Master Gardener

Paul Schrader is currently the only director in Hollywood who can make a scene about the chemical composition of soil feel like a ticking time bomb. At 76, while most of his contemporaries are either retired or making legacy sequels to films they shot in the 80s, Schrader is busy finishing a loose "Man in a Room" trilogy that began with First Reformed and continued with The Card Counter. With Master Gardener, he rounds out this trio of lonely, journals-writing men by giving us Narvel Roth—a man who spends his days obsessing over "the language of flowers" and his nights trying to ignore the swastikas tattooed across his torso.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor was outside leaf-blowing his driveway for three straight hours, and honestly, the constant drone of yard work actually added a strange, 4D immersion to the experience. It fits the film’s vibe: repetitive, methodical, and slightly aggravating.

The Gospel According to Mulch

Joel Edgerton plays Narvel with a stillness that is almost unnerving. He’s the head horticulturist at Gracewood Gardens, a lush estate owned by the wealthy, icy dowager Norma Haverhill (Sigourney Weaver). Narvel is a man of extreme discipline, a trait born from a need to suppress the violent, white-supremacist beast he used to be. He talks about gardening with a religious intensity, explaining how a garden is a place where the past is managed and the future is curated.

Everything is in balance until Norma insists that Narvel take on her grand-niece, Maya (Quintessa Swindell), as an apprentice. Maya is young, Black, and struggling with a drug-addicted past. You don't need a PhD in screenwriting to see where the friction is going to come from. When Narvel’s ink eventually comes to light, the film stops being a quiet study of botany and turns into something far more volatile.

Schrader is working here with a lean $4.1 million budget, and you can feel the indie hustle in the best way. Instead of sprawling sets, he uses the claustrophobic beauty of the gardens to create a world that feels entirely isolated from the rest of 2023. It’s a film about the "now"—addressing racial trauma and the possibility of radical forgiveness—but it feels like it’s being told through a Victorian lens.

A Thorns-and-All Performance

The acting is what keeps this from wilting. Joel Edgerton is a master of the "internalized scream," and he makes Narvel’s transition from a stoic monk to a protective warrior feel earned. Then there’s Sigourney Weaver, who is clearly having the time of her life playing a woman who views her employees—and her lovers—as mere extensions of her property. Her performance is brittle and terrifying; she’s like a frost that refuses to thaw, even in the Louisiana heat.

However, we have to talk about the central relationship. As Maya and Narvel grow closer, the film takes a turn that has divided a lot of contemporary audiences. The central romance has the age-gap chemistry of a dry piece of toast, and Schrader’s dialogue for the younger characters can be a bit... "how do you do, fellow kids?" There are moments where the generational gap in the writing is so wide you could drive a tractor through it.

Maya is written with a certain 1970s "troubled youth" energy that doesn't quite mesh with the 2020s setting, but Quintessa Swindell brings enough soul to the role to make it work. They have to navigate a script that asks the audience to believe in a very specific, almost fairy-tale version of redemption. It’s a bold swing in a cultural climate that isn't particularly interested in giving former Nazis a second chance, let alone a romantic one.

The Beauty of the Budget

What I love about this era of Schrader’s career is the lack of "fluff." Because this was shot in just 20 days on a shoestring budget, there isn't a single wasted shot. The cinematography by Alexander Dynan makes the flowers look like alien life forms, and the score by Devonté Hynes (better known as Blood Orange) is a synth-heavy, dreamlike departure from the usual orchestral swells of a prestige drama. It’s a very "now" sound for a very "then" director.

Turns out, the estate used for filming is actually a combination of several locations in Louisiana, including the New Orleans City Park. The production couldn't afford a massive greenhouse build, so they relied on existing locations and clever framing to make the world feel expansive. It’s a testament to the idea that you don’t need $200 million and a CGI "Volume" to create a distinct atmosphere; you just need a director who knows exactly where to put the camera and a lead actor who can say everything with his eyes.

Is it as powerful as First Reformed? Probably not. That film had a jagged edge that Master Gardener trades for a softer, more optimistic conclusion. But in a landscape of franchise saturation, seeing a filmmaker in his late seventies still grappling with the dirtiest parts of the human soul is refreshing. It’s a weird, prickly, sometimes awkward film that stays in your brain long after the credits roll.

Ultimately, Master Gardener is a film about the hope that we can outgrow our worst instincts. It’s not always comfortable to watch, and the ending might feel a little too tidy for a story that starts with a swastika on a man's back, but it’s undeniably the work of an auteur who isn't finished saying what he has to say. If you can get past the occasionally clunky dialogue, you’ll find a beautiful, quiet thriller that proves even the most scorched earth can eventually grow something new.