologue America’s Got Talent 2008
Perry, it seems likely that many people have gotten an inaccurate conception of my temperament/proclivities. I write on all sides of the spectrum. If it seems the consensus leans too far left, I will tend to go right, and if too far right, I will go left. Three Battles of Sand Creek was written to adjust what I saw as a far too pronounced tendency to sugarcoat Native American excesses. I have also written histories that condemn the whitewashing of white American excesses. You might consider “The Frontiersmen Who Couldn’t Shoot Straight” or “Depredation and Deceit” as counter-narratives. Or, for a more balanced take on Sand Creek, perhaps try “The Three Battles of Sand Creek: In Blood, in Court, and as the End of History.”
Of course, “Soldier Blue” can be called propaganda, but simply on the other side of the same coin as so many Western films made in the 1940s-1950s, such as the John Ford-John Wayne collaborations. I haven’t seen “A Man Called Horse” for 50 years and can hardly recall it. “Ulzana’s Raid” seemed to me to be simply a vehicle to emphasize the violence that most Americans imagine happened on the frontier. As for “Custer of the West,” I hardly remember that one either.
It sounds like your SWDB group must get into some heavy arguments! But facts will never overcome preconceptions.
Greg
On 10/23/2024 4:13 PM MDT perry zanett perryzanett@yahoo.com wrote:
I’m still researching the accuracy of “A Man Called Horse” (1970) and even more on “Duel at Diablo” (1966), and will have more for all of you shortly.
Facts are facts, Aldo, and one fact is that I am still acting–and loving it–16 years after no-talent Hasselhoff and obnoxious Piers Whatever-His-Name-Is showed their complete lack of taste. Also, my surname is “Zanett”, not “Zannet”.
I think the indian wars are just too big in scope for most SWs. Most are quite self contained
As promised, I have more information defending my position on the accuracy of "A Man Called Horse" (1970). In her book, "Making the White Man's Indian: Native Americans And Hollywood Movies", Angela Aleiss devotes a fair amount of space to the 1970 classic, providing strong evidence that Clyde Dollar, the Sioux's resident historian who was hired by the filmmakers as their technical consultant to ensure historical accuracy, persevered to keep "A Man Called Horse" as accurate as he could, being "...especially adamant..." in adhering to historical truth, "...as he believed that the film's credibility--or lack of it--would follow him throughout his professional life, (A)ny deviation from his suggestions thus became a point of contention." Chief among Dollar's objections is the movie's depiction of Richard Harris's character, the English nobleman Sir John Morgan, shooting a female pheasant rather than a prairie chicken shortly after the beginning of the film while enjoying the hunting holiday for which he has travelled to what soon would be called the Dakota Territory, just prior to his capture by Sioux Indians, Dollar insisting pheasants didn't appear in the American Great Plains states until the twentieth century. Such a small error could be an intentional one by screenwright Jack DeWitt and director Elliott Silverstein to underscore the boredom with what Morgan feels is his pampered aristocratic existence, a boredom that has inspired the noblemen's restlessness, which, in turn, has created his intense desire to prove himself a man--a real man according to his own estimation, a being who must--and can--rely on his own intelligence, moral and physical strength, and resourcefulness to survive and make his way in this world--the same desire motivating the same character in Dorothy M. Johnson's original story--in which the title protagonist is never referred to by any name--and, according to Sioux sensibilities, stated screenwright DeWitt in a phone conversation I was most privileged to have with him, the white character in the Sioux legend--a character inspired by the German aristocrat, Prince Maximilian Weid von Neuweid, whose scientific and cultural expedition to the area of America now known as the Great Plains in the early 19th century provided the world at large with its first truly depthful information about the Sioux's and other Indians' culture--who came among the Sioux to prove himself a man, this legend that, of course, predates both Dorothy M. Johnson's original 1950 story, "A Man Called Horse", and the movie of the same title, and, while fully known to Mr. DeWitt, was completely unfamiliar to Mrs. Johnson until informed of such by DeWitt himself. After all, immediately after shooting the animal, doesn't Morgan/Harris say that he has just realized that he has travelled halfway around the world to kill the same type of bird he had in his native land?
Dollar also took exception to Morgan/Harris using a berry bag instead of an historically-accurate basket to collect fruit native to the area when accompanying his new slave-mistress, Buffalo Cow Head (Dame Judith Anderson) on a food-gathering excursion–a most minor error–and Harris wearing an Apache-like headband throughout most of his time with the Yellow Hand Sioux, that branch of the Sioux tribe headed, in the film, by Chief Yellow Hand (Manu Tupou)–admittedly, a far more serious error, but hardly a fatal one.
