The rediscovery and restoration of Told in the Hills, the first feature film shot in Idaho in 1919, has been a remarkable odyssey, weaving together historical preservation, cultural collaboration, and a fight against unexpected bureaucratic hurdles. The project, spearheaded by Colin Mannex, executive director of the Kenworthy Performing Arts Center (KPAC) in Moscow, Idaho, began with a chance encounter at a humanities panel at Washington State University. Mannex learned of the silent film, an adaptation of Marah Ellis Ryan’s 1891 Western romance novel, which chronicles the westward journey of an Idaho settler named Genesee Jack and his estranged brother. Filmed on location in Lawyer’s Canyon, south of Lewiston, the production notably featured over 100 Nimiipuu (Nez Perce) actors, a detail that would become central to the film’s enduring significance.

Mannex’s existing passion for the silent film era, which fueled KPAC’s annual Silent Film Festival, ignited a desire to see Told in the Hills brought back to life. His search led him to the Idaho Film Collection housed in the Boise State University archives, where he discovered two fragile reels of the film, the original shooting script, and hundreds of production stills. It was within these archives that Mannex encountered Tom Trusky, an English professor and poet whose own 1989 documentary, Retold in the Hills, documented his efforts to retrieve and preserve original nitrate spools of the film from the Gosfilmofond State Film Archive in the Soviet Union. Captivated by Trusky’s dedication, Mannex took up the mantle, determined to complete the restoration.

In January 2024, Mannex secured a $7,500 grant from the Idaho Humanities Council (IHC) to fund the restoration. The project enlisted the talents of award-winning Diné composer Connor Chee to create a new musical score and a specialized company for a 4K restoration of the delicate film. An editor was hired to help reconstruct the narrative from the surviving footage. Crucially, Mannex initiated contact with the Nez Perce Tribe to gather tribal knowledge about the film’s production and to ensure their consultation throughout the restoration process. As additional funds were raised, a premiere was scheduled for September 2025, marking a significant cultural event for Idaho.

However, the project faced an unprecedented setback in April when an email from the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) arrived in the middle of the night, announcing the termination of the grant. Camille Daw, a program officer at the IHC, explained to High Country News that the decision stemmed from the actions of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), an entity reportedly founded by billionaire Elon Musk and empowered by the Trump administration to implement broad budget cuts across federal agencies. The IHC, which disburses NEH funds throughout Idaho, saw 70% of its funding vanish overnight. This drastic reduction forced the council to scale back or postpone grants it had already committed, including the one to KPAC, jeopardizing the film’s imminent premiere. "It just totally derailed everything," Mannex stated, underscoring the profound disruption to the project’s timeline.

The impact of the funding cuts resonated deeply within the context of Idaho’s history and the Nimiipuu people. By 1919, the era in which Told in the Hills was filmed, the Nimiipuu faced their own existential threats from federal policies. The pervasive practice of removing Indigenous children from their families for boarding schools, coupled with land dispossession and the suppression of cultural practices, created immense hardship. Nakia Williamson-Cloud, Nez Perce Cultural Resource Program director and a consulting partner on the restoration, highlighted the profound historical weight carried by the film’s actors. "Many of those individuals (in the film) were in armed conflict with the U.S. federal government in the 1877 (Nez Perce) War," he noted. "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 emerged not just as a piece of cinema, but as a powerful testament to the Nimiipuu people’s resistance against attempted cultural erasure.

Williamson-Cloud offered a poignant perspective on the DOGE situation by framing it against the deep history of his people. "Nez Perce people have been on this landscape in excess of 16,500 years," he shared. "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 emphasized the fleeting presence of the federal government in comparison to this ancient heritage, asserting, "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."

Undeterred by the funding crisis, the restoration team pressed forward. Composer Connor Chee explained that the initial vision for a full chamber orchestra had to be scaled back 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." The conductor and musicians were left with a mere two weeks for practice, and editing work was paused until funding could be re-established. Chee ingeniously composed flexible musical cues that could adapt to the yet-to-be-completed final cut, allowing for a performance that could evolve. "I don’t know how it’s going to sound," Chee mused. "It could be different every time it’s performed. This kind of music can stay alive, it can change. It’s like a living thing."

During the restoration process, comparisons between the new 4K scan and Trusky’s 1980s tape revealed significant improvements. In one scene where actors’ faces were obscured by deep shadows in the older footage, the restored version brought them into sharp relief. This enhanced clarity, combined with the examination of production stills, enabled Williamson-Cloud and his team to identify and credit dozens of previously unrecognized Indigenous actors. Mannex and editor Tom Frank faced the challenge of reconstructing the narrative, as only about a third of the film’s original runtime had survived. Consulting the shooting script and integrating the extensive collection of still photographs became crucial. "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 actively sought alternative funding. Contracts for editing and score composition hung in the balance. In the critical final months, the Mellon Foundation provided essential support, and local donors contributed to KPAC. Ultimately, a court reversal of DOGE’s decision led to the restoration of the original funding, allowing the project to proceed. After a summer marked by confusion and doubt, the film was finalized with less than a week to spare before its premiere.

On a cool Friday evening in September, conductor Danh Pham and the musicians took their places on stage at the Kenworthy theater as the house began to fill. The silken cursive title of Told in the Hills illuminated the screen, replacing the mechanical sounds of early cinema with a digital projection. For the first time in over a century, the film was presented to an audience. Mannex addressed viewers beforehand, acknowledging the film’s historical context and potential for discomfort. "You’ll see some old tropes and casting decisions that are uncomfortable for contemporary audiences," he stated. "Despite its flaws, Told in the Hills remains an important cultural resource."

Indeed, the film’s portrayal of Native characters and its use of language, along with the minstrel-like depiction of its Black characters, elicited audible reactions from the audience. Williamson-Cloud emphasized the importance of contextualizing these elements. "Context is everything," he said regarding the film’s racist tropes and language. "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." While the film features white actors in blackface and stereotypes of the era, it also challenges convention by depicting peaceful relations between Native Americans and settlers. Notably, a battle scene, which had been lost, is attributed to a misunderstanding initiated by an American cavalry unit.

The hundreds of Nimiipuu extras, though cast to represent a different tribe, were given a rare platform to showcase their authentic traditions. Uncostumed and unscripted, they appeared in their own attire, performing traditional dances and ceremonies, offering a glimpse into Nimiipuu life that transcended the film’s narrative.

Over a century after its creation, Told in the Hills is being reimagined, remaining a work in progress. Mannex expressed regret over the loss of the film’s ending, which prominently featured Nimiipuu actors. "It would be really cool to see that," he said, acknowledging that those final scenes are likely lost forever. He now envisions greater artistic license for future interpretations, building upon the collaborative relationship with the Nez Perce Tribe. Potential future endeavors include combining the culturally significant production imagery with audio commentary, releasing the film on DVD, and potentially reinterpreting it for museum exhibits or other presentations.

Williamson-Cloud shared the hope that Told in the Hills can serve as "a living document for us to add to," underscoring the Nimiipuu people’s enduring existence against attempts at erasure as the restored film’s ultimate message. "Our existence today is sometimes seen as an inconvenient fact," he stated. "But this (version of the film) is a starting point to revisit this time and place while looking to the future." The journey of Told in the Hills from forgotten reels to a revitalized cultural artifact, despite significant challenges, stands as a powerful testament to the resilience of both history and the communities it represents.