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  Actors

MORRIS BIRD YELLOWHEAD


 Mr. Morris Birdyellowhead is know as, by his people, "Yahiyagansha-Pacedinwica (Redstar Elk Man) the Redstar is the planet Venus or the Morningstar. To Many its meaning is, "new beginning", and the meaning of the Elk "the elk spirit endeavors to persevere without fear or pain of death". Mr. Birdyellowhead is from the Stoney/Cree Tribe known as Paul First Nation. Situated near the town of Duffield located in western Canada 40 miles west of the city of Edmonton, in the province of Alberta. Morris was raised by his grandmother Sarah Bird in the traditional spiritual culture of his people. Morris' mother is Louise Bird and his father is the late Peter Bird whose father was Cheif Enoch Bird whose father was Chief David Birdyellowhead of whom are descends from a lineage of Cheifs. Morris is a traditional pow-wow dancer and singer; he is an avid bare-back horse rider, tracker, trapper and hunter, an expert knife thrower, axe man, marks man and archer.

Filmography

Morris  began his acting career as an extra in September 2001 on "Dreamkeepers" directed by Steve Barron he was uncredited. Steven Speilberg's "Into The West" I & II 2004 directed by Simon Wincer and Robert Dornhelm respectively. Feature Films: "September Dawn" directed by Chirstopher Cain. "Broken Trail" 2005 directed by Walter Hill. "Apocalypto" 2006  directed by Mel Gibson. "Elijah" 2006 directed by Paul Unwin. "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" 2006 directed by Yves Simoneau.

Morris now resides at home on Paul First Nation raising his children working as an auto mechanic. Mr. Birdyellowhead is looking forward to more roles to further his career as an actor. Morris urges traditionally minded indigenous youth to complete their education, but insists they must return to their culture to rediscover their true identity. Which he believes is essential for them to succeed in today's society. Morris always says "When you are the one with your spirit and mother earth... there is no fear"

Apocalypto

 “Apocalypto” begins with a group of young men out on a hunt and lingers for a while in their happy, earthy village, a place that might double as a nostalgic vision of small-town America were it not for the loin cloths, the tattooed buttocks and the facial piercings. Blunted (Jonathan Brewer) is nagged by his mother-in-law and teased by his buddies because he hasn’t yet made his wife pregnant, but he accepts his humiliation in good humor, like the jolly fat kid on a family sitcom.

Meanwhile Jaguar Paw (Rudy Youngblood), whose father (Morris Birdyellowhead) is an admired hunter and warrior, snuggles down with his pregnant wife, Seven (Dalia Hernandez), and their young son, Turtle Run (Carlos Emilio Baez). There’s fresh tapir meat on the grill and an old-timer telling stories by the fire. Life is good.

Needless to say, this pastoral idyll cannot last. The ominous strains of James Horner’s score indicate as much. Before long the village is set upon by fearsome marauders, led by Zero Wolf (Raoul Trujillo), who rape, burn and kill with ruthless discipline and undisguised glee. The locals resist valiantly, but the survivors are led away to an uncertain fate. Seven and Turtle Run stay behind, hidden in a hole in the ground.

Jaguar Paw’s mission will be to rescue them and also to avenge his friends and kin. First, though, he will accompany us on a Cecil B. DeMille tour of the decadent imperial capital, a place of misery, luxury and corruption, where priests and nobles try to keep famine and pestilence at bay with round-the-clock human sacrifices.

Neither Mr. Gibson’s fans nor his detractors are likely to accuse him of excessive subtlety, and the effectiveness of “Apocalypto” is inseparable from its crudity. But the blunt characterizations and the emphatic emotional cues are also evidence of the director’s skill.

Perhaps because he is aiming for an audience wary of subtitles, Mr. Gibson rarely uses dialogue as a means of exposition, and he proves himself to be an able, if not always terribly original, visual storyteller. He is not afraid of clichés — the slow-motion, head-on sprint toward the camera; the leap from the waterfall into the river below — but he executes them with a showman’s maniacal relish.

And it is, all in all, a pretty good show. There is a tendency, at least among journalists, to take Mr. Gibson as either a monster or a genius, a false choice that he frequently seems intent on encouraging. Is he a madman or a visionary? Should he be shunned or embraced? Censured or forgiven?

These are the wrong questions, but their persistence reveals the truth about this shrewd and bloody-minded filmmaker. He is an entertainer. He will be publicized, and he will be paid.