Pictured Q'Orianka Kilcher and Colin Farrell in The New World
Enigmatic, elusive screenwriter and director Terrence Malick has released his first film in seven years. That alone makes The New World worth at least a cursory look. We are lucky it's come this quickly—he took a 20-year break from filmmaking between his 1978 masterwork Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line, his 'war' picture. Whatever the reason for the lag time between pictures, Malick, the 'J.D. Salinger' of directors, has rightfully been hailed for his unique vision. But he's also been vilified—for Malick makes slow, quiet epics that are so intensely focused they sometimes seem to be happening in real time. The pacing of his movies can seem static, the performances of his actors leaden as they speak his few lines of dialogue ( there are never many in his movies—he is the pithiest of screenwriters ) . Yet, every time I watch one of his pictures I enter a strange, seemingly alternate universe that allows me to see with new eyes and hear with new ears.
With The New World, Malick delivers another breathtaking, contemplative film that's going to thrill some and bore the pants off a lot of others. I think it's a masterpiece and it cast a spell over me, but I'm aware that I'm surrounded by moviegoers who will find it closer to paint drying. It's the story of explorer Captain John Smith ( Colin Farrell ) and his British brethren colonizing America in 1607 and their interaction with the Native Americans they encounter, including Farrell's romance with Pocahontas ( Q'Orianka Kilcher ) . Underneath this is the gradual loss of innocence, the disregard for Native American culture and spirituality ( not to mention property rights ) and the absolute assurance that these 'visitors' bring to their silent takeover of this new land.
The visual metaphor of Pocahontas running barefoot through the fields one moment and much later, nearly hobbled when she puts on a pair of shoes and the constricting clothes of her 'conquerors' ( done in the name of love ) almost says it all. What other filmmaker can express so much with a single close up of a shoe? Elicit such strong emotions by the sound of wind coursing through a field of tall grass? Malick is a filmmaker that literally stops to smell the roses.
The movie is broken into two sections ( like The Thin Red Line ) . The first half tracks the course of the romance between Smith and Pocahontas and the concurrent truce that descends into war between the British and Native Americans, while the second half follows the disruption of the romance. Smith goes away to settle new territory while, against her better judgment, Pocahontas marries John Rolfe ( Christian Bale ) , who eventually takes her to England for a visit. By that point, the mostly silent Pocahontas seems to finally have an awareness of all that she has given up and all that she has lost. Not surprisingly, the film ends awash in a melancholy of regret. But then, what Malick film hasn't?
The actors do a fine job. But with the exception of Kilcher ( in her debut ) , with her arresting features and physical grace, they leave little impression—good or bad. There is nothing here that resonates like Sissy Spacek's monotone in Badlands, Linda Manz's Brooklyn tough girl terseness or Brooke Adams wracking sobs in Days of Heaven. Typical Malick hallmarks are in place, including his use of quiet interior monologues to tell parts of the story that can't be explained visually. The stunning cinematography this time comes courtesy of Emmanuel Lubezki ( not surprising—he also shot Lemony Snickett's and Sleepy Hollow, among others ) . Finally, there is Malick's repeated classical music motif. This time out he favors Richard Wagner's 'Das Rheingold' and uses it at several key points throughout the film. It blends beautifully with James Horner's majestic score.
The version of The New World that I saw was approximately 20 minutes longer than what is now being released. I don't know that that's going to make much of a difference with audiences. No matter the length, Malick's world is not a place that everyone is going to want to spend time in. But like certain films—Bergman's Fanny & Alexander, Fellini's La Dolce Vita, Gance's Napoleon, for example—I'm ready to be transported for as long as Malick wants to take me away. I eagerly await the five-hour cut.
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End of the Spear is the true story of a group of Christian missionaries who were murdered in 1956 in Ecuador. As the film tells us, this group, led by airplane pilot and natural leader Nate Saint ( Chad Allen ) are determined to reach out to the violent Waodani tribe. Through a tragic misunderstanding, Micanyani ( Louie Leonardo ) , the leader of the tribe and his followers, spear to death Saint and four of his fellow missionaries. But incredibly, Saint's widow, children, sister and other missionaries turn the other cheek and eventually help the Waodani dispel their distrust of outsiders ( and accept Christianity in the process ) and realize that they must give up their history of violence and put down their spears once and for all.
The film, which seems to begin in the middle of the story, is extremely confusing at first, making it hard to understand the circumstances that lead to the death of Saint and his colleagues. Saint's sister fluently speaks the language that will break down the barriers between the missionaries and the Waodani and barely a reason is given why she's not informed of the missionaries contact with the tribe. Also, it's never really clear why these folks are so intent on making contact with the Waodani to begin with. Especially when we learn that these are missionaries and not anthropologists ( that at least would have made their elusive search for the tribe make sense ) .
More interesting than the workmanlike film, which is highlighted by the energetic performance of Allen ( as both father and son ) and Leonardo as the hothead Micanyani, however, is that openly gay actor Allen ( and staunch supporter of gay marriage ) is starring in a movie financed and pitched to a Christian audience. This irony has been causing a bit of internet buzz. But there's a much more interesting fact that hasn't seemed to cause a peep as of yet. That is the fact of a gay actor portraying a straight character—and a married one with kids to boot—in a feature film ( albeit, an independent one ) . That the charismatic Allen pulls this off without a hint of his 'shocking' natural proclivities in evidence is the real news here. I hope it catapults him all the way up the box office leading man ladder. Wouldn't it be great to see Allen tackle an action picture, romance a honeyed blonde onscreen like Charlize or Tara, and read in Vanity Fair about his life at home with his … husband?
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