The New World is the least of Terrence Malick's limited filmography to date, and could be best described as a monotone poem. It's not exactly bad, just mundane and rather forgettable even while you're watching it, more of a self-indulgence than a genuine attempt to communicate with an audience. Visually it often seems surprisingly flat and uninspired, while the script comprises of far too many trite voice over questions s-p-o-k-e-n...v-e-r-y...s-l-o-w-l-y...i-n...h-u-s-h-e-d...t-o-n-e-s against selections from his classical music collection, which doesn't magically render them profound but simply makes the film evenly paced to the point where nothing can stand out: even the battle sequence takes time out for more musings. Another big problem is the miscasting of the inexplicably prolific Colin Farrell, a nice enough lad offscreen I'm sure but an extraordinarily limited actor who just cannot carry a picture no matter how many chances he's given. True to form he trots out his two `important picture' expressions - the Bambi-caught-in-the-headlights-of-an-oncoming-car one and the one he thinks looks serious but simply makes him look like he's not been getting enough roughage in his diet. The fact that he's outshone by Q'orianka Kilcher in her first speaking part speaks volumes of his inadequacy, although to be fair he has been worse. Indeed, among the male leads Christian Bale does much, much more with much, much less in the last third of the film, as does a typically underused Christopher Plummer in the first third.
Malick is very good at the madness and mutiny that infects the deluded settlers of Jamestown, but because it happens to people we've barely been introduced to it carries no emotional or dramatic weight. If anything, it just made me think of how much more Herzog could have made of it all. Moments work, most notably the expulsion of the `Naturals' from their land, but on the evidence of the 135-minute version I very much doubt Malick's promised longer cut will solve the problems. I know it's meant to be a work of art, but I just came away with the feeling that I'd watched an old and very average Universal International 50s Western redubbed by first-year philosophy students. The only surprise was that Jeff Chandler and his bouncing Basques didn't crop up.