Brett Bentman, who has made a name for himself on the indie circuit with his modern/ Western category films, departs from the norm with his latest, “Buckskin,” slated for a December 2021 release. Set in 1820, the film is a period piece of a group of Texan fur trappers wrapped up in a morality tale of right and wrong, and how sometimes vague that line can be. It has the trappings of battles between American Indians and settlers, lined with forced alliances and often racism. But, amidst it all, it settles on one man, an ex-trapper named Porter (Tom Zembrod), who comes to face his destiny—a hard sell for a man who isn’t sure he believes fate exists.
“Buckskin,” for its scope, isn’t a slow-burn, and makes its way through it’s one hour and twenty-minutes quite quickly, which may be its only major criticism. We learn a couple of things off the bat: one, that a group of trappers recently fell victim to local tribal Indians in the Buckskin Woods, which are purported to be haunted. Second, that the son of Captain Coleman (“The Rodeo Thief’s” Robert Keith) has been killed and Coleman’s grandson (Blaze Freeman) is missing. Coleman is a tight-ship kind of guy who demands respect he doesn’t earn—we see in a couple of sequences that he cares more for the pelts than he does the men, and merely balks at the passing of Porter’s children who have died from fever while the man was away trapping for him. But he taps Porter—now a cook who has given up trapping—to venture into the woods and save his grandson, which the man hesitantly accepts.
For a period piece, Bentman, along with Costume Designer Stacey Lea and Production Managers Abigail Flippin and Emma Siate, bask the film in the proper amount of rugged, aged feel. You don’t feel you’re watching a modern film trying to be period, but rather feel you are right there along with them. The film’s polish reminded me on one hand of “Ravenous” and the other hand “The Revenant” in its styling. The bleak, desolate surroundings and hard times of Coleman’s camp are apropos, and the sound design by Alfonso Flores matches the mood, fluctuating between somber and intense in equal measure.
I was also surprised at the special effects the film offers (which I learned was done by actor Zembrod along with Andy Arrasmith), which, sometimes involving deadly arrows, knives, and tomahawks, came off as realistic and not over-the-top with a gore that threatens to take them out of reality.
But what works most about “Buckskin” is you like Porter as a character. He’s a mixed bag: he’s done some awful deeds in the past—namely the murder of many Indians who were tracking him—but he’s had the devastating cost of the loss of his sons to weigh on his conscience. He struggles with many concepts, such as loss, love, and empathy, though his rage sometimes takes the best of him. A scene where he sees the humanity in an outcasted camp-mate who was burned by “the savages” was touching and awe-inspiring. However, a later scene as he attacks two Indians in revenge is cold and bitter.
Zembrod brings the necessary depth to the role, and handles the material well. He’s required to be tough, vulnerable, guilty, righteous, and a survivor in equal measure, and the script by Bentman allows him the range needed, which Zembrod acts with ease. Some survival instincts and scenes are inserted into the script which allow Porter’s character to appear real and seasoned.
It’s hard to review the rest of this film without spoilers, but suffice to say it is filled with some twists and turns involving Porter, Coleman’s long-lost grandson, and the notion of fate, which Bentman stated to this writer was “inescapable.” “Buckskin” covers a lot of ground during its last 30 minutes, and I suppose my only criticism of the film is that I wish it had tacked on another 15 minutes or so to really explore Porter’s past deeds and his relationship to Coleman’s grandson, who is really more or less Porter’s conscience than flesh-and-blood man. It’s a lot of philosophy trapped inside a short run-time that once or twice I found unclear. But it’s forgivable. “Buckskin’s” final shots, which won’t be spoiled here—especially one with Porter—include material that make independent films so awe-inspiring to begin with: there’s no fluff, just emotion, and Bentman and company capture it beautifully.
“Buckskin” is a good film. Bentman’s first foray into a period piece is thoughtful and executed beautifully, the sound design, cinematography, and editing is crisp and marvelous, and the actors service the material well. Some additional themes, such as racism, genocide, and expansion at whatever cost are visited on briefly, and would have benefited from a little more time in discovery, but they don’t dent the film’s success and provide food for thought—which may have been Bentman’s intention all along. All-in-all, what we have here is a solid film that should please its viewers, and one that shows a more vulnerable Bentman than previously seen.
