An Old Dream Made New Again

Rating: 8/10 (21 August 2006)

John Smith is an outcast in an from his society. That much is clear. He does not fit into the confines of his culture, and for his mutinous behaviour, is physically confined. It is hardly surprising that he should be the one reaching over to the natives. The young girl, on the other hand, seems in tune with her own culture and people. So why is she the one who replies? I think it's because of her connection with Mother. Mother, of course, is Nature, both in the physical and spiritual sense, and including both the general and the human sense. It is that universal quality which connects us to the outside world, to our inner self, and to our fellow human beings. The young girl, being connected to that source, thus becomes a being fit to connect with the foreign party. She understands this, and so does Smith. She is faithful to it, Smith betrays this belief, and her with it.
I think that Mallick is trying to show, in Smith, the acknowledged allure of the 'New World', and the fact that this 'New World' was destroyed by the explorers and colonizers. It's consistently emphasized throughout the film, and forms one of the central arguments therein (the contrast between the natives and the starving Englishmen and boys is stark,disturbing, and obvious).
Much more pronounced is the young girl's transformation. It must be emphasized that she does not have a name until she is baptized. We have come to call her Pocahontas, but that is our designation, not hers. When she is named Rebecca, it forms the culminating act in the murder of the young girl that effectively began the moment that contact was established. It is almost inevitable; the moment that you come into contact with the other party, life will never be the same. What is so extraordinary is what an extreme form the young girl's transformation takes. I don't mean just in terms of clothing, language, and other external features. More important is the (apparent) death of her spirit. Did you notice how little she smiles? The most fascinating moment at the beginning of the film was was when the colonizers met with the natives in the field, both eyeing each other curiously and threateningly, until the camera fixed on this wonderful girl who was playing with her friend, and who gave us this wonderful smile! And what happened when that smiled disappeared? To me, what it signalled was that the young girl, now young woman, had lost her connection with Mother.
She finds it in the end, in a scene that is rather abrupt for a film that knows how to take its time. I think that her meaning is clear enough: her son is the manifestation of the universal link between all human beings. This is not only true on a spiritual or idealistic level, but is rooted in biological fact: what connects all human beings is that they are one species, and that is only true so long as they can copulate and produce offspring. Once that connection is confirmed, the young woman (whose 'real' self remains unnamed in the film) can return to her home. But that, alas, is not possible. The moment that contact was established, her 'home' was destroyed. So, what other solution is there? Death, of course. And that's precisely what happens.
The ending, from this perspective, seems quite conclusive. But I find there to be an undercurrent which is quite disturbing. So why is it that it is not portrayed? The reason, I think, is simple and has been hinted at above: this film, like the actors in it, and like the audience watching it, are the product of the post-contact period. We are all part of that age which is founded in large part on the colonization of the Americas. And that being so, we are all denied access to what had existed before then. Why so? Because once the different civilizations met each other, inevitably, they collapsed into a new, and comprehensive entity, which had Europe, certainly, as the standard, but which nonetheless liberally took whatever it needed from the native cultures. Maize and tobacco are just two of the more famous examples. The entire American double-continent is an even better one.
Knowing this, I found myself profoundly saddened by the film. What it gives us, or tries to give us, is a glimpse into a world that does not exist anymore. Perhaps it never existed at all. But the idea of it does. And to think of that idea as something that is not realized, and perhaps never was realized, is profoundly saddening. Let me put it this way: none of us will ever know what it felt like to be like that young girl and to correspond directly with Mother. None of us will be able to go back to that world the way that she does at the end when the dances in the garden in England (even if that return is momentary).
If we can never access this world, how is it that the film was made at all? I think the answer is stated in the film, but in a contradictory fashion. John Smith states, twice, that what he felt when he was with the young girl was reality, and everything else a dream, an illusion. The opposite is true: what he felt was a dream. The rest, and that is everything, is reality. This is not meant to be a criticism. On the contrary, the existence of this dream is very consoling. That is because the idea of the New World was and is a wonderful dream. The reality was and is a nightmare. This is the story of one woman who is treated rather well by the Europeans. There are 22 million dead people whose stories did not turn out so well. They tell the real story. Malick gives us the dream.