Rife with astonishing black-and-white images of an unknown L.A. and clashing sounds of bars, cinemas and poker games, The Exiles is one of those movies that functions as both artifact and fresh discovery.
Kent MacKenzie's 1961 groundbreaking classic about Native American urban alienation, unfolds like an Edwin Hopper painting in motion as intimate noirish voiceover soliloquies of these three troubled protagonists.
Director Brent MacKenzie's black-and-white documentary/narrative genre blender about urbanized Native Americans in 1961 Los Angeles is a cold glass of cinematic water drawn from the same well as Joseph Strick's "The Savage Eye" (1960).
The amateur actors, many of whom in reality met sad ends on those same streets, are utterly convincing. You have the sense again and again that you've unearthed a time capsule -- a sensation that cinema alone of all the arts can impart.