Odds are your first thought watching any Taylor Sheridan picture wouldn’t be something like, "Look at these strong, powerful women dominating every scene.” That’s not because Sheridan can’t craft compelling and charismatic female characters (think of Emily Blunt’s Kate in Sicario or Isabel May’s Elsa in 1883), it’s just that his stories usually center hyper-masculine men living in rural places or working a kind of job that made them this way. Naturally, the women around them are inferior, pushed into the background, and viewed as weak.
1923, Sheridan's latest installment in his Yellowstone franchise, begins the same way: Men eliciting range wars, half-nakedly killing leopards, and holding the reins of power in a Catholic boarding school for indigenous girls. But as the show’s plot progresses and violence ensues, many of these men fall victim to situations they can’t control. They’re forced to retreat, and the women behind them — or under their power — need to step up and take charge. Even as a fan of the writer/director's male-centered narratives, I must admit it's refreshing to see strong women stealing the spotlight from the cowboys. In the all-macho world of Montana, this is a somewhat unexpected (though timely) move, and Sheridan gives us signs from the beginning that his latest western will shift towards feminist empowerment.
Right in the opening scene of the pilot, we meet Cara Dutton (a 77-year-old Helen Mirren at her finest) chasing down a man in the woods and shooting him dead with a shotgun. It’s a clear indication of how crucial the role of women will be throughout the eight episodes. By halfway through the season, Cara becomes the spectacle of the show, entirely dominating the main storyline. Her turning point comes in Episode 3, when the Duttons are ambushed by Banner Creighton (Jerome Flynn) and his bunch, and their patriarch Jacob (a dignified and restrained Harrison Ford) gets shot and nearly bleeds out in front of his wife. There and then, fuelled by rage and desperation, Cara runs down and kills one of the men who attacked them.
Although Jacob makes it through the night — thanks to his wife’s composure and nurturing — his severe wounds will need a lot of rest and time to heal. At that point, Cara knows if their enemies sniff out that Jacob is bedridden, they will come for them and the ranch. So she does what she needs (taking her husband’s place as a leader) in order to survive. From then on, she tends to her weak husband, runs the ranch, makes decisions about the cattle, and represents the Duttons at the livestock conference to keep up the illusion of power. She singlehandedly carries her family’s future for months. Her authority demands obedience from people who disagree with her choices and respect from savage men who want to stomp her. Before our eyes, Cara Dutton transforms from a gentle, soft-spoken, and caring housewife into a ruling, predominant, and savvy matriarch who uses wit over violence to protect her tribe.
Yet Sheridan never lets us completely forget the pressures and obligations she’s dealing with as an elderly woman, which take a toll on her. When nobody sees, Cara whispers prayers under the ocean-blue Montana sky, wipes tears from her eyes, and asks for God’s help. These intimate moments humanize her character, providing a layer of vulnerability that makes us relate to her on a profound level. There are also the letters she writes to her grandson Spencer (Brandon Sklenar), which reveal a maternal kindness to her — articulating a great love she holds toward younger men she treats as her own children. It makes one wonder why Sheridan hasn't chosen her to narrate the series instead of dragging Elsa's (Isabel May) voiceover from 1883, which feels a little out of place here.
Regardless, thanks to Mirren’s fierce and dedicated portrayal, Cara is the focal point of the series. An underheard voice of reason and stability that represents an often overlooked female perspective that’s just as essential (if not more) as any male character’s.
The other storyline that's fascinatingly dominated by a woman takes place at a Catholic boarding school. In there, bigoted white nuns and priests attempt to raise, educate, and more importantly, beat the Indian out of young Native American girls. Out of 1923’s three main plotlines, this is, by far, the most intriguing that would easily deserve to be a show on its own. Here, we follow Teonna Rainwater (Aminah Nieves is a revelation), who fights to her last breath not to submit to these cruel racists and allow them to deprive her of her roots. She’d rather die for who she is than live like someone they want her to be.
The inhumane treatment she repeatedly endures is wicked and excruciating. We see her get constantly beaten by a sadistic nun, molested by another, and physically humiliated in front of her peers. Watching her relentless torture for months, it’s a miracle her soul doesn’t crack open like a skull. With every added moment of injustice, we feel her rage and vengeance growing inside, screaming for retribution. And since Sheridan is one of those writers who relishes in a brutal and ferociously satisfying payoff, Teonna gets (or rather earns) the chance to retaliate.
When she beats Sister Mary almost to death with a bible, Sheridan not only warrants her power as a woman but also allows the character to reinstate justice as an aboriginal person of this land. While she suffocates her abuser, she whispers these words in her native tongue, "Know I am the land. Know it is the land that's killing you… I am the land, and I am killing you." There aren't a lot of moments in the series that feel as earned and gratifying as this one. Nieves puts every ounce of her heritage into this force of nature of a performance. She brings a sort of virtuous aura and an elemental force to it that culminates the suffering indigenous people went through for decades. It's a depiction that highlights female resilience and an extraordinary vigor to fight oppression. Without question, Teonna is one of the most impressively written and portrayed characters in the series.
However, as the plot unfolds toward the end of the season, the power dynamics inevitably shift back to the male protagonists. Nevertheless, 1923’s attempt to implement a refreshing approach that defies traditional gender roles remains a welcome change in the westerns of television. And since the series was renewed for another chapter, we'll see if this unconventional and reinvigorating perspective will continue in Season 2.
In The Screen’s previous edition, I wrote about Apple TV+’s sexy and twisty crime caper, Sharper, with Julianne Moore and Sebastian Stan. Next week, I’ll come with a surprise feature of The Last of Us and more.
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