I can understand why The Green Knight has not done well in theaters. It doesn’t have enough action or predictable plot structure to appeal to a mainstream audience, and it strays too far from the conventions and morals of the source material to appeal to fans of Arthurian literature.
But for someone like me, with no real connection to or more than passing knowledge of the original story who was in the mood for more surrealistic storytelling, The Green Knight is a fascinating and enjoyable film that has my English major brain all abuzz. I will say that a lot of my enjoyment of the film comes based on the assumption that the film-makers were deliberately crafting this ambiguous, dream-like, fairytale-esque deconstruction of “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” If they were trying to make something with a consistent overall theme and cohesive plot, then they missed the mark significantly. But I will give them the benefit of the doubt (for now) and assume that there were reasons why The Green Knight departs in some very important ways from its font of inspiration.
THE SOURCE
In the original poem, Gawain is one of the paragons of knightly virtue at King Arthur’s Round Table. While he’s still young and impulsive and eager to prove himself, he’s still a cut above us mere mortals. When the mysterious Green Knight comes to court at Christmas and makes his challenge, Gawain’s eagerness to prove himself lands him in a sticky situation. He cuts off the Green Knight’s head, but that doesn’t stop the knight from picking it up and promising to return the blow the following year.
However, there is never any doubt that Gawain will do his duty and go on a journey to meet his fate at the Green Chapel. The poem alludes to (but does not describe) adventures and adversaries encountered along the way, but Gawain’s main test comes at the castle of a mysterious Lord where the Lord’s wife tries to seduce him. While they exchange kisses, Gawain does not sleep with her. She does finally convince him to take a green sash which will protect him from harm. He takes it because he is afraid of dying, and doesn’t tell the Lord about this gift, which contrary to the promise they made to share whatever was received. This leads to Gawain having the back of his neck cut by the Green Knight because his armor of virtue was compromised by this act of deception. But Gawain is still virtuous enough that the Green Knight (who reveals himself to be the Lord in disguise) doesn’t kill him, but sends him home to Camelot with an admonishment to wear the green sash as a reminder that even paragons of virtue are not above temptation.
Frankly, this is one of the reasons I never found the characters of the Arthurian legends very interesting or relatable. Everyone is so gosh-darn perfect that these temptations and challenges don’t seem to be very serious. While I like having characters to look up too, the Knights of the Round Table always felt far too remote to even aspire to. Now, this is a feature of chivalric romances, and I don’t fault them for the style. It’s just not one that appeals to me very much. I liked the stories that directly involved magic, enjoyed Disney’s animated film The Sword in the Stone, and loved the mini-series Merlin featuring Sam Neill. But the original stories fell rather flat for me.
FLAWED HERO
Gawain from the film is clearly not the paragon of virtue that the original poem presents. He’s still young, impetuous, and eager to prove himself, but that’s where the similarity ends. The Green Knight’s Gawain (played by Dev Patel) is a wastrel who keeps saying he wants to become a knight the way some people say they want to become a best-selling author or a champion baseball player: a.k.a. without putting any real effort into making that stated aspiration a reality. Instead, he spends him time drinking and whoring and lying about where he’s been and what he’s doing. Great things are hoped for from him, and both his mother (the witch Morgan le Fey, played by Sarita Choudhury) and his uncle, King Arthur (played by Sean Harris), seem fond of him, but also a bit exasperated that he’s doing nothing with his life.
Which leads me to think that this entire adventure was put in motion by Gawain’s mother in order to push him into action.
Some people may prefer the near-perfect hero of the poem, but I was fascinated by this callow youth who repeatedly fails at the tests he is presented with. Gawain thinks he knows what it means to be a knight and how to gain honor, but his actions show that he doesn’t actually understand. At the same time, he’s also aware that he isn’t living up to the expectations of those around him, or even his own. Whenever he is praised for cutting off the head of the Green Knight, for being brave and bold and true, Gawain seems uncomfortable with the praise. The stories are exaggerations, and he knows it.
