Original-Cin Q&A: An in-depth chat with star Michael Greyeyes into themes behind the Indigenous zombie horror Blood Quantum

By Thom Ernst

If timing has anything to do with a film’s success, then Jeff Barnaby’s Blood Quantum is comfortably ahead of the curve. The Indigenous-themed zombie horror film premiered at the 2019 Toronto International Film Festival, with screenings to follow at Cinefest in Sudbury, and had been scheduled at the Kingston Canadian Film Festival before Covid-19 forced everyone into quarantine. 

Sheriff Traylor (Michael Greyeyes, middle) leads a besieged band of Mi'kmaq survivors of a zombie apocalypse.

Sheriff Traylor (Michael Greyeyes, middle) leads a besieged band of Mi'kmaq survivors of a zombie apocalypse.

The film was to have a theatrical release, but the shutdown pushed the film to V.O.D.  That makes Blood Quantum not only one of the first films directly affected by Covid-19 but also the first coronavirus themed films.  It is an apocalyptic story about a wide-spread virus; albeit this virus, unlike Covid-19, turns people into zombies—that is unless you happen to be of First Nations Mi'kmaq heritage. First Nations peoples are immune.

The movie plays out like a rethinking, and a reversal, of John Ford’s Fort Apache (1948), with a barricaded community built to protect the uninfected against the infected. It’s a zombie flick, with enough flesh tearing and bone-crunching to keep enthusiasts happy, but it works as a vivid criticism of colonialism and racial conflict. 

In the center of the conflict is Sheriff Traylor, a Mi'kmaq lawman with his inner demons that might not be zombies, but are eating him up, just the same. Tralnor is played by Michael Greyeyes, a busily eclectic Saskatchewan-born actor. 

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A journalist once referred to Greyeyes’ “restless creativity” as a way of explaining his wide range of successes as a scholar, lecturer, choreographer, and dancer. That restless creativity comes through in his voice.  We speak to Greyeyes via phone from his Toronto home. (He, like most of us, stays quarantined in his home. The happy voices of young children can be heard faintly in the background).

Hello Michael. How is the quarantine treating you?

“I’m home. I got a roof over my head. My family is safe, and my dogs love it. I have little to complain about.”

I’m interested in what movies you grew up watching

“I’ve been a fan of films since I can remember. I just loved science fiction. I cut my teeth on films like Planet of the Apes (1968), The Omega Man (1971), and Soylent Green (1973). So, this is where I lived. I was an imaginative kid.”

It probably means nothing, but it’s interesting to note that all those films starred Charlton Heston.

“Hah! That’s true. That’s true. I should also mention Logan’s Run (1976) was a landmark film for me. I went and bought the comic book after. I was obsessed with that. I remember I was in Battleford at my nohkôm’s house and 2001: A Space Odyssey came on television, and I watched it. I remember just sitting on the floor; my mind was blown.”

How old were you?

“Man, I was probably 11 or 12.”

That’s a young age to comprehend 2001. It’s not your typical Sci-fi adventure.

“No. But I was such a fan, I’d watch anything.”

I watch Blood Quantum and wonder if its not a revised, and reversed vision of John Ford’s Fort Apache. In a more general sense, could Blood Quantum be considered an answer to the westerns of the 60s and 70s?

“I don’t see the same parallel. I look at Blood Quantum as sitting squarely inside of the sub-genre of zombie films. I think zombie films are particularly steeped in social commentary. 

“And I think the audience of the genre is familiar with this. Certainly, in Blood Quantum, Jeff (Barnaby) makes ‘hay’ with history, with parallels between his narrative and our situation we’re facing right now in terms of environmental degradation, in terms of xenophobia. 

“There’s a fantastic line in the middle of the film which mystiques the kind of nuance in the story-telling; Devery Jacobs is bringing a guy into the encampment. His daughter has just died, and he was carrying her in a blanket. (Debra) looks at him and says, ‘Dude, are you crazy? You can’t bring that in here.’

“She grabs the blanket and throws it in a fire. It’s just a small moment, but to an Indigenous audience, it’s a profound moment. We understand our history. We understand that infected blankets were used against us. So, when you look at that kind of storytelling, it’s just a small example of something that occurs in the film again and again and again. So, for people that are interested in doing close readings of the content, Blood Quantum will give them a lot.”

Might there even be a bit of criticism of colonialism in the scene you described?

“I think the criticism of colonialism that is inherent in the film was always part of the script. I think, what’s great about working with an Indigenous director is that he doesn’t have to explain that to you, and you don’t have to talk to him about it. 