However, authoress Aleiss–very favorable to all American Indians–makes no mention of Clyde Dollar–or anyone else–questioning the authenticity of the Sun Vow ceremony depicted in the movie. She does say that many Indian activists were offended by “A Man Called Horse” on the whole, and, especially, by the depiction of the ritual, Ms. Aleiss quoting some activists as saying the rite "…portray(ed) Indians ‘as a bestial race preoccupied with violence’(,) and also denouncing “…the movie as humiliating and degrading.” Strong words indeed, as is AIM Sioux activist Russell Means’ claim that the movie was racist, but providing no evidence whatsoever that the Sun Vow as depicted in the film is false, as you, The_Man_With_A_Name, state. If it was falsely staged, wouldn’t Miss Aleiss, as sympathetic to the Indians as she is, say so–especially with direct quotes from the American Indian activists to whom she refers so liberally? I, however, severely doubt Mr. Means’ credentials as an historian, especially given that, also in Ms. Aleiss’s study, he is shown to have stated that (the 1995 animated film) “‘Pocahontas’ (in which Means voiced the titular heroine’s father) (is) the finest feature film on American Indians Hollywood has turned out”, causing noted Sioux columnist Giago to write, “This is one case of the white man’s dollar turning an activist into a pussy cat”. It may also interest all of you to know that the role of Harris’s Indian wife, eventually played by Corinna Tsopei, a wonderful Greek actress who was brilliant in her role–as were all players in this movie, from its star–it remains Mr. Harris’s best-known role to this day, except, of course, for his equally-brilliant King Arthur in the film–and, as well, in various stage versions–of “Camelot” (1967)–to its extras–was initially offered to Cree-Inuit Indian Buffy Saint-Marie, but she turned it down, claiming the movie was a case of “cultural appropriation”, although “Wikipedia” claims the popular singer-actress would later be guilty of this same “crime”.
As promised, I have more information defending my position on the accuracy of “A Man Called Horse” (1970). In her book, “Making the White Man’s Indian: Native Americans And Hollywood Movies”, Angela Aleiss devotes a fair amount of space to the 1970 classic, providing strong evidence that Clyde Dollar, the Sioux’s resident historian who was hired by the filmmakers as their technical consultant to ensure historical accuracy, persevered to keep “A Man Called Horse” as accurate as he could, being “…especially adamant…” in adhering to historical truth, “…as he believed that the film’s credibility–or lack of it–would follow him throughout his professional life, Any deviation from his suggestions thus became a point of contention.” Chief among Dollar’s objections is the movie’s depiction of Richard Harris’s character, the English nobleman Sir John Morgan, shooting a female pheasant rather than a prairie chicken shortly after the beginning of the film while enjoying the hunting holiday for which he has travelled to what soon would be called the Dakota Territory, just prior to his capture by Sioux Indians, Dollar insisting pheasants didn’t appear in the American Great Plains states until the twentieth century. Such a small error could be an intentional one by screenwright Jack DeWitt and director Elliott Silverstein to underscore the boredom with what Morgan feels is his pampered aristocratic existence, a boredom that has inspired the noblemen’s restlessness, which, in turn, has created his intense desire to prove himself a man–a real man according to his own estimation, a being who must–and can–rely on his own intelligence, moral and physical strength, and resourcefulness to survive and make his way in this world–the same desire motivating the same character in Dorothy M. Johnson’s original story–in which the title protagonist is never referred to by any name–and, according to Sioux sensibilities, stated screenwright DeWitt in a phone conversation I was most privileged to have with him, the white character in the Sioux legend–a character inspired by the German aristocrat, Prince Maximilian Weid von Neuweid, whose scientific and cultural expedition to the area of America now known as the Great Plains in the early 19th century provided the world at large with its first truly depthful information about the Sioux, other Indians, and their cultures–who came among the Sioux to prove himself a man, this legend that, of course, predates both Dorothy M. Johnson’s original 1950 story, “A Man Called Horse”, and the movie of the same title, and, while fully known to Mr. DeWitt, was completely unfamiliar to Mrs. Johnson until informed of such by DeWitt himself. After all, after shooting the animal, doesn’t Morgan/Harris say, immediately after doing so, that he has just realized that he has travelled halfway around the world to kill the same type of bird he had in his native land?