Pruning the Rot

Graphic by Chase Manze; image courtesy of KOJO Studios

Knowing members of the crowd laughed as the floral opening credits transitioned into narrative and Narvel Roth (Joel Edgerton) was seen in his small, wooden home, diligently writing in his journal. Like Oscar Isaac, Ethan Hawke, and Robert De Niro before him, Edgerton's disembodied voice drifted out, making real a deeply hidden man. Following the screening, writer-director Paul Schrader explained that many of his films orient around this image of a man in a room, alone, wearing the mask of his profession, whether it be a priest, a card player, a cabbie, or a gardener, waiting for something to happen. In the early portions of Master Gardener, we often see Narvel, silent, patrolling along his flower beds, making mental notes. That is, until something happens. This film follows the well-established model of a "typical" Schrader film at this stage of his career, without ever achieving the cohesion, tension, and ecstasy of his previous works.

Narvel leads the horticultural team of an estate called Greenwood Gardens owned by Norma Haverhill (Sigourney Weaver), a performative southern pseudo-aristocrat constantly relishing in her status and impunity. Low-hanging oak trees rich with Spanish moss line the long road to her glimmering white plantation house at the center of the property. By comparison, even the abundant foliage feels small, a playful accessory. Narvel's staff, a group of three largely anonymous assistants all decked out in a drab uniform of green polos and khaki pants, is seen pulling weeds, pruning hedges, managing the fertilizer and loam. With rare exception, the film takes on a dulled color palette. Even the flowers seem plain, surrounded by the grey sky and the browns and blacks of the soil. One gets the sense that very little happens here, aside from the expected goings-on, with the exception of a yearly charity event of the utmost importance to Norma.

The "something" that happens happens early. Norma calls Narvel to her expansive porch and informs him that her troubled, twenty-something grand-niece, orphaned by two drug-addicted parents, is in need of some stability. He is meant to take her under his wing as an apprentice and instruct her via classes and work experience. Narvel, at first resistant, concedes.

Maya (Quintessa Swindell) arrives in black-tinted John Lennon glasses and an over-sized tie-dye "No Bad Vibes" t-shirt, looking firmly out of place amidst the endless static shrubbery, but quickly submits to the ways of Green Gardens. As is frequently the case in Schrader's films, Narvel, the stoic male lead, and Maya, the younger female under duress, develop a meaningful relationship as they begin to rely on one another for a kind of quiet, staccato comfort. Without going into greater detail, their relationship infuriates Norma, who forces them out of their positions and off of the property.

Edgerton's performance is minimal, essentially non-existent. Physically, he saunters about, a roving wall with arms and shoulders frozen in place, always leading with his legs in a slowed-down march. He's a presence, speaking flatly and rarely looking to cause conflict. Through these deliberate limitations, Edgerton conveys feelings of violent grief and desperation. Trapped within an agonizing self-imprisonment, Narvel clings to stability, holding on to the life he's now found, even if it’s limited to a one-room home and an expansive garden. Of the few moments in which Edgerton injects real warmth and satisfaction into Narvel is when he discusses horticulture. There are several scenes, including lectures to Maya, where Narvel, speaking quickly, runs through a wealth of historical and biological information with the fervent commitment of someone dedicated to their craft. In one scene, maybe my favorite of the movie, Narvel describes the way that plants are named, playfully riffing on his own assumed name, labelling himself a stinking rose and making Maya laugh. 

The only character worth taking issue with is Maya, who is perpetually in distress and whose motivations are never made clear. Swindell hits the emotional beats required of her by the script, but her performance never fully comes together due to the scattered, unsatisfying nature of the character. In comparison to, say, Jodie Foster's Iris in Taxi Driver and Amanda Seyfried's Mary in First Reformed, Maya is at once over-exposed and underdeveloped. She's a co-lead with Edgerton for the final hour of the movie, and is introduced to multiple conflicts, but her acceptance of certain plot points and her commitment to Narvel never make much sense.

Schrader anticipated this criticism in the post-screening talk back, saying "I don’t know how realistic it is but it certainly has value as a story" and "You don’t have to believe it you just have to imagine it." I appreciate the idea, and I appreciated his subsequent reference to the "phantasmagorical" sequences in First Reformed and The Card Counter, as well as the one in this film, as evidence of his imaginative narrative moves, but couldn't help but struggle with the increasingly strange decision-making of the characters which only served to distance me from the story.

Weaver seems to be having an absolute blast as Norma, a Tennessee Williams character removed from all modern trappings of contemporary society. Every line is spoken from a position of power, as she's only seen engaging with her employers. Even, and especially, in the case of her interactions with Maya, who Norma provides with a job and car service. Even the innocuous moments feel targeted and manipulative, and Weaver makes clear that Norma relishes her station, practically licking her lips before each new move. It's also worth noting that she's the only truly funny character in the movie, with multiple laugh lines spread across her several scenes. Unlike Maya, Norma, who is a relatively one-note character, is used selectively, emphasizing the impact of her few scenes.

Violence is in the air in this film, even if it rarely comes to fruition. Or, at least, that's what Edgerton said afterward while comparing this to other Schrader films. There's a simmering tension as the audience awaits an outburst from Narvel, Norma, or Maya, which helps propel the film to a point. Strangely, when the outright danger actually arrives, it feel insert. It's difficult to compare any film to First Reformed, but I can't help but look at the tone, essence, and dynamics it shares with Master Gardener. Master Gardener presents a much quieter film, committed to exploring a central character defined by his self-imposed restrictions. First Reformed operates similarly, but openly challenges the lead character's attempt at performative steadiness, allowing the film's unusual moments to flourish. This is more static, with less dynamism at its center due in part to the character's hyper-restricted lot in life. Any Schrader is good Schrader in my eyes, but I find it hard to be satisfied with a film only half-committed to earning its conclusion.