Roots torn. I was intrigued to read that Mackenzie's film, "The Exiles," didn't come out in theater until 2008. This film is about the life of Native Americans living on Bunker Hill. This area of Los Angeles became home to many Indians who gave up living in tanks. Old people remember the past, but what does the modern generation remember? Occasionally, he remembers his childhood and relatives and moves further and further away from his roots. This film tells about the lives of young Indians who have become accustomed to white culture, loud noises in the city hills, hang out in bars and stroll around the roads of the city. Not all Indians live this way, but such a life is now typical for many.
The story begins with a girl who dreams of having a baby or is expecting one. This question remains suspended in the air. Let each viewer answer this question himself. But, like any conscientious mother, even before the birth of a child, she thinks about his future. What her man does at home, and the same as white: receives noisy guests, idle and read comics. And a woman just has to be on errands, go to the store and dream of a better life, brightening up her loneliness with late walks and trips to the cinema. He'll find it easier to get in the company of white men, listening every day to the same talk about all sorts of nonsense. But both of them, probably like all Indians, are beginning to accept the reality that whites dragged them into years ago. They gamble with them and only for a moment remember their ancestors, their former life. Look at the picture, remember your ancestors. Maybe there's a rescue. So much time has passed and so many changes have passed. And faith in salvation is just another beautiful lie. Without mystery and faith, this world is doomed.