Gawain does learn and mature, but very slowly, and sometimes takes the wrong lessons from the encounters during his journey. He is only generous when prodded by the Scavenger (Barry Keoghan) on the battlefield, and even then his paltry coin is not enough to appease the bandits. When he encounters the ghost of Winifred (Erin Kellyman), he acts gentlemanly at first, but then stumbles when he asks what she will give him in return for his aid. (A knight is supposed to give his help without the expectation of reward, especially in service to a lady.) He fails to respect the rules of the game set by the Lord of the castle (Joel Edgerton), breaks the laws of hospitality, and forgoes the knightly virtue of chastity when he gives in to the Lady’s seduction. As the Lady (Alicia Vikander) tells him, “You are no knight.” It is failing this test, I think, that pushes Gawain past the warnings of his fox-guide to actually reach the Green Chapel… although even then he still has the magical green sash around his waist that is supposed to protect him from the Green Knight’s fatal strike.
The entire film seems to be focused on deconstructing “Gawain the Hero” into “Gawain the Flawed Human Being.” But there is still a nobility in Gawain because he does keep going. There are many times when he is tempted to turn back, and a few times when he tries, but ultimately continues. There are points in the film where we see alternate paths, one in which Gawain passively accepts his fate, but then decides to fight against it, and again when we see him fight his fate… but then his decision to accept it.
THREADS OF THEMES
The theme of accepting or fighting against one’s fate is but one of many that can be found in The Green Knight, but is one of the few that seems to carry through from beginning to end. Some themes or concepts are introduced and then seem to be abandoned, sometimes right after their introduction. Themes of chivalry, of human destruction of the natural world, of Christian and pagan symbolism, of magic and religion and spirituality, of the dual nature of humanity, of the cycle of life to death and back again… there are so many you can find and so many that seem to just… stop. We are left holding a handful of themes, desperately trying to trace them through the narrative to find some kind of overarching meaning. What is this movie trying to say?
I would argue that this is part of the point. It’s possible that the creators of the film tried to say too much and ended up saying nothing at all, or at least did not convey their message successfully. But in the context of the rest of the film, I think the multitude of themes that go nowhere is part of the realism in a surrealistic presentation. Humans are pattern-seekers and story-tellers. We try to wrestle order out of chaos, to assign meaning even when it may not be warranted. Life is not a neat, linear tale with themes you can find, but a messy knot of threads, some of which carry through and some of which don’t, but all of which are constructed retroactively by us. Like Gawain keeping the green sash knotted firmly around his waist in an attempt to remain whole, we try to construct meaning and continuity out of the randomness that is existence to hold our sense of self together. I think the plethora of interpretations and themes offered by The Green Knight’s ambiguous presentation helps bring that fact to our attention, and it’s no wonder that we aren’t comfortable with it.
INTENTIONAL AMBIGUITY
Normally, I don’t like this kind of ambiguity in films. I like seeing all the pieces, having each part play a role, with a clear road and themes you can parse out with a little digging. That doesn’t mean there can’t be mystery and surprises, and I really dislike it when a film beats you over the head with its MESSAGE but when you look back on it, you can see how it all fits together. The Green Knight is nothing but ambiguity, but this time I found it oddly intriguing. Instead of being frustrated, I wanted to know more. It kept me interested and engaged. The lighting and atmosphere of the film shifted it away from strict realism and into the dream-logic of traditional fairytales where events happen, people are encountered, and spells are cast with little or no explanation, then vanish back into the mists. Unlike traditional fantasy where magic has firm laws and foundations, the magic in The Green Knight is more akin to the magical realism of One Hundred Years of Solitude, where an otherwise ordinary setting has sudden spurts of magic no one bats an eye at, even though it seems like it should be seen as an unusual, noteworthy event. Christianity and paganism exist in combination, with appeals made to both saints and the elements in equal measure to try to keep loved ones from harm in a hostile, dangerous world. And the farther Gawain gets on his quest, the farther away he seems to be from the “normal” human world, which makes me wonder if he passed into the realm of the Fae by accident, without even realizing it.
