The genesis of a remarkable cinematic rediscovery began, fittingly, within the hushed halls of a library. In 2023, Colin Mannex, executive director of the Kenworthy Performing Arts Center (KPAC) in Moscow, Idaho, encountered a revelation during a humanities panel at Washington State University: the existence of a largely forgotten 1919 silent film, "Told in the Hills," which held the distinction of being the very first feature film shot in Idaho. This cinematic gem, based on Marah Ellis Ryan’s 1891 novel, is a Western romance that chronicles the journey of Genesee Jack, an Idaho settler seeking a new beginning, and his estranged brother who travels west in search of him. The film was meticulously shot on location in Lawyer’s Canyon, south of Lewiston, and remarkably featured over 100 Nimiipuu (Nez Perce) actors, offering a unique glimpse into the region’s early 20th-century life and its Indigenous inhabitants.

Mannex, already a passionate admirer of the silent film era and the curator of KPAC’s annual Silent Film Festival, was captivated by the prospect of viewing this lost piece of cinematic history. His enthusiasm grew when he learned that two fragile reels of the film, along with the original shooting script and hundreds of still photographs from the production, were carefully preserved within the Idaho Film Collection housed in the archives of Boise State University. It was within these archives that Mannex encountered another devoted guardian of this cinematic past: Tom Trusky, an eccentric poet and English professor. Trusky had previously dedicated his efforts to rescuing and preserving "Told in the Hills," documenting his journey in a short 1989 documentary titled "Retold in the Hills." His film chronicled his expedition to the Gosfilmofond State Film Archive in the Soviet Union to retrieve the original nitrate spools of "Told in the Hills" and his subsequent painstaking efforts to conserve them.

Mannex was immediately struck by Trusky’s "electric energy and excitement," recognizing a shared passion for this forgotten film. He resolved to pick up where Trusky had left off, embarking on a mission to restore and reintroduce "Told in the Hills" to the public. Through KPAC, Mannex secured a $7,500 grant from the Idaho Humanities Council (IHC) in January 2024, a crucial step that funded the initial restoration efforts. He then commissioned a new musical score from the acclaimed Diné composer Connor Chee, a significant undertaking to provide a contemporary sonic landscape for the silent film. A specialized company was engaged to perform a 4K restoration of the delicate film stock, and an editor was hired to help reconstruct the narrative. Crucially, Mannex initiated contact with the Nez Perce Tribe to understand their historical knowledge of the film’s creation and to consult with them throughout the restoration process. Further fundraising efforts were undertaken, and a premiere was tentatively scheduled for September 2025.

However, the ambitious project faced an unexpected and significant setback in April, when an email from the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) delivered devastating news. Camille Daw, a program officer at the IHC, revealed to High Country News that the grant had been terminated. The decision was attributed to DOGE, a newly established "Department of Government Efficiency" reportedly founded by billionaire Elon Musk and empowered by the Trump administration to implement broad budget cuts across federal agencies. This abrupt decision meant that 70% of the IHC’s funding, which it typically disburses annually across Idaho, was immediately lost. The cuts rippled through the state, forcing the council to scale back or postpone grants it had already committed, including the vital funding for KPAC’s restoration project. With the film’s premiere only months away, the abrupt loss of funding threatened to derail the entire endeavor. "It just totally derailed everything," Mannex lamented.

This modern-day governmental upheaval stands in stark contrast to the historical context in which "Told in the Hills" was produced. In 1919, the Nimiipuu people were grappling with their own existential threats. Federal boarding schools were actively removing Indigenous children from their families, government policies were systematically dispossessing tribes of their ancestral lands, and their traditional ways of life were under siege. An entire generation of Nimiipuu had grown up under federal bans that suppressed their cultural practices and traditions. Nakia Williamson-Cloud, director of the Nez Perce Cultural Resource Program and a key consulting partner on the film restoration, highlighted the profound historical weight of the film’s cast. "Many of those individuals (in the film) were in armed conflict with the U.S. federal government in the 1877 (Nez Perce) War," he stated. "When you look into the faces of those individuals on film and in the photographs, you know that they faced challenges to their very existence." In this light, "Told in the Hills" transcends its narrative as a mere Western romance; it serves as a powerful artifact, vividly preserving the resilience and resistance of the Nez Perce people against a deliberate campaign of cultural erasure.

Williamson-Cloud offered a broader historical perspective on the recent funding crisis. "Nez Perce people have been on this landscape in excess of 16,500 years," he stated, emphasizing the deep ancestral connection to the land. "We’ve seen a lot of changes. Our memory is not only ancestral over generations, our memory is on par with geological events that we observed on the landscape." He underscored the fleeting nature of the current federal government’s presence in comparison: "This federal government has only been here just a speck amount of time. Tiny amount of time. And that’s what we’re here to remind the broader society is just the resilience of our people."

