At the risk of inflicting fatal self-harm, I’m going to make a confession.

Last week I rewatched The Last of the Mohicans for the first time in probably 30 years. Here’s what I remembered of the 1992 film:

• Daniel Day-Lewis, before we knew he was Daniel Day-Lewis.
• “I will find you.”
• Native Americans were involved. 

That was it. 

Going in, I actually thought DDL was the Mohican eluded to in the title, which is obviously stupid because he’s British. Then again, one of Hollywood’s favorite swerves is casting white men in roles that should not be white, and then trying to distract us with explosions. My belief that DDL was the final Mohican held until the very end, when the actual last Mohican said, “I am the last of the Mohicans.” I assume writer-director Michael Mann put that line in for people like me. 

This pronouncement shook me because it was so obvious in retrospect, and so incredibly tragic. DDL was only an adopted Mohican, not the actual last one in a DNA sense. The Mohicans, as an actual people, were going to pass away and not even the power of DDL’s cultural shape-shifting could stop it. 

But my confession isn’t about how dense I am. If you’ve read me any length of time, you’ve probably gotten a sense for that. I assume half of you are here to see what foolishness I cop to next. Whether you’re laughing at me or with me, you’re laughing, and in this economy that’s a win. 

Here’s the actual confession.