Showing posts with label Jamestown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jamestown. Show all posts

Sunday, August 12, 2012

The New World - Extended Cut













THE NEW WORLD – Extended Cut         B+                   
USA  (172 mi)  2005  ‘Scope  d:  Terrence Malick                              

There was no sea beyond the mountains, only a land stretching away forever in great meadows, a land which had no end.    —Captain John Smith (Colin Farrell) 

A portrait of Pocahontas, born a Powhatan Indian but eventually converted to Christianity with a proper baptism, her short life imagined and memorialized by Malick, where the opening 45 minutes or so are the same as the original, but an extra half hour of extended sequences begin to occur placing more focus on the personal relationship between Pocahontas and Captain John Smith, whose life she spared.  When Smith is returned to his settlement fort by the “Naturals,” he is greeted by desperate children living in squalor and starving for food, an odd sight since there are no women present, where men lay dying from disease, mostly malaria from mosquitoes in the swampy marsh where they landed, a contrast from the peace, beauty, and harmony of the Indian village.  Immediately, in the chaos of strife, there’s a struggle for power, accusations made, where the leader is shot and killed on the spot, leaving Smith in charge of a destitute lot of rag tag settlers.  In his internal reflections, he thinks not of his men, but of Pocahontas.  As Smith lived and observed the ways of the Naturals, one supposedly mentally challenged Indian is allowed inside the fort to explore the men and their weapons, all shown with a strange curiosity, a meeting with something mysteriously new.  Of course, the settlers look upon him with suspicion and contempt, already calling him a savage.  Rather than survival and self preservation, the settlers are more interested in digging for gold, showing a misplaced priority of their mission, which was to establish a colony.  The few crops they planted all die, offering little hope for a future settlement.  When the winter comes, the group is ill-prepared, freezing, and purposeless, filled with endless complaints, where without food, every hardship is exaggerated, creating a prevailing sense of hopelessness.  When Pocahontas arrives with an entourage bringing large quantities of food, the act itself appears like a mirage, like an utter miracle.  Malick makes it clear that the survival of the original mission would have failed were it not for the sympathetic actions of a so-called *savage* who exhibits qualities of foresight and empathy, exactly what the settlers lacked among themselves.  While the settlers bow down in thanks and appreciation, their memories are short and their expressed gratitude dies by the coming spring, becoming themselves the savages they believe to exist in others. 

If the winter visit proved anything, it was that both cultures mistrusted a developing closeness between Smith and Pocahontas, thinking this was *unnatural* and possibly even traitorous, as this newly developed loyalty to the “other” could turn against them.  As a result, what was a developing love and attraction turns as barren as the desolation of the winter.  Fear of the unknown other is paramount, and it drives the actions and behavior of both cultures.  In a kind of fantasy sequence, where Malick unifies the natural with the cinematic, creating a picture of unrealized perfection, something the world was not ready for then or now, they meet once again and perhaps even consummate their love in the openness of nature, where she gives herself to him, but in her mind he appears like a ghost that continually appears and disappears.  When the settlers plant corn, the Indians are furious, believing they have no intentions of leaving, accusing Pocahontas of betraying them by extending her help. In this abyss, there is no place for human understanding, only deep seeded fears about what could happen in the future.  When the confrontation finally comes, here it feels inevitable, as both sides feel betrayed by the other, though through the eyes of the cultural ambassadors Smith and Pocahontas, it feels like madness, like a world coming apart, where each are banished into eternal damnation, both prisoners for believing in something that doesn’t yet exist, Smith stripped of his powers and imprisoned, and Pocahontas purchased for a copper kettle as a kidnapped captive by the settlers, who call her the Princess, believing this will bring them protection.  But as one fort is burned to the ground in an attempt to drive them out, another has taken root down river before more boats arrive from across the sea, bringing women and reinforcements.

