Review of The Green Knight (2021)

 

The Knight Shift

“And anyone who ever played a part, they wouldn’t turn around and hate it.”

• Lou Reed, Sweet Jane

“I was born into this life and it is a great honor to serve my country and the Queen.”

• Prince Harry, Letter of Resignation

The Green Knight is rooted in the medieval poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. What kind of producer would bet on a 13th century text as the basis for a feature film? Answer: someone who hires David Lowery as the writer/director. Lowery has a knack for giving new varnish to old stories. Bonnie and Clyde become quarreling high schoolers from an Everly Brothers’ song. A Ghost Story is a horror film remade as an Andy Warhol art movie. What will he do with a 800 year old tale of chivalric romance? Answer: the pomp and pageantry give way to existential questions. The knight in shining armor is a contemporary, disenfranchised, cellphone-bound, teenager. Behind the role-playing lurks self-doubt and skepticism. The monster becomes the question: what’s the point of slaying the dragon?

The dragon in this tale is the Green Knight, a Hulk-like figure who seems to embody the forest. His physicality is an amalgamation of old growth trees graphed onto a super-hero’s body. His opponent is the privileged screw-up, Gawain. The feckless teen is catapulted into stardom by his ambitious mother, the sister of the king. The mighty knights of the roundtable are too intimidated by the Green Monster so the callow Gawain accepts the challenge. The mother ensures the slight young man’s victory over this beast. The catch is that, after a year, the new knight must participate in a return match in a far off chapel.

The feckless rich kid is now a sanctioned hero replete with weapons, clothing and blessings of the church and high society. Old ways die hard and he fritters-away twelve months with drinking buddies and a beautiful lowly commoner. There is a wonderful scene in which she speaks all the words everyone wishes he would say. He certainly feels attachment but demurs for more established prospects. This is a tone-deaf careerist rather than a chivalric hero. His quest confirms our worst suspicions. Briefly into the journey he loses his horse, weapons and sacred tokens to a band of unimposing criminal scavengers. Losing his stallion is particularly noteworthy as the word “chivalry” is based on the French word for horse (cheval). These knights were inseparable from their animals. He is redeemed through set-piece encounters with various women who find him enthralling. They give him charms and tokens. A green belt for eternal protection and the sacred axe, which he needs for his encounter with the Green Knight. They come at a price but our transactional hero has the audacity to wonder, “What’s in it for me?” One of the princesses mercilessly chides him: Knights don’t ask the price of their services. He learns the art of accepting “gifts.” But therein lies the heart of Sir Gawain’s cardinal sin. He is a crass yuppie cognizant of “price” but oblivious to “value.” Every move is rooted in the calculus of advancement, not a code of chivalry. His passion is tempered by security. Boldness shows through at times, but it is the stuff of adrenaline, rather than blood. He encounters a majestic trail of giants lumbering across the mountains. He asks to ride on one of their shoulders. When the massive hand is outstretched Gawain flees in terror. No doubt mom would have approved: that looks too dangerous! Think of your prospects.

Lowery knows the timeless motifs of the ambitious mother and prodigal son. He also is aware that the supposed prudishness of the Middle Ages is a myth as fictitious as a real-life Green Knight. Noble women were strong, powerful and sexually confident. Knights were more akin to State-sanctioned marauders. The real code of chivalry was a device created by those in power to keep a check on ambitious men with weapons. (Historian Terry Jones, of Monty Python fame, has a wonderful series of videos on life in the Middle Ages). Lowery is a master of uncloaking the truth of a past that is ever-present. This is a fairy tale with the grit of our current world beset with Lermontov’s ambiguous “heroes.” Behind the magical-realism of sorceress’, giants, spells, witchcraft, knights, oaths, quests… is the darkness of sacrificing one’s integrity for mammon and standing. Only in this tale would the hero knight give away the token of his love’s affection to a seductress who happens to be his host’s wife. It is more The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills than The Legend of King Arthur. The denouement is equally unsettling. When it comes to winning the crown, he has Henry VIII’s family values. Perhaps “wins” is the wrong word. He deserves the crown and its never-ending parade of pain. The betrayed lover, fabricated bravery, stolen child and dead son are not the stuff of “happily ever after.” There is an inevitability to rebelling subjects and a burning castle. In the end he metaphorically joins fellow king Richard II on the ground talking of graves, worms and epitaphs… but does he?

Lowery puts a final twist on his twisted dream by borrowing from the most cynical of American writers, Ambrose Bierce. Like the Confederate Soldier in An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge, Gawain has a reprieve. Unlike the civil war counterpart his alternative life is the nightmare of actually being a king. At one point when the Green Knight raises his axe Gawain asks if this is “it”? Isn’t there more to the game of life? The Green Knight is befuddled. The embodiment of natural knowledge looks at the young man and embarrassingly admits… this is it. Our hero is, in the Buddhist sense, “truly in the moment.”. He puts away the protective charms. He bows his head and expects the blow. It is his first genuine act of bravery and maturity. He sees the broader picture: being king and not being king are… the same. The Green Knight salutes the “road to Damascus moment” by joking, “Now off with your head.” This is even worse than an actual blow. The elder Knight knows: you will always lose, but heroes fight anyway.

One could imagine the grammatical symbol for Chivalric Romance as an exclamation point, marking brave deeds and heroic triumphs. Lowery’s The Green Knight is the question mark at the end of “to be or not to be?” The performances are a perfect balance to the quirky sensibility of this unorthodox tale that frames an uncomfortable question. The actors are sexy, empathetic and precisely anti-heroic. The set and costuming are enthralling, exquisite without overspilling into Disney-like fantasy. The director’s mastery of the historical aspects of the period and mythology is exacting. The overall effect is to land in the uncanny valley of escapist fantasy. Lowery has the wherewithalto capture our imaginations. We fall into his dream. Strangely there is an unsettling quality in his looking glass. We expect uplifting dreams and torrid nightmares, but how to digest existential ambivalence in the context of a magical fantasy? Our knights in shinning armor aren’t supposed to wonder if the jousting match is covered by insurance. Their realizations can’t be the pointlessness of conventional heroism. We needed more of the Green Knight’s sagacity of acceptance. There is deep wisdom behind all the Hulk-theatrics that bend’s the heroic framework. It is interesting that in the original poem the Green Knight himself is a disguised relative. The entire “game” is revealed as a intra-familial life lesson. Lowery retains the spirit of the ancient scribes. That Zeitgeist is expressed by the cynical iconoclast, Mr. Bierce, in his Devil’s Dictionary: “Existence n. A transient, horrible, fantastic dream, wherein is nothing yet all things do seem: From which we’re wakened by a friendly nudge of our bedfellow Death, and cry: “Oh Fudge!”” Lowery’s quest might be disquieting for those expecting true horror or real fantasy. There’s the rub. The holy grail might be a beaten old terra-cotta mug, rather than a shining golden goblet.