Terrence Malick is perhaps the most visionary American director, who with Badlands and Days of Heaven set romantic tragedies against natural landscapes with mind-blowing beauty.  It is difficult to talk about his work without describing him and his work using superlative as I already have done.  Unfortunately, The New World fell short of these expectations for me.  Perhaps I was merely too tired, and I will one day understand the rapturous cinematic experience some felt.  Maybe it is necessary to see this film at least once on the big screen to avoid restlessness.  Until then, I am not a fan.  This film tells the story of the romance between John Smith and Pocahontas, and while Malick so brilliantly succeeded using nature as an essential component of the story in his previous work, the surroundings are a distraction in this film as the camera cuts to birds in the sky and leaves in the trees. Malick is so caught up in the film’s imagery and Mozart concertos; what was once formalistic bravery becomes artistic pretension.

Then there is the ending of the film.   There was a sense of poetry to the film that I felt I had missed out on for two hours.  Was it the absence of Colin Farrell, who plays Smith, that changed my mind?  He seemed out of place in this dream-like fantasy of a movie while Christian Bale, who only comes into play as Pocahontas’ husband in the final act of the film, gives an understated performance that is perhaps his absolute best. I don’t think, however, that one misplaced performance by Farrell explains my distaste for this movie.  For David Lynch, Inland Empire overindulged his style and experimentation in form that makes his other works so great. The New World is the same for me when it comes to Malick.  All of his films require a sort of patience, and I feel his first two are among the most rewarding American film experiences, but his 2005 effort does not balance the experimentation and narrative without remembering to engage an audience.  Film critic Dave Thomson once said, “Days of Heaven remains one of the great visual experiences in American film, and a warning that film is more than visual.” I disagree with his implication that the imagery of Malick’s 1978 film is potentially empty, but I do feel that Malick is so in love with form and aesthetic with The New World that he forgot to give us more.