How ‘Dark Winds’ Channeled David Lynch to Create a Fever Dream Explaining Joe Leaphorn’s Generational Trauma

⚠️ MAJOR SPOILER WARNING: The following narrative reveals significant plot points from the third season’s sixth episode of “Dark Winds,” entitled “What He Had Been Told,” which is currently available for streaming on AMC. Proceed with caution if you wish to avoid spoilers!

As a passionate cinephile, I’ve found myself deeply immersed in the gripping narrative of “Dark Winds” season 3. My character, Joe Leaphorn, portrayed by Zahn McClarnon, has been tormented by spectral entities, chiefly Ye’iitsoh, the Navajo’s Big Giant. The chilling presence of this creature has intensified since I took the life of B.J. Vines, the wealthy and villainous character played by John Diehl, in season 2. This season, I’ve been haunted by more than just memories.

In my latest viewing experience, as the curtain fell on last week’s episode, I found myself once again face to face with the enigmatic Ye’iitsoh. The question that lingered was: was this a figment of Joe’s imagination or an actual encounter? This week, Episode 6 offers a deep dive into Joe’s past, revealing how his experiences molded him into the complex character we see today.

Under the guidance of Director Erica Tremblay, the creative team embarked on the task of devising a story that mirrors a vivid dream experienced by character Joe. This dream involves his return to his childhood home, where he encounters not only his parents and younger self, but also addresses a delicate subject – his past trauma involving his cousin Will being mistreated by a Catholic priest. Aware of the immense responsibility in portraying such historical trauma, Tremblay and her team initially considered the perspective of a boarding school setting, yet soon decided against it.

Billy Luther, a Navajo writer and director, was raised listening to Diné folklore and historical tales which influenced the creation of his monster-slaying narrative. The story would commence with a school play depicting the lore surrounding monsters, leading into three interwoven narratives: the ancient Navajo tale of the Hero Twins battling the Ye’iitsoh; Joe Leaphorn’s current struggle against a season-long tormenting monster; and the unveiling of a significant childhood trauma that holds deep personal significance.

Tremblay delved into the method employed by the writer’s room to tackle Native American historical trauma, collaborating with McClarnon and the reason behind holding his hand during a crucial scene, as well as the role David Lynch‘s visuals played in helping her navigate between different realms.

Take me into the writer’s room. What was discussed about how you would approach this episode?

This particular episode was quite challenging to locate. Initially, it centered around a boarding school, but due to numerous factors that concerned the Native writers among us, we collectively felt that delving into a boarding school setting would require extensive exploration of historical context. After watching “Sugarcane,” we had several discussions and ultimately agreed that addressing this topic through a community church instead of within the boarding school itself was more appropriate.

That sparked numerous discussions about Leaphorn’s history and the recurring theme of a relentless pursuer in this series, symbolizing his internal struggles such as trauma, PTSD, feelings of guilt, and embarrassment.

In this episode, it was Max Hurwitz (a writer and executive producer) who proposed an innovative idea: telling the story from a children’s perspective. Billy Luther, a Navajo writer on the team, had grown up listening to the tale of the monster slayer, which sparked the inspiration. The character Leaphorn delves into his subconscious as he unearths a deeply suppressed childhood trauma that he can barely recall. This inner exploration reveals the various motives behind his actions against B.J Vines, and how this early life event influenced his decision to become a police officer. It also sheds light on why Leaphorn perceives corruption within the justice system and ultimately resorted to taking matters into his own hands. This childhood trauma, therefore, has colored both his reasons for becoming a cop and his perspective on the flaws in the legal system.

The episode opens with the voiceover and the hero twins reenacting the Ye’iitsoh mythology in a play. How did the idea come together?

This episode will immerse you into the rich tapestry of Diné mythology as we deviate from conventional “Dark Winds” narratives. Instead, prepare for a surreal journey through dreamscapes. We scoured extensively to discover the perfect location, which turned out to be a Shriners building boasting 1920s hand-painted backdrops on its stage. This unique setting serves to anchor the episode within the mythology that drives Leaphorn’s feverish reverie.

You’re dealing with Leaphorn’s monster and his trauma. What discussions did you have with your collaborators, production designer, composer and cinematographer about how this fever dream needed to look and sound?

This task was quite demanding due to the multitude of responsibilities it held, while simultaneously adhering to the same budget and scope as every other episode. During the planning sessions, there was a wealth of creative suggestions. The contrast between the vibrant dreamscapes and deserts in Joe’s imagination, compared to the cooler tones when he’s with George in reality at night, were intentional choices.

As an avid cinema enthusiast, I immersed myself in a plethora of anime, notably “Perfect Blue.” Drawing inspiration from the surreal mastery of David Lynch, I pondered over inventive transitions between scenes for this production. In my quest to infuse creativity, I found myself revisiting gems like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “Everything Everywhere All at Once.” These cinematic marvels served as beacons, guiding me in my pursuit to capture some of that magic and weave it into this very episode.

