"I Am Your Friend": Re-visiting "Dances with Wolves"

I hadn’t seen Dances with Wolves since it came out in 1990. I remembered vague impressions—wide-open landscapes, slow storytelling, and a swelling score that made something deep inside me ache. I was 25 back then, and I remember walking out of the theater feeling like I had just witnessed something important, though I couldn’t quite explain why.

Watching it again recently, in small portions over several quiet evenings, I was struck not only by the epic beauty of the cinematography and John Barry’s unforgettable music, but by something more profound: the tension in how we label people—especially the use of the word savage.

As a reminder, Dances with Wolves tells the story of Lt. John Dunbar, a disillusioned Union soldier who, through an unlikely assignment to a remote frontier outpost, comes into contact with a Lakota Sioux tribe. As he gradually befriends them—learning their language, witnessing their family bonds, sharing meals and struggles—he is drawn into their way of life. He becomes known by a new name: Dances with Wolves.

The film won seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director for Kevin Costner. It was a surprise success on every level. But more than that, it dared to invert the narrative of the “Western.” Instead of portraying Native Americans as hostile and primitive, it gave them depth, dignity, and voice.

The Word “Savage”

As I rewatched the film, it is easy to see an editors viewpoint- challenging the audience to question-Who is the real savage? Instead of bristling over what may be virtue signaling, it is a reality that we ALL have 'savage' tendencies.. and the movie attempts to find that balance, it is more subtle than current Hollywood movies that beat you to death with the UN-subtle propaganda.

The word savage has a long and telling history. It comes from the Latin silvaticus, meaning of the woods—something wild, uncultivated, untamed. Over time, it became a pejorative term used by colonial powers to describe those who didn’t share European customs or values. Savage didn’t just mean someone wild—it came to mean less than human.

In the film, we see soldiers and settlers apply this label to the Lakota, justifying their fear, cruelty, and eventual violence. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that the so-called savages are, in fact, the ones showing the greatest humanity—welcoming a stranger, showing loyalty, living with courage and purpose.

This tension isn't new to literature. The phrase “noble savage” is actually a literary trope that traces back at least to the 17th and 18th centuries, particularly in Enlightenment thinking. I remember first reading that phrase while reading literary criticism of James Fenimore Cooper, Last of the Mohicans.  The idea shows up, implicitly or explicitly, in the Leatherstocking Tales, especially through Cooper’s portrayal of Native characters like Chingachgook and Uncas. 

These characters were seen as tragic figures—noble, wise, but doomed to extinction as progress advanced. Many writers idealized indigenous people as uncorrupted by civilization—a kind of purity lost to those in the developed world. It was a reaction to the excesses and hypocrisies of European society, but it still carried its own kind of stereotype.

What Dances with Wolves does so well is allow these individuals to be neither villain nor ideal—just human. With flaws, virtues, wisdom, and pain. The real transformation, then, happens not in them—but in Dunbar, who learns to see and value what he once didn’t understand.

So where did the film leave me this time?

There is a long road between the phrase “You are a savage” and the statement “I am your friend.”

Those words—spoken by Wind in His Hair in one of the film’s final, most emotional moments—hit me harder than they did 35 years ago. It is a public declaration of friendship, trust, and shared identity across a chasm that once seemed unbridgeable.

Distance is important here- the farther we get away from other humans tend to make them seem more savage than they may be.

We are quick today to label people as “other.” Out of the woods. Not like us. We still do it, just with updated vocabulary. And every time we do, we’re shrinking their humanity to make space for our pride.

But Scripture teaches something deeper. All people bear the image of God. That means they are infinitely valuable—not because of how they dress or what culture shaped them, but because God Himself has imprinted His likeness upon them.

The gospel offers us an even more powerful transformation. Paul writes in Romans 5:1:

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

There was a time when we, too, were at war with God. Not in open rebellion always—but in quiet indifference, self-reliance, and sin. But God, in His mercy, did not label us “savage” and leave us outside the camp. Instead, He sent His Son.

Jesus says in John 15:15, “I no longer call you servants… I have called you friends.”

The great “I AM” became I am your friend.

That is the truest reversal. The divine becoming human. The innocent dying for the guilty. The justifier of the ungodly making peace—real peace—where there had once been separation.

God closes the gap and we see Him differently as well!

Dances with Wolves reminded me not only of the fragility of labels, but the depth of what real friendship looks like. It requires humility, listening, sacrifice—and sometimes it means leaving your post and stepping into someone else’s world.

My prayer is that we walk the long road from judgment to friendship in our own lives—and we never forget the One who made that journey all the way to a cross, so we could go from enemy to friend, from savage to saved.

Song: Call Me Savage