Gawain himself is a kind of everyman cipher, and a lot can be read into his silences and expressions, depending on how charitable you want to be. For example, there is a scene in the film when his mistress, Essel (also played by Alicia Vikander), asks him to make her his lady, eventually his queen. Now, this could be taken as gentle flirting, a way to get him to say that he loves her before he goes on his quest rather than any real expectation of marriage. But regardless, Gawain doesn’t answer her. This could be interpreted a few ways, such as A) he doesn’t actually love her but is too cowardly to admit it to her face, B) he knows that she can’t be his lady and is unwilling to say he will when he knows he can’t due to their differences in station, or C) he knows he’s going to die when he meets with the Green Knight again and doesn’t want to give her any false hope of any future between them. But ultimately, we don’t really know much about what is going on inside Gawain’s head. That is left to interpretation.
SUCCESS AFTER REPEATED FAILURE
A lot of reviews seem to see this film as a cynical, modern reinterpretation of the source material, tearing down the ideas of chivalry, honor, and spirituality. It’s considered bleak at best, pretentious at worst, more akin to the cry of “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!” in Ecclesiastes than the glowing optimism of an Arthurian legend. And I can definitely see those interpretations. There’s plenty to support them, especially when you contrast the actions and presentation of Gawain, or if you don’t like this style of filmmaking. But I found something deeply hopeful underneath the grimdark trappings.
The point in the original poem is that Gawain passes every test set before him with flying colors, except for a relatively minor infraction that does leave a minor wound. In the film, Gawain fails every test that is set before him except for the last one, the one that really counts, the one that is the final test and challenge we all must face: meeting death. Gawain has to decide if he will go through with the bargain he made and exit life with honor, or if he will cling to the promise of protection offered by the green sash and run from his duty. If he runs, he would survive for the moment, but his dishonorable action and preoccupation with evading death would ultimately poison and destroy him by making it impossible for him to enjoy any bit of life. And to me, I found that message much more believable, compelling, and inspirational. Because we are all more likely to fail in life than to succeed. A culmination of smaller failures that we learn lessons from doesn’t mean that we will fail at the last, when it really matters. We can still make that choice to do the honorable thing, even if we have been less than perfect the rest of the time.
CONCLUSIONS…?
As you can tell, I have thoughts about The Green Knight. Most of them are positive, or at least not negative. I can’t say that I enjoyed the movie for sheer enjoyment’s sake, but it made me think. In fact, I’m still thinking about it and would be happy with multiple viewings, so it must have done something right, even though it may not be everyone’s cup of tea. This post barely scratches the surface of my thoughts on and reactions. If folks are interested, I’d be glad to do even more in-depth breakdowns on my thoughts and interpretations of different aspects of The Green Knight, such as the symbolism of the Lord and Lady. (Leave a comment, post a tweet, or send a message if you’d like to see a blog series on such things!)
Would I be interested in seeing a less surreal, more focused film interpretation, one that stuck closer to the themes and presentation of the original poem? Absolutely! I hope that there are other versions done by other creators so we can do some compare and contrast. Ones that focus on the religious/spiritual aspects of the journey, ones that feature paragons and ones that feature pariahs. I want to see optimistic versions and pessimistic versions. The legends of King Arthur and his knights have been told and retold in various mediums throughout the ages, and I’m certainly happy to see what they bring to the Round Table.
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(This article was originally published August 23, 2021 on SECOND UNIT REVIEWS and is republished here with permission from the author.)
The “deconstruction of virtue” in the original poem is way subtler, for it entails that the perfect hero fails BECAUSE he is perfect, meaning that the wish for perfection is a flaw when it becomes pride. Precisely what you saw in the film, but carried out much more significantly, since it is the perfect hero himself who realizes it, not the flawed one. Besides, Gawain is the paragon of virtue in the English tradition, whereas in the French one already in the Middle Ages he was seen as seriously flawed. If you read Malory’s Quest for the Holy Grail, Gawain’s bits serve only to highlight by comparison the accomplishments of the good kniights, i.e. Perceval, Bors, and Galahad. Since SGGK is in the English tradition, portraying Gawain in the French fashion means misrepresenting not only the original poem, but the whole tradition producing it.