Master Gardener

I don’t love this movie, but I kinda like it.

I am partial to Paul Schrader. I don’t have to say I don’t agree with everything he says or everything he believes, right? Because we’re adults? That being said, I don’t love all of his movies. The Comfort of Strangers didn’t do it for me and Hardcore, despite having one of the best posters of all time, was much the same. I haven’t seen Blue Collar and am missing some other minor Schraders I can’t even name, but I also must confess to never having seen Raging Bull (sad!). The value of his remake of Cat People (and disclaimer, I haven’t seen the original) is anchored in a zany Malcolm McDowell performance and The Card Counter didn’t blow me away either. I’ll be touching upon that one in this piece and its “Man in a Room” similarities as I discuss Master Gardener. 

But yes, I love Paul Schrader. I do like Taxi Driver (I don’t consider it a favorite Scorsese, though), and while I believe Mishima to be one of the greatest movies ever made, First Reformed has had a resolute place in my Top 4 since I made my Letterboxd account. I think the allure of Paul Schrader is that he so obviously makes movies about what’s on his mind. When I started writing this, I had just followed a Master Gardener rewatch with The Canyons and American Gigolo. I thought both were provocative.

And you know what? I really am still split on this movie. The “Man in a Room” trilogy mostly fizzled out for me after its strong start, and while I haven’t revisited The Card Counter since catching it in theaters, I want to think a bit on these movies collectively and hopefully come to some conclusion on Master Gardener. 

So, Rev. Toller, Bill Tell, and Narvel: three men with regrets looking for some kind of penance and/or redemption. Toller and Tell are both military men who have done wrong (Teller’s own service was fine, it was pushing his son to join up that ruined him), but Narvel, notably, is not a military man. In his disgraceful former life (again, Teller doesn’t really have a “former life” in the same exact way), Narvel was a violent white supremecist. Yeah, it turns out his name isn’t actually Roth (which is an interesting choice… Roth does not have Hebrew origins but is most certainly a surname associated with Jews). While I refer to the other protagonists by their surnames, I’m sticking with Narvel for our titular master gardener in this piece if only for the laffs. No other name could beat Narvel. 

Anyways, like Toller and Tell, Narvel is very much into journaling and has a seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of a specific subject. In his case, that subject is—you guessed it—gardening. Like the others, his routine is calculated and paramount. It’s a touch of the transcendental style, but Master Gardener also invokes the natural. Gardening and meditation can go hand in hand, and for Narvel, they do (the latter, I believe, is implicit). I’ll expand on it later, but I think there’s a bit of fence sitting here that ultimately harms the film.

Toller and Tell have an advantage over Narvel, whose past left more than psychological wounds. Toller has a drinking problem, sure, and maybe that’s where his stomach cancer is coming from, but his real problem (and the one driving the drinking) is with himself. He’s sad and struggling with his faith. Bill Tell is just… debatably irreparably damaged and a ticking time bomb. Narvel isn’t really either of those things. Honestly, when the film opens, I’d say he seems pretty chill. Counted among the scars of his past are the horrific Nazi tattoos revealed later in the film as well as the Witness Protection Program (WPP) life he is resigned to. Narvel’s probably killed some people or has at least been party to murder, but there’s something about being a gardener that really takes the edge off of him. Tell is in and out of casinos and seedy motels, whereas Narvel’s days are seedy in a different way… hah.

So… Narvel’s life appears quite dandy. He’s planning a garden for a charity event for this wealthy older lady, Norma Haverhill (portrayed by Sigourney Weaver), who he is having sex with. I think their relationship is pretty interesting—she obviously knows about his past, whether it’s because she is aware of his involvement in the WPP or just because she sees him with his shirt off—and holds some power over him. It’s a dependent relationship I would say is similar to the one Rev. Toller has with Abundant Life, who pay First Reformed’s bills; they are both patrons of our protagonists. The degree to which Haverhill and Narvel’s encounters are consensual or coerced is not made clear. Regardless of whether Narvel enjoys it at all, the fact that he can’t really say “no” or even “not tonight” is a function of his second life I find compelling. I imagine he thinks of it as akin to a duty, a penance he has to undertake as part of his larger punishment, whereas Rev. Toller is frustrated but ultimately accepts his Abundant Life dependency as a simple fact of life. I think Haverhill fetishes Narvel and his past, another way in which he is burdened and trapped by his previous life. It does distinguish that relationship from the one in First Reformed, but I would also argue that Rev. Toller’s resignation to the rural New York parish is also his own banishment after the death of his son and his divorce, and I think he does see it that way… like the more lowly life he leads at First Reformed is something he deserves. 

