Some thoughts on Malick's "Indian Princess"

Rating: 9/10 (25 March 2006)

Some may find irony in Terrence Malick's films, but never cynicism. In the New World he hasn't fashioned his version of the events in Virginia 1607 to comply with any prescriptions derived from our zeitgeist for how such historically and ethnically sensitive material should be treated by a non-"Indian" (the term of self-reference by tribal people, according to Scott Momaday). And, is that even possible? In practice history can never be recovered, "correctly" or otherwise, only remade afresh each time for present intent, in which every genuine artist indeed answers a different muse, outside consensus.
The New World's storyline is so well-covered by others, that I ask the kind indulgence of readers to allow me a few points of discussion, and mostly notes at that. (Also, there may be SPOILERS.)
[ Innocence ] The Indian maiden (her name unspoken) pleads for Captain Smith's life after he's captured and presented by her tribe to her father. He is freed, and despite her father's warning counsel, she is drawn into an arising bond of deep love with Smith through some causal transformation, which has occurred in him as well. They become as two children: there is smiling delight, innocent oblivion, courtesy and respect, silence. There is physical touch, yet no sexual overtones, just tenderness and a becoming shyness, as in a true(r) courtship. She is very young after all. Of this propriety Malick leaves no room for doubt.
[ The Other: Singular ] Also evident and striking about their encounter is that its inherent purity is quite something which one would expect to find in such a meeting with the "Other" (with what is usually perceived to be completely unlike, foreign, often unwelcome or threatening); that is, when the transforming ability of that encounter is indeed enabled by openness, willingness to accept, and by inborn natural curiosity (when not typically repressed), allowing one to move forward towards that Other. In our world, "Other" represents difficult challenges psychologically and emotionally for many people, in coming to terms with accepting much which is foreign, culturally or otherwise. The radical liberation of this central meeting in the film might well shift perspectives for many, at the very least subconsciously.
[ The Other: Plural ] Much has been made of the "betrayal" by Pocahontas of her people (historically), and being cast out by her father. While that occurs here, Malick's insistence on honoring the importance of individual over collective experience allows him to provide insight: not only are the Indian "princess" and Captain Smith able to effect their love for the Other in the singular; it will allow them to further embrace the Other in the plural, as when he intimately bonds with her kin, and when she later enlists those very kinsfolk to bring food and provisions to the English settlers, starving in midwinter. If the underlying dynamic of embracing the Other is clear, it becomes difficult to establish a convincing claim for a pure betrayal on her part. Indeed, she is shown in her continual loyalty as she returns to her father every time she has stepped out of favor while following the inner urgings of her heart, until he sends her away. Could she really choose between her community and Smith? His judgment reestablishes her humility, but it's also importantly on view when she supplicates the spirit of her dead mother who, as becomes apparent, is her true life guide, the only one we see her turning to, before and after this abandonment.
[ The Individual ] For Malick there is again an opportunity to show clearly, within the individual/collective context, what is important about the maiden's position. The love for one's parents and community must be deep, yet it comes naturally, without question. However, when love for the Other arises, who can say it may not prove to be the greater, more powerful one? The one that opens, transforms, removes limitations, and matures someone ineffably, and is greater than those involved. Tragically, an opportunity for even a minimal encounter with the Other, between natives and settlers, would be impossible for a long time. However, Malick preempts any manipulation to make us register either "poor unfortunate naturals" or "disgusting new colonials." Instead he encourages empathy: to see both sides with compassion, to honor every person's suffering. The film appears primarily the story of one individual, the Indian maiden, yet while upholding the singular importance of her experience, Malick enables a deeper insight: that nations, tribes, races, people do not suffer. Only individuals suffer. "The People," (that blind ideological version) never existed, only individuals exist -- sometimes unbearable to see because it is precisely at the level of the individual that one most uncompromisingly confronts the Other.
[ Transcendence ] The New World is a transcendent experience, not because of its soul- glimpses (in voice-overs) or nature's endless majesty on view (although its scope, colors and sounds do manifest a different overwhelming sense of Otherness). The movement forward of Rebecca (newly named) through further abandonment by Smith, further surrender as captive Other, further encounter, courtship and marriage to Rolfe, into the blossoming of motherhood: all allow her to know new life at every stage, including her own suffering, from innocent purity and deepening spiritual reliance to the maturity of clear discernment. A last meeting with Smith, a farewell, her final certain embrace of Rolfe... what more is there to know -- for her, or for us?
The new world for Smith was not Virginia, nor England for her. It is never the outer, external one. Malick offers this knowledge most intimately, his very invitation to transcendence. His art is genuine in this knowing.