As a captive, Pocahontas is scrubbed clean and placed in a settler’s dress and heels, her old clothes burned, where she walks around in a daze, where she and Smith still have moments together, but rather than tell her the truth, that he’s been offered a commission from the King to search for the inland passage to the sea, he sneaks away under cover of night, inventing a lie about his supposed death, leaving her completely perplexed and alone.  While the Extended Cut centers upon the idealization of their relationship, where she believes all along that she belongs to him, it’s over, and both have separate paths and new destinies. When this new group of settlers burns down the Indian village, causing them to scatter into the woods, Pocahontas feels utterly lost and all but abandonded, and even contemplates suicide, forever speechless, filled with remorse and sorrow, wishing to return to her old ways—until out of the fog, she’s rescued by another Captain, tobacco farmer John Rolfe (Christian Bale) who takes an interest in her, taking quiet walks or sitting in the grass together saying nothing, filled with their inner thoughts.  Having gone through what she’s experienced, exiled from her way of life, her family, her love, and most of all her dreams, it’s the tenderness expressed here that truly exemplifies the spirit of Malick, who literally transforms her into the Resurrection.  Bale offers marriage as a means of forgetting all that she’s left behind, yet he as well is required to write a petition to the Governor stating his reasons for why he considers such an un-Christian marriage with a “savage” for the good of the Colonies, where sadly, even after marriage, she continues to lead a separate life disconnected from all others.

She overhears town gossip that Captain Smith is alive and returned to London just as she’s been invited to an audience before the King and Queen, creating a personal conflict, as she still believes in a spiritual connection with him.  The return to England are among the most dramatically powerful images in Malick’s career, unlike anything else he’s ever done, especially since they’re such a powerful contrast from the natural world shown earlier, a dizzyingly striking set of images, where the rich detail and color of the royal court could just as easily have been filmed by Kubrick.  Called Her Ladyship, they have her all but wrapped in a Union Jack.  The grounds of the castle are perfectly manicured, balanced by an interior of luxurious ornate décor, exquisitely visualized, another idealized picture of perfection that may also only be a dream, an example of something that humans aspire to be, but rarely if ever reach.  Love, the balance and equalizer of all variant and discordant things, is meant to be difficult and nearly unattainable, perhaps a transcendent state of grace, which is how the finale plays out, where all that was thought to be a dream turns out to be “the only truth.”  Life can be messy and filled with turmoil and blood, but reaching out for the unattainable is what defines humans above all other living creatures, a will to aspire to be more, where sometimes, strange as it seems, we actually find and achieve a place of immortality in this brave new world.  Pocahontas, as it turns out, was only 22 when she died, the victim of European infections that would kill untold numbers of Indians.  However, were it not for her and her remarkable ability to adapt between two entirely different cultural perspectives, most of us Americans would not exist and the shape of the world would be vastly different.       

Saturday, August 11, 2012

The New World
















THE NEW WORLD                A-                   
USA  (135 mi)  2005  ‘Scope  d:  Terrence Malick      

Why does the earth have colors?

The film is extraordinary as simply a montage of images, but falls a little flat in the endless stream of voiceovers spoken so softly that much of it is unintelligible, always sounding like drab poetry where words over-inflate the significance of the moment, which is clearly captured in the images.  The details are completely missing in this film, so as a historical record of Jamestown in the 1600’s, it’s hard to follow just what’s going on, as this is a glimpse before history was written, which calmly observes, but does not judge.  But as an expression of discovery, of man’s quest to the new world, where the discovery was as big a surprise to the natives as for the English settlers, where these dreamy images exquisitely reveal the mixture of delight and rapture, but also the pure horror and fear at being at the mercy of an unknown species of human beings.  Also, the film does reveal the combination of human reactions to the unknown, the hatred and derision, the holier than thou, we are civilized and they are savages, where we’re better off killing them all, but also the over idealization, turning natives into something like pure innocence, always childlike in their curiosity, where Malick seems to overindulge his creation of an oversensitized Pocahontas (Q’orianka Kilcher) who remains nameless, yet completely in harmony with nature, who later becomes the pet of the white people, renamed Rebecca, something people can rave about and adore and talk about as if she can’t even hear what they’re saying, in their eyes always a savage, forever seen as not being white, yet she’s somehow capable of transcending that label, seen here as almost Christ-like in her sacrifice, her sorrow, and her sensitivity and empathy for others. 