Haverhill herself is only mildly interesting outside of Narvel. She’s a wealthy woman who’s very particular. She’s not bursting with warmth, and her garden charity auction seems to be a manner of tradition rather than compassion. As his boss/patron, Haverhill has control over Narvel in a literal sense, but she also represents the past, which we know is what actually oppresses him. Her status as a dowager, her ownership of the historic estate, and even her age are all the superficial representations of bygone time. Her actions in the film take it further; when she explains to Narvel the arrival of her grand-niece and the circumstances of her life, she’s obviously displeased by not only Maya’s upbringing, but notably turns a figurative nose up at her being mixed race. We don’t necessarily know how Narvel actually feels about this, he’s beholden to Haverhill and has to remain silent and complicit in response to her attitude, much like he’s chained to his past!

Then, we have the gun. It was Mrs. Haverhill’s father’s, a relic of the Second World War. Ah, but isn’t it so much more? It’s an artifact of their lineage… their deep WASP roots are embodied by the weapon, especially, of course, when it is aimed and fired directly at Narvel. He’s already made his decision to move on, to choose hope and a future not bogged down by what has been. The gun, pointed directly at Narvel, is useless. He’s already unloaded it, and it is powerless. It’s no longer for Haverhill to weaponize against him! 

What I have to say about Maya’s character is worse, in that she really is less than interesting. To be clear, I’m not really offended by this two-dimensional young woman. She comes from a bad family, she takes some solace in gardening, she gets back into trouble, and, despite being mixed race, she falls in love with our Nazi-tattoo-covered protagonist who is probably older than her father and ends the movie as his “WIFE”. I don’t even think Joel Edgerton is that busted looking, it’s just a stretch of the imagination to watch this early-twenties-year-old go all in on this relationship. Schrader is far from a feminist hero, but Maya really is just flat. It’s forgivable—it doesn’t feel hateful. I may be giving him too much leeway, but the film doesn’t work without her as-is.

Making a woman-character two-dimensional for the plot... arghhhh. I do think that sometimes, ya gotta do it. There’s an argument to be made that it happens enough to men, too, and while I think that’s true, I think it’s outweighed by how often male characters are allowed to be fully fleshed out. Anyway, this movie doesn’t necessarily work if Maya is complex, and, unfortunately, her base characteristics are kinda her whole point. Maya’s life rudimentarily reflects Narvel’s. She also hits all of the key aspects to make their relationship necessary. Her being nonwhite is obvious enough, right? She’s also young, another superficial representation. She so clearly evokes the future as an embodiment of the new and next generations. 

Most notably, and in contrast to her great-aunt, Maya doesn’t aim and attempt to fire the gun. She could be thinking of the practical consequences… but even thinking of the practical consequences counts as considering her future. Maybe it’s Maya’s right to enact revenge on the men who have ruined her life—using the symbolic gun of her heritage, of course—but it’s certainly her choice to not perpetuate harm and leave it all behind. And that’s truly the point of the film. By embarking on a relationship with Maya and disobeying Haverhill, the mistress of white tradition, Narvel makes his own choice.

So… you’ve probably ascertained that I understand the themes of Master Gardener. I’m going to tell you now that I not only understand them, I really like them! This film just doesn’t work for me, and I’d like you to bear with me while I attempt to fully articulate why. I’ll acknowledge that not every movie that experiments/works with transcendental style has to be pure Bressonian or Malick-like. I’m not too well-versed on it—and Schrader’s own Transcendental Style in Film is growing dusty in its spot on my To-Read list—but I like to think I have a basic understanding and am not totally talking out of my ass. 