“That’s our reality. That’s shared knowledge. That’s a shared history. And so, we can move beyond it quickly and just start talking about the work, talking about how we can tell this story more effectively. 

“As in Indigenous actor, I’ve always been in situations my whole career where I’m trying to explain to a director, or a non-Native director, or a producer that we can’t do this… and I’ve got to explain why.  With an Indigenous director, they are already conscious of Hollywood’s history. 

“And so, I look at Blood Quantum. We had a lot of fun making the movie. We were attacking serious subject matter, really complex kinds of stories. We were working inside an Indigenous language Mi'kmaq. Again, we could cut through the layers of the script, and get to the heart of what we want to say, and what is the importance of this character right at this moment.

“So, in the end, we were focused on telling better stories. And that is a great benefit of working inside a shared world view.” 

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Movement is important on stage and in dance. As a dancer, yourself, how do you incorporate movement on film, particularly in a character like Sheriff Traylor?

“I’m a very physical actor. My background is in dance so, I always approach a role from a physical standpoint. Traylor was no different. This is an action movie. This is a movie about finding authenticity in a character’s movement, how they operate, or take up space. 

“For me, Traylor was a complex guy. He was a terrible dad. He was a bad dad, let’s be honest. He was absent. He is a man ill-equipped to handle the end of the world.

“Physically, I enjoyed the filmmaking. It was grueling. We’re running, we’re slipping and sliding in blood and muck. We’re handling weapons, we’re fighting. The audience gets to live through us vicariously. We’re not superheroes. We’re just people trying to make it through the day, make it our of that room, escape that danger. I love doing films with that kind of physical truth. It’s a heightened kind of performance. For me, that was the great joy in playing the part.”

Can you talk about Traylor’s relationship with his sons, Lysol (Kiowa Gordon) and Joseph (Forrest Goodluck)?

“Traylor is complex. I think what’s important for audiences to understand is that Lysol and Joseph, as Traylor’s two sons, are an embodiment of two halves of one man. 

“Lysol didn’t just spring into being. He was raised. He was the product of a family and an upbringing. When you look at his destructive nature, his nihilism, that’s not just Lysol, that’s the product of an upbringing. Jeff’s screenplays are dense, they are complex. Palpably Lysol and Joseph, the good and the bad, to use a simplistic binary, are the product of one man: That’s Traylor. So, the good and the bad exist in him as well.”

What about your parents? You’ve spoken in the past about them being residential school survivors. How might their experience have affected your world view?

“I think we need to understand that the effects of Indian Residential Schools don’t just extend to the students and their families that missed them when they were gone. I think the most profound effect of Indian Residential Schools was downstream. 

“Every child of a residential school survivor survives the same experience in a lot of different ways. For my sister and me, it meant the loss of our language. Both my parents were fluent Cree speakers. While they were at school, the system got inside their head. My sister and I said, ‘Why didn’t you teach us Cree?’ And they were like, ‘Well, you know, you grew up in the city…’

“It was that kind of internalized racism, or I should say reprogrammed world view. So, it meant the loss of language for my sister and me, and my children too. It affects us in surprising ways, but people should know that it affects us continually.” 

What do you mean by a reprogrammed world view?

“I think that’s how these systems work; that’s how reeducation works. You start thinking laterally. And I think one of the most profound lessons of racism is that you turn that racist gaze towards yourself. It’s well documented. I think it’s a profound consequence of that kind of world.”

Is it important for you to be recognized as an Indigenous actor, or is that just one extra qualifier that divides you and your work?

“First of all, I’m proud to represent my community and my family. So, I’m always willing to talk about it. I’m reminded, actually, of something Mahershala Ali said, which is accurate. He said, “I wish that in interviews about my work the question of race and art weren’t so prominent. Because it takes away from the analysis of our work as an artist, and the analysis of the craft, and how seriously we take the craft. 

“For example—Ethan Hawke—or it could be anybody—isn’t usually asked how his ethnicity, or how his cultural background operates on his work. So really, the question to that actor will always be about craft and the choices he makes. 

“In one way, that kind of journalism extenuates the quote-un-quote, excellence of the white actor, and the craft and approach. Whereas actors of colour were icons for larger cultural issues. I appreciate that criticism. They, (journalists) spend a lot of time asking about our communities and our cultural knowledge and less about the art we make.”

Read Thom Ernst’s review of Blood Quantum HERE.

Blood Quantum. Written and directed by Jeff Barnaby. Stars Michael Greyeyes, Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers and Forrest Goodluck. Available across all on-demand and digital platforms Tuesday, April 28