Smoke Signals

It isn't much fun pointing out that the Emperor is buck naked when the Emperor is as well-intentioned and as culturally vital as Smoke Signals, the first noted feature-length motion picture to have been written and directed by Native Americans. The filmmakers' hearts are so evidently in the right place, and the quotidian existence of Native Americans so woefully under-represented onscreen, that you can't really blame critics and audiences for embracing it--it seems almost disrespectful not to, frankly. Unfortunately, the depressing truth is that the movie is painfully inept, alternately scoring cheap laughs via jokes about Dances With Wolves and assaulting the viewer with cloying, sentimental claptrap. Furthermore, it's a tough call which of the two main characters--nerdy, Urkelesque Thomas (Evan Adams) or passive, wooden Victor (Adam Beach)--is the more annoying; ultimately, Adams' grating sing-song delivery wins the match in overtime. Only Gary Farmer (Dead Man), as Victor's long-absent, recently deceased father (seen in flashbacks), rises above the sea of sociological treacle. Not recommended. (M. D'Angelo)