Despite the significant blow from the funding cuts, the "Told in the Hills" restoration team remained resolute. Composer Connor Chee acknowledged that the budget reductions necessitated a scaling back of their original vision. The ambitious full chamber orchestra arrangement he and Mannex had envisioned was reduced to a quintet. "I didn’t get to see the finished film," Chee admitted, "and I had to get this music to the performers in time for them to rehearse it and learn it." Consequently, the conductor and musicians were left with a mere two weeks for practice. The editing process was temporarily halted, awaiting the restoration of adequate funding. Chee ingeniously created flexible musical cues that could adapt to the still-evolving final cut of the film, acknowledging that "This kind of music can stay alive, it can change. It’s like a living thing."

As the restoration team meticulously worked on the film, they conducted detailed comparisons between the new 4K scan and the 1980s tape produced by Trusky. In one particular scene, the older footage showed two actors with their faces obscured by deep shadows. The newly restored 4K version, however, revealed their faces in sharp, clear relief. This enhanced clarity, combined with an exhaustive examination of the extensive collection of still photographs, enabled Williamson-Cloud and his team at the Cultural Resources Office to finally identify and credit dozens of previously unrecognized Indigenous actors. Mannex and editor Tom Frank faced the significant challenge of reconstructing the narrative, given that only approximately one-third of the original film footage had survived. They meticulously consulted the original shooting script and strategically incorporated the trove of still images to bridge the gaps in the visual narrative. "We have essentially 20 minutes of footage for a 60-minute film," Frank explained, "We ultimately realized that using just one or two photos to represent the scene with text from the script was the way to make it most clear."

Throughout this period of uncertainty, Mannex tirelessly pursued alternative funding avenues. Contracts for editing and musical composition, which were contingent on the initial grant, hung precariously in the balance. In the critical final months leading up to the planned premiere, the Mellon Foundation stepped in with crucial support, alongside generous contributions from local donors to KPAC. Ultimately, a court reversal of DOGE’s decision led to the restoration of the original federal funding, a welcome reprieve after a summer marked by confusion and anxiety. With less than a week to spare, the film was finally ready for its public debut.

On a crisp Friday evening in September, conductor Danh Pham and his musicians took their positions at the base of the stage in the Kenworthy Theater. As the audience began to fill the seats, the era of silent film projection, with its characteristic clicking reels, had given way to modern digital projection, yet the elegantly cursive title of "Told in the Hills" still illuminated the screen in silver. For the first time in over a century, the film had an audience. Mannex, however, felt it was important to contextualize the viewing experience for the contemporary audience. Standing near the musicians, he acknowledged, "You’ll see some old tropes and casting decisions that are uncomfortable for contemporary audiences." He emphasized, "Despite its flaws, ‘Told in the Hills’ remains an important cultural resource."

Indeed, the film’s portrayal of and language used to refer to Native characters, as well as the minstrel-like presentation of its Black characters, elicited audible reactions of discomfort from the audience. Williamson-Cloud addressed these historical sensitivities, stating, "Context is everything. It’s an important discussion for the time we live in now. We have to take these things head-on and shed light on the ignorance that drives this sort of language." The film is an undeniable product of its era, featuring white actors in dark makeup alongside Cherokee actor Monte Blue, who would later achieve stardom, in the role of Kalitan, and Joe Kentuck, a Nez Perce performer who portrayed Kalitan’s father. Yet, the film also subtly challenges the prevailing cultural stereotypes of the time by depicting peaceful coexistence between Native Americans and early settlers. The film’s battle scene, a segment that had been lost to time, is depicted as arising from a misunderstanding, with blame placed squarely on an American cavalry unit.

While the hundreds of Nimiipuu extras were cast to represent a different tribe (the narrative centers on the Kootenai people), they seized the rare opportunity to authentically present their own traditions to a wider audience. The Native actors were neither costumed nor directed, appearing in their own traditional attire and performing their own dances and ceremonies, offering an unadulterated glimpse into their rich cultural heritage.

Over a century later, "Told in the Hills" is not merely being screened; it is being reimagined, a testament to its enduring significance. Mannex expressed a wish that the film’s original ending, which prominently featured Nimiipuu actors and is now presumed lost, had survived. "It would be really cool to see that," he remarked. He believes that there is considerable artistic license to be exercised in future interpretations of the film. He hopes to build upon the collaborative relationship established with the Nez Perce Tribe, aiming to create a future iteration that integrates the culturally significant production images with audio commentary. The film is slated for release on DVD and will likely be screened again, but its potential extends beyond a simple re-release; it may be reinterpreted and presented in new forms, such as a museum exhibit.

Williamson-Cloud echoed the sentiment that "Told in the Hills" can serve as "a living document for us to add to." He articulated the hope that the restored film’s ultimate takeaway will be the enduring resilience of the Nimiipuu people against attempts at erasure. "Our existence today is sometimes seen as an inconvenient fact," he observed. "But this (version of the film) is a starting point to revisit this time and place while looking to the future."