That said: Geoghegan and Hendrix do deliberately strip away their baddies' ranks so that their most sympathetic antagonists disappear first, leaving behind only the most unlikable antagonists to fend for themselves. In this context, Huber's character, an overwhelmed grunt, looks better than some, but worse than others simply because he failed to take steps to help Oak and/or stop Holt. Even the villains are sympathetic enough to be compelling, despite some sketchy details.
Still, the fact that these characters can essentially be boiled down to first impressions says a lot about this film's point-of-view. Holt's desperation eventually becomes more sensible: he thinks he's the victim. But "Mohawk" is really Oak's story, so it's fitting that Holt's gang has the kind of paradoxical flat-ness and immediacy that monsters often do in our nightmares.
You can see Geoghegan and Hendrix's flinty, dream logic most clearly during their film's big action/chase set pieces, like Oak and Holt's climactic final showdown. You can also also see their attention to detail in the way that they studiously avoid cliches, like their refusal to give us a full, psychologically comprehensible breakdown of Oak's character. She's a little mysterious throughout, even though her actions, and concerns, are always fairly well-grounded.
Geoghegan and Hendrix have all the right ideas, and usually in the right proportions. "Mohawk" consequently has the same political urgency as Wes Craven's now-classic, but rough-around-the-edges early films, like "Last House on the Left" and "The Hills Have Eyes." I have no idea if this film will enjoy the same status as Craven's masterful provocations, nor do I expect it to. But I'm so grateful that "Mohawk," a movie that I wanted to love, is as small and energizing as it is.
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