A ‘Hero’s’ Journey: A Thorough Scrubbing of “The Green Knight”
Here we are, nearly a year on (er, hence?) from fall 2020 and yet another asymmetrical and moderately polarizing film has risen to become my favorite of 2021. The Green Knight is the latest offering from director David Lowery, whose previous A24 effort, A Ghost Story, is either middling or fantastic, all depending on who does the telling. Such disparate responses are the very soul of The Green Knight, a film which beckons you to interpret its every element while resisting any one correct reading. Critically, it’s also not an action movie, a bold choice that is bound to be alienating for anyone who walks in expecting a swashbuckling adventure.
For me, the purpose of Lowery’s adaptation came into view during the beheading game scene, featured in the trailer. As in the 14th century source poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a mysterious challenger appears with an offer — a brutal exchange where an opponent attempts to strike with the knowledge the blow will be returned in kind. The gallant yet unproven Gawain accepts the offer, removing the stranger’s head in a single strike. Having seen the marketing or read the poem, or even possessing a basic understanding of cinematic structure, this scene is both nauseating and hard to read. Implicitly, it’s understood that Gawain should not do this, that any martial action will ultimately lead to his own demise. But in the company of the legends of King Arthur’s court, this “green” knight, not knowing what to do, does the only thing one can with a shining borrowed sword: swing.
The moment, ostensibly the film’s first and only action scene, is played with no fanfare, and having now watched it twice, it’s designed to make you squirm, even as Gawain’s audience cheers. It highlights the vast distance between Gawain’s emotion and the crowd’s emotion, between a contemporary viewer’s perception and a contemporaneous viewer’s perception, between acts of valor and the myths that tell of them. This act is the genesis of the adventure and the first in a series of games where our protagonist, who symbolizes potential, must participate without knowing the rules or the purpose. Each one functions as a psychological probe into him that also challenge readers’ assumptions about what fantasy stories are and what the right or wrong course of actions are, or if such moral distinctions even matter in a world defined by violence and death.
Adding to the film’s ambiguity is its heavy use of symbolism that remains interpretable on a scene-by-scene basis. Many have already applauded the cinematography, and indeed The Green Knight is almost rigidly formal, mimicking the orderly and rhythmic verse on which it is based. Visually the film is ornate, full of images designed to provoke you into wondering the value and meaning of each object. For example, during the beheading game, Gawain knocks over a chalice of blood wine, which floods the etched round table upon which it sat. Is this a symbol of his ardor, his bloodlust? And similarly when little shrubs grow in a similar shape around the Green Knight’s ax, do they symbolize his long gestating patience, perhaps envy at not sitting by the King’s side? I have wondered to myself if perhaps the two colors are meant to represent the Christmas holiday during which the film is set, maybe they reflect the virtues and vices of Christendom, where blood and wine have altogether different meanings. Such images flow freely and constantly through the film, most not even remarked upon as directly as these two colors.
In my initial log of the film, I referred to it as “textually rich,” and what I meant by that is the movie is built exactly in the image of its source, a poem whose passages have been interpreted in a myriad ways from Christian to homoerotic to feminist. The film largely takes a modern approach on this, one which puts a hot spotlight on the merits and value of chivalry, knighthood, adventuring, and everything else that comes with this period and genre. Boldly, it also peels up the sticker on a major fantasy archetype, The Hero’s Journey, popularized by Joseph Campbell as well as George Lucas’ Star Wars. That model is based around a protagonist who goes on a quest which changes them fundamentally, and it is a sturdy through line that runs through centuries of fiction.
In The Green Knight, Gawain’s trials are a reflection of his heart, a protracted series of interrogations of his values, probes as to how he interprets the open-ended ethical quandaries that mark his tasks. A healthy chunk of the movie is dedicated to the “too quick year” between beheadings, and this choice is illustrative of the entire film’s approach: the story is all about what Gawain thinks and the choices he makes. In this way it totally upheaves the Hero’s Journey model, suggesting that these murky scenarios do not define a person, but reflect them. Change must be internal, and it is the byproduct of choice, which is not as simple as sitting on a horse or swinging around a blade. Knighthood and personhood are often defined by violence, often heralded as heroism, but The Green Knight is less concerned with what makes it onto the pages of the book, and more concerned with how aging men feel when they feel the castle walls crumbling around them. Whether drunk in a brothel, muddy in the woods or regally atop a throne, a person is only left with their choices, their interpretations echoing through the hall of mirrors in their souls.
They cry out, “You look like a knight.” They intone, “You are no knight.” Not unless you choose to be.
