The Last of the Mohicans (1992)

Michael Mann | 1hr 52min

Michael Mann’s brief detour from crime movies into historical epics spanned a total of one film in the early 1990s, though the visceral action that commonly brings good and evil into conflict throughout his oeuvre is no less present in The Last of the Mohicans. Within the broader French and Indian War of the mid-18^th century which saw various Native American tribes ally with opposing British and French colonies, personal vendettas run deep. The humiliation that Huron chief Magua once suffered at the hands of Colonel Edmund Munro has marked the officer as his mortal enemy, and the prospect of cutting out his heart is not enough to satiate his bloodlust. Meanwhile, Munro’s underestimation of his enemy does not only compromise his tactical and technological advantages, but also woefully sets back those caught in the middle who desperately seek some sort of harmony within the chaos.

For Mohican-adopted woodsman Hawkeye, this bitter violence between Brits and Hurons especially undermines his efforts to preserve the Indigenous traditions that white colonialism threatens to erase. He is a mythic hero lifted straight from James Fenimore Cooper’s literary series Leatherstocking Tales, typifying the ideal union of European and Native American cultures. Now as a grown man, he lives with Mohican elder Chingachgook and his son Uncas, both the last of their tribe. When the responsibility of escorting Munro’s daughters Cora and Alice back to their father falls into their laps, intimate bonds continue to develop between natives and settlers, and yet the consequences of Magua’s vindictive fury and Munro’s ruinous pride can only be averted for so long.

Still, the cross-cultural romance that Hawkeye and Cora share right next to Uncas and Alice brings a gentle reprieve to the film’s brutality, even if they must first work through their differences. When they first encounter a farm of massacred settlers and deduce the activities of a Huron war party, Mann’s blocking sets the tiny, clueless Europeans apart from Hawkeye and his native companions whispering in the foreground, and this division continues to echo through his immaculate staging of British and French forces. Only in the wilderness where the prejudices and conventions of white civilisation are left behind can these impossible relationships flourish, illuminated by the warm natural light of campfires and shrouded in the blue glow of cascading waterfalls.

The beauty that Mann consistently finds in America’s terrain of rough mountains, leafy forests, and still lakes may only be outdone though by the absolute attention to detail he pours into his period production design and battle sequences. From a distance, the French’s siege of Fort William Henry lights up the night with bright orange smoke, while up close his camera tracks through their relentless barrage of gunfire and cannonballs aimed at sturdy stone walls. Slow-motion is used to brilliant effect in these scenes too, often centring around Daniel Day-Lewis as he daringly runs into the thick of combat and subsequently proves his versatility as an action hero.

The climactic confrontation which Mann builds all of this to makes for a magnificent show of cinematic storytelling in the final act of The Last of the Mohicans, stripping away the dialogue to underscore the final struggle with Scottish fiddles reiterating a persistent, propulsive melody. Time slows down once again as Hawkeye races across a mountain to rescue Cora and Alice from Magua, and yet it is Uncas who first reaches his destination and is consequently slain by the Huron’s blade. Resolving to follow her lover rather than be trapped with Magua, Alice throws herself from the cliff, at which point Mann seems to turn the entire world upside down in an extreme low angle that sorrowfully beholds her tragic fall.

Finally, Chingachgook takes on his son’s killer in a duel, and it is just as he is about to land the final blow that Mann pauses on a tremendous wide shot of them standing face-to-face against a vast, mountainous backdrop. Both native men were only brought into conflict through the interference of white settlers and are blocked here as equals, but it is Chingachgook who ultimately holds the upper hand with his long, curved gunstock war club hanging between them. Anticipation bleeds through the stillness of the composition, and yet there is also a quiet sorrow here as the last Mohican delivers his coup de grâce, anguished that he was pushed to commit such terrible violence.

Gazing out at the horizon and praying for Uncas’ deceased soul, Cora, Chingachgook, and Hawkeye’s profiles are perfectly aligned, united in the harmony they have long sought for and attained at great cost. These remarkable visuals are not unusual for Mann, though the sensitive storytelling of The Last of the Mohicans certainly is, dwelling in serene sorrow without the need for release. His grand mythologising of colonial America forecasts a bleak future, solemnly recognising that the Mohican tribe will soon perish with Chingachgook, and yet it is also through this native elder and his adopted son Mohawk that the seeds of cross-cultural peace miraculously begin to grow in the infertile soil of war.

The Last of the Mohicans is currently streaming on Stan, is available to rent or buy on Apple TV and Amazon Video, and the Blu-ray can be bought on Amazon.