The dinner scene was a great metaphor with the broken plate and being in his “childhood” home. What did that mean to represent?

One of the most captivating shifts I encountered throughout the entire episode was this one: He’s wandering in a desert, carrying a basketball, when he passes through a door. To his surprise, it’s not just his childhood home, but also where he lives now. Dreams often work that way – they combine experiences from our present with recollections of the past, creating a seamless blend.

He takes a seat next to someone he recognizes as George, but upon gazing at him, he suddenly recognizes himself instead. He’s slowly comprehending the situation, coming to terms with being in the past. What makes this intriguing is that every individual at that table is Joe Leaphorn – an interpretation that holds true even for his dialogue with the priest. In many ways, as the priest requests forgiveness during their conversation, he too seeks forgiveness. This was one of the initial scenes we filmed, allowing us to explore various aspects of his subconscious mind.

We get to see Joe Leaphorn witnessing Will and the abuse by the priest. How did you want to approach telling this part of the historical trauma?

From the start, our discussions in the writer’s room centered around exploring these particular topics and themes, recognizing the need for authenticity to Leaphorn’s narrative while avoiding any depiction that might be retraumatizing to Native American communities.

It required patience and attention to detail as we meticulously crafted its appearance during the writing process of the show. It was essential that everyone involved felt comfortable with it. We relied on our intuition and the contributions of our non-Native team members. Our aim was to confront the apprehension we were experiencing, and find creative ways to portray this somber history authentically, without causing distress or re-traumatization for our Native viewers and colleagues working on the project.

Zahn and I talked about finding an approach that would cause minimal impact on us as indigenous individuals, considering our family history of attending boarding schools or experiencing abuse by the church. We shared our personal experiences, acknowledging the ongoing struggles we face due to Western systems undermining our culture and the lingering effects of violence they’ve caused. At one point, Zahn and I looked at each other and I said, ‘This might be a daunting journey, but we are the right people for this task. If we’re going to undertake it, it will be us working together.’

What about shooting this sequence?

As a dedicated cinephile stepping into this episode, I decided from the get-go that the day we’d film this crucial scene would be one where only essential crew members were present. To ensure the comfort and well-being of our talented actor, Enzo Okuma Linton (Will), who is a young Native individual in the scene, we invited an intimacy coordinator to oversee the process. This step was taken to alleviate any discomfort for Enzo and his parents, while also preserving the positive energy needed to bring out the best performance in this scene.

Among the most moving instances I’ve encountered as a director occurred during that particular scene. We filmed everything featuring Will and the priest initially – this was Zahn’s decision – and he desired to save all his close-ups for the final part of the scene. The challenge here was for him to uncover the truth about what transpired to his cousin when they were children. This scene evokes a sense of powerlessness, as the character is a child, and in this case, a Native American child, observing an event perpetrated by a priest who holds significant influence within their system.

We attempted multiple attempts, and he was visibly upset, which is completely reasonable given the situation. Approaching him, I said, “I believe there’s more than just frustration inside you about this, but I don’t want to push you into a place where you’re uncomfortable, as I recognize how complex it can be to respond to something like this.

His feelings are evidently a mix of anger, shame, and sadness, which is clearly visible. After uttering just a single sentence, he pleads, “Erica, I’m unable to handle this alone. You need to join me here.

Reflecting on it brings tears to my eyes. Stepping aside from his cell, he was just out of view, our hands touching through the bars as his extraordinary performance unfolded. In that instant, both as a director and as a fellow Native American, I felt a profound sense of trust. That moment required us, Zahn and me, to relinquish control, trust each other implicitly, and know we would be there for one another.

We were delving into sensitive and challenging ground for Native Americans. When we said “cut,” we knew we had captured something genuine. Zahn’s acting was nothing less than exceptional. The intimacy of our closed set, our shared experiences in this world, and the trust that allowed us to open up and be vulnerable were essential to achieving what we did. Without these elements, we wouldn’t have been able to reach that powerful moment.

As two individuals from indigenous backgrounds, expressing something sincere and authentic, it’s a television program that offers entertainment, but beyond that, the significance of what we do resonates deeply because we’ve been seldom granted this platform to articulate our thoughts in our unique voices, utilizing our creative freedom.

This episode is about monsters that we have to face in both the literal and metaphorical sense, but also deals with what we learn from facing that trauma. You’ve said that you’ve been given your artistic license to tell this story, what does it mean to have it out there?

In many instances throughout the story, characters are forced to confront painful memories and past injustices. For example, when Joe talks with his father on the stump, he must delve into a hidden, agonizing memory about his role in B.J.’s death. This act of self-forgiveness is symbolized by the flashbacks between the monster slayer and the hero twins, as they battle the monster. The bloody handprint serves as a reminder that the monster isn’t a mythical creature but rather a human being responsible for inflicting pain on others. The episode’s message, in my opinion, is that historical atrocities towards Native Americans, such as genocide, lack of justice, and individual acts of violence, are the true monsters to be confronted. I hope this lesson resonates with non-Native viewers as well.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

2025-04-14 05:50