Even before his campaign for the removal of indigenous people from their land in the 1800s, Thomas Jefferson was pillaging burial grounds under the guise of scientific understanding. His actions predate those by countless archaeologists who followed suit: disturbing and excavating the remains of the dead and hoarding their bodies and / or the objects with which they were buried. Adam and Zack Khalil’s Aanikoobijigan [ancestor/great-grandparent/great-grandchild] uses this as a jumping-off point for exploring the myriad ways that archeologists and anthropologists have denied indigenous people the right to have human remains returned for reburial, even when prompted by the law. Rather than just present this as a timeline of crimes and legal battles for those trying to facilitate respectful returns under the federal law of NAGPRA (Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act), the Khalils focus on native culture and spiritual histories, as well as the activists (like Michigan’s own MACPRA) that continue to bring their ancestors protection and repatriation.
This feature works as something of an expansion of their short The Violence of a Civilization without Secrets, made in collaboration with artist Jackson Polys, which focused on the Kennewick Man (or the “Ancient One”) and the way anthropologists, alongside white supremacists seeking to claim this land as their own, worked to deny Native Americans their own histories and the right to rebury these bones. Aanikoobijigan swaps out the light performance art of watching masked humans wander empty museums with their ancestors’ bodies on display for even more oppressive and experimental visuals, ensuring every glimpse into an archive is one loaded with dread. These hallways full of cabinets and shelves are cold, sterile places that remove individuals from their intended cycles of life and death, with the film bluntly noting that “if an object is animate, the archive is a prison.”
Whether or not the remains of living beings have brought any worthwhile scientific discovery is not for debate here, though detractors will certainly continue using this as a defense—as they have for ages when faced with the reality that institutions and individuals felt comfortable claiming the lives of others for their own selfish gain (e.g. inviting Native Americans to the World’s Fair for the sake of killing them with diseases and keeping their bodies). What’s most fascinating about Aanikoobijigan is the way it bounces through history with ease, emphasizing all the connections that exist throughout literal centuries, and with the Khalils’ formal approach mimicking the non-linearity of time in their culture. “Aanikoobijigan” is a word that, as its extended title states, represents both ancestors and a future generation, and the film takes great pleasure in drawing lines between those who came before and the activists of today, banding together to donate their time and energy to fight oppressive laws while giving dignified burials to their ancestors.
For all its beautiful indulgence in kaleidoscopic interludes and poetic asides, the documentary occasionally returns to more conventional uses of footage––from featuring pop-culture staples like Poltergeist and Indiana Jones to the usual assemblage of talking heads––but if even the most on-the-nose shot of these activists (or FBI art crime agents looking like they’re about to solve the case of the week on a procedural) feels at home here, it’s largely because Aanikoobijigan is all about how the traditional overlaps with the contemporary. There’s also a sense of humor to be found throughout, like when the filmmakers highlight Chicago’s Field Museum hosting an exhibition titled “Bloodsuckers” while discussing all the legislation loopholes that museums use to keep indigenous bodies and artifacts in storage and on display.
Perhaps one of the documentary’s boldest choices is the blurring of any and all remains shown on screen, pixelizing and censoring them as a means of punctuating the statement that the bodies of ancestors should not be a source of gawkery and entertainment. Such a decision allows the filmmakers to offer the same abundance of historical context that a museum promises while actually being respectful of the culture of those it represents, and everything about Aanikoobijigan seems dedicated to treating its subjects with the dignity they’ve been denied for so long. It’s as much an informative piece of cinema as it is an infuriating call to action, down to a QR code link at the very end prompting one to discover just how many of their own local museums and universities are holding indigenous bodies and artifacts hostage.
Aanikoobijigan [ancestor/great-grandparent/great-grandchild] premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival.