When The New World finally arrived in wide release in January 2006, roughly 16 minutes shorter than when it premiered in December in New York and Los Angeles to qualify for the Oscars, it was met with a mixed response, with some critics hailing it as another masterpiece while others—myself included—saw it as an intriguing, but somewhat ponderous historical epic best appreciated for its fragments of stunning beauty and juxtaposition of tranquility and violence than for anything that might be termed “narrative” or “character development” or even a “coherent theme.” Malick’s affinity for the natural world and his disgust at humankind’s destruction of it has been one of his guiding thematic strands, and it is certainly present in The New World, although not nearly to the extent you would imagine given the fact that the film tells the story of the roots of Europe’s colonization of North America.

In essence, The New World is a retelling of the well-worn romanticized legend of the relationship between soldier-of-fortune John Smith (Colin Farrell) and the Powhatan princess Pocahontas (14-year-old newcomer Q’Orianka Kilcher), beginning with the founding of the Jamestown colony in 1607. The name “Pocahontas” is never once uttered in the film, most likely as a self-conscious indicator of Malick’s desire to separate his vision from all those that came before it, particularly Disney’s bloodless 1995 animated version. Malick deploys many of his signature devices, including a wandering camera that soaks in the lush, sun-dappled swampy wilderness of the land that would become Virginia, a minimal use of spoken dialogue, and a seemingly contradictory obsession with inner monologues, often delivered in hushed whispers.

The use of inner monologues was a problematic aspect of The Thin Red Line because they were so fundamentally disassociated from the characters who were meant to be speaking them (when that connection could be made). That is not the problem in The New World, as the inner voices of Smith, Pocahontas, and her eventual husband John Rolfe (Christian Bale) emanate clearly from their characters and their emotions. However, the monologues themselves are largely redundant, telling us in overly literate dialogue what is plainly clear in Malick’s imagery and in the actors’ performances. Looking at Pocahontas starring dreamily into Smith’s eyes, we really don’t need purplish inner prose to inform us of just how smitten she is, yet Malick pushes the point. This tendency, which has solidified into one of Malick’s key narrative and thematic devices, doesn’t undermine the film, although it often plays as unnecessary adornment.

In other respects, The New World is an impressive film, particularly in its imagery and unexpected rhythms (the cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki relies entirely on natural lighting, particularly the ethereal light of magic hour). The film’s opening scenes are among its best, as it gives us narrative information in often fragmented chunks that defy expectations, but still keeps the narrative coherent. It also establishes in strong terms Malick’s thematic preoccupation with “civilization,” and the portrait he paints of the Europeans and their desperate ways, riddled as they are with contradiction, selfishness, and betrayal, is frequently powerful. Visually, Malick adds to the film’s impact with unexpected transitions, such as violent moments like Smith angrily kicking over a chair that are suddenly devoid of sound, focusing us that much more intently on the physical action itself. In moments like this, you get an exhilarating sense of Malick’s undeniable bravura.

Unfortunately, when you try to bring everything together, it’s hard to tell what Malick is getting at. He eschews the typical conventions of the historical epic, favoring instead an elliptical, jumpy, and sometimes distanced view of the action, rather than a straight-ahead causal narrative. This is an interesting choice, but his approach doesn’t make his characters or story any more vibrant or memorable. For example, Pocahontas’ eventual travel to England to be paraded as an example of how the savage “naturals” could be anglicized has little or no thematic force beyond connecting the historical dots. While it is certainly refreshing to see a filmmaker of considerable talents approach an oft-told tale from a different perspective, Malick doesn’t manage to make the Pocahontas story any more meaningful or humane. It is just different.

Copyright ©2016 James Kendrick

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