Kevin Costner was basically told he was crazy. In the late eighties, the "Western" was a dead language in Hollywood. It was dusty, outdated, and frankly, a financial sinkhole. But then came the Dances with Wolves movie, a three-hour epic that didn't just break the rules—it rewrote them entirely. It’s kinda wild to think about now, but at the time, people were calling it "Kevin's Gate," a nasty jab at the legendary box office disaster Heaven’s Gate. They expected a vanity project. Instead, they got a masterpiece that took home seven Oscars, including Best Picture.
Honestly, the movie's success wasn't just about the sweeping landscapes or the stirring John Barry score. It was the shift in perspective. For decades, cinema treated Indigenous people as one-dimensional villains or "noble savages" existing only in the periphery of a white protagonist's journey. While Michael Blake’s story (and Costner’s direction) still centers on a Union soldier, Lieutenant John Dunbar, it treats the Lakota Sioux with a level of specificity, language, and humanity that was virtually unheard of in a blockbuster at the time.
The gamble that saved the Western
Costner put his own money on the line. About $3 million of it, which was a massive chunk of his personal net worth back then. He was obsessed with getting the details right. He didn't want a "Hollywood" version of the frontier. He wanted the dirt, the wind, and the bone-chilling silence of the South Dakota plains.
The production was a logistical nightmare.
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You’ve got thousands of buffalo. You’ve got actors who need to learn Lakota. You’ve got a director who is also the lead actor, sitting on a horse in the middle of nowhere, trying to manage a budget that was ballooning toward $22 million. Most people don't realize that a huge portion of the dialogue is subtitled. In 1990, that was considered commercial suicide. Studio execs thought audiences would hate reading their movies. They were wrong. The subtitles added an immersive layer that made the world feel lived-in and authentic.
A different kind of protagonist
John Dunbar isn't your typical frontiersman. He’s a man looking for a quiet place to die, or at least a place to see the frontier before it’s gone. His journey from a suicidal soldier to "Dances with Wolves" is slow. It’s deliberate. The movie takes its time—literally hours—to show him earning the trust of the tribe.
There's that famous scene where he tries to communicate the concept of a "buffalo" to Kicking Bird, played by the incomparable Graham Greene. It's funny, awkward, and deeply human. It strips away the mythos of the "Indian Warrior" and replaces it with two guys trying to bridge a massive cultural gap over a cup of coffee.
Accuracy, the Lakota language, and the "White Savior" debate
Let's get into the weeds of the controversy, because you can't talk about the Dances with Wolves movie without mentioning the "white savior" trope. Critics like the late Edward Said or various film historians have pointed out that, ultimately, the story is still seen through the eyes of a white man. Dunbar becomes the hero who warns the tribe of the impending "white tide."
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But there’s a nuance here that often gets missed.
The Lakota characters—Kicking Bird, Wind In His Hair, Black Shawl—have their own agency, their own humor, and their own political disagreements. They aren't a monolith. To ensure accuracy, the production hired Doris Leader Charge, a Lakota language instructor at Sinte Gleska University. She didn't just translate the script; she taught the actors the specific cadence of the language. She even appeared in the film as Pretty Shield, the wife of Chief Ten Bears.
- Language: Roughly 25% of the film is in the Lakota language.
- Casting: Costner insisted on casting Native American actors for Native roles, which seems like a "duh" move now, but in 1990, it was a major departure from the "redface" casting of Old Hollywood.
- Costumes: Elsa Zamparelli spent months researching authentic Lakota designs, using real hides and period-accurate beadwork.
It wasn't perfect, sure. Some historians point out that the Pawnee are depicted somewhat one-dimensionally as the "bad guys" to make the Sioux look better. History is always messier than a screenplay, and the inter-tribal politics of the 1860s were incredibly complex. But compared to what came before it? It was a revolution.
The buffalo hunt: A technical miracle
If you haven't seen the buffalo hunt scene in a while, go back and watch it. There’s no CGI. None.
In the 2020s, we're used to digital crowds and fake animals. In 1990, Costner and his crew used 3,500 real buffalo on the Triple U Ranch in South Dakota. They had to use 20 pickup trucks, 150 horses, and a fleet of helicopters to keep the herd moving. It took eight days to film that sequence.
There's a shot where a buffalo charges a young boy, and it's terrifyingly real. They actually used a domesticated buffalo named Cody (who supposedly had a thing for Oreo cookies) to get the close-up charge shots. That raw, tactile energy is why the movie still holds up. You can feel the dust in your teeth.
Why the movie still hits hard in 2026
We live in an era of "fast" media. Everything is edited for TikTok attention spans. But the Dances with Wolves movie demands that you sit still. It's a "slow cinema" blockbuster. It asks you to care about the relationship between a man and a wolf (Two Socks) and the tragedy of a disappearing way of life.
The ending isn't a "happily ever after." It’s a gut-punch.
As Dunbar and Stands With A Fist (Mary McDonnell) ride away into the mountains, the text on the screen reminds us that the culture we just spent three hours falling in love with was systematically dismantled by the end of the century. It’s a mourning for the frontier.
The film's impact on the industry was massive. It cleared the way for Unforgiven, Last of the Mohicans, and eventually, things like The Revenant or Killers of the Flower Moon. It proved that there was an appetite for "serious" Westerns that dealt with the dark heart of American expansion.
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Key takeaways for film buffs
If you're revisiting this classic or watching it for the first time, keep an eye on the cinematography by Dean Semler. He used a lot of "golden hour" lighting, which gives the whole film a dreamlike, elegiac quality. It’s supposed to feel like a memory.
- Check out the Extended Cut: If you have the stamina, the four-hour version adds a lot of context to the Pawnee/Sioux conflict and Dunbar's back-story at the abandoned fort.
- Listen to the Score: John Barry's work here is arguably one of the top five film scores of all time. It captures the vastness of the prairie in a way that dialogue never could.
- Look at the supporting cast: This was a breakout for Rodney A. Grant (Wind In His Hair) and Wes Studi, who would go on to become one of the most recognizable faces in the genre.
How to apply the film's lessons today
Don't just watch it as a period piece. Think about the themes of "un-learning" your own biases. Dunbar starts the movie thinking he's going to see "the Indians" as a curiosity. He ends it realizing he's the one who was lost.
- Seek out Indigenous-led cinema: If you liked the perspective in Dances, watch Reservation Dogs or Killers of the Flower Moon to see how Native storytelling has evolved since 1990.
- Support film preservation: Movies shot on 70mm like this one are best seen on the biggest screen possible. Check for local screenings of restored prints.
- Research the real history: Read up on the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 to see the actual legal and political environment that Dunbar would have been stepping into. It makes the ending of the film even more tragic when you realize how much was legally stolen.
The Dances with Wolves movie isn't just a flick about a guy who likes nature. It's a massive, flawed, beautiful attempt to reconcile with the American past. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the biggest risk—like making a three-hour subtitled Western—is the only way to make something that actually lasts.