Tara Houska: Horror film treats Native peoples as relics of past

It was with apprehension that I read Eli Roth had announced his newest creation, "The Green Inferno," after a seven-year hiatus following "Hostel 2." I hadn't bothered to see the sequel, as I saw little entertainment value in its predecessor. Where I found Rob Zombie's gore-filled "The Devil's Rejects" to have humor, interesting characters, and gritty 70s-esque cinematography, "Hostel" was simply violence for the sake of violence. And this time, Roth decided to make indigenous peoples into the movie monsters.

Indigenous representations on the silver screen are few and far between. Monotone, feathered and leathered caricatures are often the only role for Native American actors. While every other race has moved into the 21st century, Native characters remain stuck in the past. Between the stereotypes on film, on the side of football helmets, and the Manifest Destiny narrative still taught in schools, it's sadly unsurprising people still ask if I live in a tipi.

Roth took it a step further. These Native peoples weren't just unintelligible savages, they were the source of horror for unsuspecting white activists. Last Thursday, I sat through the film with Amazon Watch, an indigenous rights group that works closely with communities throughout the Amazon region.

Unsurprisingly to everyone but Roth, numerous indigenous peoples and organizations have denounced the film. He has argued that criticism about the manner in which he chose to portray Native people is unfounded; the tribe is fictional and correlating any real-world effects is "absurd." One would hope a filmmaker grasps the impact of media on public perception, particularly when those rare representations are largely dehumanizing. At this moment, existing isolated tribes in the Amazon face enormous pressures from resource-hungry extractive industries. The fate of no-contact legislative protections is uncertain, increasing the very real threat of disease and destruction of lands.