It’s with that confession I’ll also note I’m being quite loose with my ascribing of “transcendental style” to Master Gardener. I would never label it transcendental outright because that would be blatantly wrong, but I also think that Schrader can’t help himself and that’s what he likes. I already mentioned that gardening and meditation are cut from the same cloth, and while I’d probably back down from an argument with someone who felt strongly about it, I really do think this film is undergirded by spiritual elements both formally and thematically and while they match, it just doesn’t work for me. I think themes of forgiveness and self-absolution are inherently spiritual—take that with a grain of salt, as I am not a spiritual person. It takes a lot of introspection, is all I’m saying. 

To induce the meditative trance and the free flow of vibes, transcendental films must forgo narrative to some degree. There has to be space for the feeling. I’m just not sure Master Gardener accomplishes that. It teases it, but I think the film is ultimately too short and without much room for breathing. Aside from Narvel’s journaling early in the movie, the film is largely plot-driven. There’s just some disharmony there, and that’s where the whole thing leaves me lukewarm. 

Some of my commentary has to be on something I’m not quite sure about. It relates to Haverhill and Maya, their relationship with Narvel, and the whole garden thing. Consider for a moment the most famous garden… yeah, you got it. How could I ignore that association? This is where my recent Mother! watch and the significance of How to Read Literature like a Professor at a pivotal point in my education (the phrase “If She Comes Up, It's Baptism” echoes in my mind often) are really influencing me. The garden might be a coincidence…but we’re also talking about Schrader here. I won’t entertain the Lillith/Eve angle because that’s basically a pseudo-religious internet meme, so I guess I don't have much to say on the women. Maybe I’ll just end this thought on the fact that Narvel accepts forgiveness and new life and then gets to live in the garden (paradise? Heaven?) forever.  

Finally, what sets Master Gardener apart in the “Man in a Room” series is, I believe, it’s optimism. The Card Counter is totally nihilistic—the boy (the Tye Sheridan character) is dead, and Tell, through his enactment of revenge, has proven himself to be the monster he perhaps always was and can’t escape. He ends the film jailed again, and while he might even find solace in the strict routine and sameness of each day, he’s a layer divorced from his humanity (and from his love interest, who is certainly a part of it). Tell is physically and emotionally resigned to his fate. First Reformed is a whole other beast with an ending that’s much more open to interpretation. I’ve got my own opinion I believe deeply in that’s probably more positive than others’, but it’s leaps and bounds away from the end of Master Gardener.

Early on in the film, Narvel distinguishes himself from Tell and Toller by acknowledging that gardening is “a belief in the future.” It’s one thing for Tell to embark on a romantic relationship and another for Toller to encourage Mary to have her baby—I consider those both more passive than the act of gardening every day. Even if Narvel doesn’t believe he has a future, he’s planning for it. Plus, the thing about Master Gardener is that Narvel does have a future, and it’s his choice. I don’t really think that Narvel’s guilt or his former life is at all comparable to Toller’s despair or Tell’s rage, and that’s also where the film fails a bit. Symbolically it’s all there, but I’m not sure I literally see the depth that makes his change so remarkable. He opts into his own salvation, but I would argue that because the decision was his all along, the resolutive effect is undermined. With the transcendentalist elements, you can rely heavily on internal conflict. With narrative-driven plot, you can lean into external conflict. Master Gardener attempts a bit of both to unsatisfactory ends. That being said, I still think it’s an interesting film, and I’d throw it on again in a heartbeat. We all owe Paul Schrader a lot.

P.S. I wasn't really a huge fan of Joel Edgerton before Master Gardener (I would go as far as to say I disliked him), but this movie really changed my opinion on him. I get him now. He's great.

P.P.S. My second watch of this film was in JetBlue Mint flying back to Boston from Paris. 10/10 would recommend. Great moment in my life.