Kevin Costner took a massive gamble in 1990. People called his project "Kevin's Gate," mocking the three-hour runtime and the fact that a huge chunk of the dialogue was in Lakota. They were wrong. The movie didn't just win seven Oscars; it changed how Hollywood looked at the American frontier. When we talk about dances with wolves main characters, we aren't just talking about names on a script. We’re talking about a cast that had to carry the weight of a corrected history.
Honestly, it's the faces you remember. The weary eyes of Graham Greene. The quiet intensity of Mary McDonnell. It wasn't just a "cowboy and Indian" flick. It was a character study about identity and what happens when the world you knew stops making sense.
John J. Dunbar: The Man Who Wanted to See the Frontier
Lieutenant John J. Dunbar is a weird protagonist for a Western. Usually, these guys are looking for gold or revenge. Dunbar? He’s looking for himself. Or maybe he’s just looking to die before he actually passes away. After his accidental heroics in the Civil War, he asks for a post at the edge of the world. He wants to see the frontier "before it's gone."
Costner plays him with this sort of wide-eyed, exhausted curiosity. He starts as a soldier of the Union and ends as a man of the Lakota. His transformation isn't some "white savior" trope, though some critics later argued it was. If you look closely at the performance, Dunbar is the one being saved. He’s clumsy. He’s lost. He spends half his time trying to communicate with a wolf because he's so lonely he's losing his mind.
The name "Dances with Wolves" isn't just a cool title; it's a description of his transition from a cog in a military machine to a human being with a soul. He stops being "Lieutenant" and starts being a neighbor.
Kicking Bird: The Soul of the Lakota
Graham Greene’s Kicking Bird is arguably the heart of the entire film. He’s a holy man, but he’s also a pragmatist. He sees the tide coming. He knows the "Whites" are coming in numbers that the Lakota can't even fathom.
While the younger warriors want to fight, Kicking Bird wants to understand. He’s the one who initiates contact with Dunbar. He’s patient. He’s curious. Greene brought a dry, understated humor to the role that made the Lakota feel like real people rather than the stoic, wooden caricatures usually seen in 20th-century cinema.
Fun fact: Graham Greene actually wore a piece of bologna in his shoes during some scenes to help him walk with the specific gait he wanted for the character. It’s those little physical choices that make Kicking Bird feel so grounded. He isn't some mystical oracle; he's a leader trying to save his people from an invisible storm.
Stands With A Fist: The Bridge Between Worlds
Mary McDonnell had a tough job. She had to play a woman who had forgotten her native tongue. Stands With A Fist was born Christine, a white settler whose family was killed by the Pawnee. She was taken in by the Lakota, and by the time Dunbar arrives, she’s more Lakota than he will ever be.
Her performance is all about the struggle of memory. You see it in the way she winces when she tries to speak English. It’s painful for her. She is the literal bridge between Dunbar and the tribe. Without her, the dances with wolves main characters would never have been able to communicate. She’s the translator of culture, not just language.
The romance between her and Dunbar works because it’s built on shared trauma. Both have lost their original "tribes"—him through disillusionment with war, her through tragedy. They are two ghosts finding a way to live again.
Wind In His Hair: From Hostility to Brotherhood
If Kicking Bird is the diplomat, Wind In His Hair is the warrior. Rodney A. Grant played this role with such raw power. In the beginning, he’s the guy screaming at Dunbar from a horse, telling him he isn't afraid. He represents the natural, justified suspicion of the Lakota toward the encroaching white man.
But his arc is maybe the most satisfying in the movie.
The transition from "I want to kill this man" to "This is my friend" is earned. It isn't immediate. It happens through shared buffalo hunts and defending the village. The final scene—where he’s shouting from the clifftop as Dunbar rides away—is one of the most emotional moments in film history. "Dances with Wolves! I am Wind In His Hair! Do you see that I am your friend? Can you see that you will always be my friend?"
It’s loud. It’s desperate. It’s heartbreaking.
The Supporting Players: Timmons and Two Socks
You can’t talk about the cast without mentioning the "non-human" or "sub-human" characters that fill the margins.
Take Timmons, the mule driver played by Robert Pastorelli. He’s gross. He’s crude. He represents the "ugliness" of the frontier—the illiterate, unwashed vanguard of civilization that treated the land like a trash can. His death at the hands of the Pawnee is brutal, but it serves a narrative purpose. It cuts Dunbar’s last tie to the world he left behind.
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And then there's Two Socks.
The wolf is a character. Period. He represents the wildness that Dunbar is trying to befriend. The scene where the soldiers shoot Two Socks just for sport? It’s arguably the most hated scene in cinema for animal lovers, but it’s the turning point. It shows that the "civilized" world is often more barbaric than the "savage" one.
The Antagonists: Pawnee and the US Cavalry
It’s easy to say the "villain" is the Army, but the movie is more nuanced than that. The Pawnee, led by Wes Studi’s terrifying "Touhest Pawnee," are the immediate threat. Studi is incredible here. He doesn't say much, but his presence is pure menace.
Then you have the Union soldiers who arrive at the end. They aren't "evil" in a mustache-twirling way. They’re just ignorant. They see Dunbar in Lakota dress and see a traitor, not a man. They represent the bureaucracy of manifest destiny—unfeeling, rigid, and ultimately destructive.
Why These Characters Still Matter Today
People still watch Dances with Wolves because the characters feel authentic. Michael Blake, who wrote both the novel and the screenplay, spent years researching the culture. The movie used actual Lakota speakers to check the dialogue.
The dances with wolves main characters broke the mold of the 1950s Western. They weren't tropes. They were fathers, daughters, skeptics, and dreamers.
The film does have its detractors. Some modern historians point out that the Pawnee were portrayed too one-dimensionally as the "bad" tribe to make the Lakota look better. Others find the "White Savior" element problematic. But you can't deny the impact. For many viewers in 1990, this was the first time they ever saw Native Americans portrayed with internal lives, humor, and complex political motivations.
Understanding the Archetypes
To really get why this movie works, you have to look at the archetypes:
- The Seeker (Dunbar): The man who must lose his identity to find his soul.
- The Mentor (Kicking Bird): The wise leader who knows change is coming.
- The Guardian (Wind In His Hair): The protector who eventually accepts the outsider.
- The Lost Soul (Stands With A Fist): The survivor who bridges two worlds.
Taking Action: How to Experience the Story Today
If you're looking to dive deeper into the world of these characters, don't just stop at the theatrical cut.
- Watch the Extended Cut: There is a four-hour version of the film that adds massive depth to Dunbar’s early days at Fort Sedgwick and more background on the Lakota village. It makes the transition feel even more earned.
- Read the Original Novel: Michael Blake’s book is the source material. It’s a bit different—for instance, in the book, the "wolf" scenes are even more central to Dunbar's psychological state.
- Visit the Locations: Much of the film was shot in South Dakota. Places like Spearfish Canyon and the Badlands still carry that "edge of the world" feeling that Dunbar was looking for.
- Research the Lakota Language: The movie used a "gendered" version of the language that some linguists have since debated, but it remains a great starting point for understanding the complexity of Plains Indian cultures.
The characters of Dances with Wolves didn't just exist to fill a screen. They were meant to remind us that "civilization" is a perspective, not a fact. Whether it's Dunbar’s quiet journals or Wind In His Hair’s defiant shouts, these figures remain some of the most etched-in-stone personalities in American cinema.
Check out the 35th Anniversary restorations if you can—the cinematography of the landscapes is just as much a character as the people themselves.