Shot by Emmanuel Lubezki, some on 65mm, using no artificial lighting, using hand-stitched costumes for the Indians with materials available at the time, constructing a fort with wood available only in the forests of the Chickihominy River in Virginia just a few miles from the actual settlement.  As the ships arrive on the shore to the floating, swirling strings of Wagner’s “Vorspiel” from Das Rheingold The New World - Vorspiel - YouTube (3:59), where the natives stare at them from behind the trees, in awe, as if in a state of wonder, the film is magnificent spectacle.  As a document of the horrendous underplanning of the settlers, who are never seen even attempting to hunt or fish, this is poetic license.  Instead, they argue and haggle over power, even flat out murder one another after they begin falling victim to pestilence and disease.  The picture of the first settlers, whose ugliness is beyond description, is something out of the Middle Ages, perhaps inspired by Chaucer, horrid creatures riddled with disease, with sickly marks on their faces and bad teeth, where everyone’s out for themselves without a plan in the world.  Colin Farrell, as Captain John Smith, always looking in perfect health despite the straggling conditions of the others, is seen here as something of a troublemaker.  Whoever’s in command is seen as a tyrant, an overbearing, power mad military boss who is quick to claim mutiny whenever anyone disagrees, which only spreads the thought amongst the stragglers.  There was never any moment when they sat down and talked about their plight, or attempted to decide together what to do.  Instead, it was a dictatorial rule by intimidation and force, which led to disastrous results, living in a cesspool of mud and defecation, as there was no common goal.  Compare this to the first journey to the village of the natives, where Smith nearly gets his head taken off as an outsider, who strikes fear into the hearts of the natives who think these settlers will attempt to drive them off their land.  But the well organized, cooperative and peaceful native village is a spawning ground for hope, both for the young Pocahontas, the Chief’s favorite daughter, as she was so much more inquisitive than the rest, and for Smith himself, whose life was spared, so he was brimming with a feeling of gratitude.  Their near wordless first meeting is dreamy and overly sensual without ever drifting into sexuality or poor taste, the camera gazing at their every move as we hear the slowly developing Adagio movement of Mozart’s 23rd Piano Concerto a New World - YouTube (4:27), which we hear again several times later in the film, but to less effect.  Of interest, Pocahontas is learning words of English, seen gently rhapsodizing upon discovering the expression for wind, but Smith has no such interest in learning her language. 

Malick has an interesting sequence of betrayals, one right after another, which one might conclude was the basis for cultural change and evolution, as one would have to rise to replace the void and overcome what was lost in their lives.  The natives agree to spare Smith’s life in return for the settlers agreeing to leave in the spring and return to England across the seas.  Meanwhile, Pocahontas makes her legendary journey bringing food and clothing for the settler’s first harsh winter, where they would likely have otherwise starved, where she is called a Princess, like a spirit of goodness and salvation, but afterwards, the settlers continue to turn on one another.  For the natives as well, when they see the settlers renege on their agreement, there is a sense of betrayal and hostility breaks out.  The film turns into absolute chaos, a prolonged scene of distrust, war and death, which makes little sense, as the film never provides compelling grounds for such a reaction, it springs out of nowhere.  Only when Smith is stripped of his power, and Pocahontas is seen as a traitor herself, betraying her own people in favor of helping Smith survive the winter, ultimately banished by her own father, does Pocahontas wander into the hands of the settlers, captured in an attempt to avoid Indian attack, and Europeanized, becoming something of a household pet, looked upon with amusement and a healthy dose of civilized superiority, then all but ignored.  She remains near wordless and quiet, but horribly confused when the natives are indeed driven from their land, their village burned, then Smith disappears, leaving instructions to tell her he’s dead.  Her reactions are always noble and dignified, always portrayed in the highest spirit, while those around her seem driven by their own self-interests.  At this point, the film leaves one with a wearying sense of low-mindedness, futility and dread. 

Eventually, Christian Bale arrives as a new commander, {AMERICAN PSYCHO (2000)!!!}, a man who is attracted to the sorrow and loss of Pocahontas, seen now by the settlers as "someone finished, broken, lost," but as he’s also lost his wife and daughter, together they quietly make a new pair, eventually leading them both to England where she is showed off to the court as an example of a “civilized” savage, perhaps justification for their mission to the new world.  Meanwhile, Smith is seen philandering with Inuits off the coast of Newfoundland, where raging waves represent his staggeringly lost state of mind, because if he was searching for the Indian passage, he wasn’t remotely close.  Somehow, the story of the natives all but disappears, and is merged into only one image, a bathed and clothed Pocahontas who walks in leather shoes with heels, who curtsies to the King of England, and is showed off like a prized specimen, almost like King Kong without a cage, enveloped in scenes from England that are near wordless, but vivid and powerful.  Pocahontas, despite her poor language skills to help her find her way through another culture, where again the swirling music of Wagner returns, it’s clear she has sacrificed her innate self, undergone huge upheavals, only then can she find herself in a new world.  The moving images capture her innate grace while continuing to dwell upon her as a marvel, as a rare thing of beauty, a stranger in a strange land who can somehow fathom her higher calling, a spiritual bridge, a first witness to the land of both Whitman and Shakespeare:  “Come, spirit, help us sing the story of our land...”