Rebel Moon: The Director’s Cuts
NETFLIX
For I did drink
from the chalice of true belief.
And it set me free.
Finally released in its uncompromising form after an attempt to reverse-engineer a Snyder Cut phenomenon, Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon is finally viewable as an actual movie instead of a visually striking trailer whose poetry is unmatched but still feels wholly incomplete. It immediately sets a more cruel, brutally violent tone in the opening scene of its first chapter, Chalice of Blood, with Aris (Sky Yang) forced to kill his father after Atticus Noble (Ed Skrein) says it is the only way their family will be set free.
This almost twenty-minute-long sequence isn’t found in the PG-13 cut, A Child of Fire, and the voiceover narration brought upon by Jimmy (Anthony Hopkins) as the King’s Gaze arrives on Veldt through a phallic portal posits the film in a far different direction than Chalice of Blood’s vicious cold open. It fulfills Snyder’s ultimate promise of a ‘hard-R version’ of his hackneyed PG-13 movie and makes its story more cruel and ultimately far bleaker than the quasi-hopeful A Child of Fire.
When A Child of Fire ended with Kora (Sofia Boutella) and Gunnar (Michiel Huisman) returning to Veldt with Nemesis (Doona Bae), Titus (Djimon Hounsou), Milius (Elise Duffy) and Prince Tarak (Staz Nair), there was a sentiment of hope for the inhabitants of Veldt who were going to put up a fight against the Imperium’s iron fist. And, as we saw at the end of The Scargiver, hope was indeed found at Veldt, and its citizens will be able to build anew, even if it ends in tragedy for Kora.
But opening the first part of your director’s cut with a sequence that sees naked women be marked and sold and a King bludgeoned to death by his own son, who grows to become a soldier within Noble’s army, doesn’t instill hope or the promise of it. Instead, it examines how hope is directly taken away by a despot who doesn’t believe in his own words and constantly manipulates the people he is sworn to protect and support for his personal gain. It completely recontextualizes the entirety of A Child of Fire, which presented Noble as a bloodthirsty tyrant, but not with the added layer of sadism and blatant manipulation.
Chalice of Blood also further develops Veldt’s sexual impulses, with its Father, Sindri (Corey Stoll), encouraging the villagers to “Fuck hard tonight! Fuck for the harvest! Fuck for the very food we eat! Fuck for the gods!” Snyder then cuts to a sex scene that was completely removed from the PG-13 cut between Kora and Den (Stuart Martin), which immediately changes our perception of the character. The director’s cut no longer sees Kora as someone who longs for reconnection with Earth (as she caresses the grain in her introductory scene) after feeling from Balisarius’ (Fra Fee) empire but as an alienated human in the ultimate quest to love – and to be loved – again.
One can say the same thing for Tarak’s flight with the Bennu, which is now further repositioned after Snyder examines sex as an integral part of Veldt’s livelihood. He’s visibly (and audibly) aroused by the physical connection with the Bennu, fully reconnecting himself with the lost world of Samandrai and its creatures, though never sexually, his feeling of freedom is so powerful it may look like excitation. Such a way to perceive this incredible feat of action filmmaking wouldn’t have been possible had Snyder not included sex in his R-rated cut and boldly at the front and center of his picture as the only form of pleasure innocent people can experience as the rest of their life is slowly going to hell.
That’s where the violence comes in, which is no longer epic, sweeping and poetic but ugly, cruel and pitiless. Consider the sequence in which Kora defeats the Imperium Guards, who are about to rape Sam (Charlotte Maggi). Aris attempts to put up a fight but is overpowered by much stronger guards who tell him they will make him sit and watch. Kora arrives and kills everyone in the longhouse. While the sequence is executed in the same way this critic remembers from the PG-13 cut, the added blood and guts (feet being sliced, heads squished through laser guns, or by the throw of Kora’s axe) no longer makes the scene a satisfying feat of revenge for Kora, who slowly reveals herself as Arthelais.
Instead, the bloodshed feels unnecessary and the last resort for Kora, who has been ready to leave this life behind for so long. She even feels massive repression and guilt for committing something like this, which the PG-13 cut did not showcase. And since the violence here feels visceral and raw, the audience has no choice but to be confronted by how the characters’ penchant for debauchery and barbarity has not only corrupted the Known Universe but rendered most of its people inhumane (with Noble being the most corrupted of them all, and Charlie Hunnam’s Kai slowly becoming corrupted by greed).
It’s also why Snyder intercuts his massive setpieces with scenes where Jimmy begins to reawaken itself and find its innate humanity, which the Imperium has completely removed after the death of its Pueri salvatoris at the hands of the person who swore to protect her (one added scene with Cary Elwes’ Slain King makes the Julius Caesar-like assassination in The Scargiver all the more heartbreaking for Arthelais). Through the killing of an Imperium Guard who would assault Sam (the person who previously reawakened the robot’s joy, after stating, “It lives in you,”), Jimmy begins to reexperience what it means to be a human and fight for a more hopeful future in Veldt, as the Imperium mounts an attack.
These scenes are Chalice of Blood’s most soulful, intimate moments. The film is thus no longer about the quest for hope but about our protagonists reconnecting with their selves (through spiritual, or sexual acts) and learning to love again. Jimmy has a literal spiritual epiphany after conversing with Sam, which completely changes his perception of the world and brings him back the joy he lost after Issa was killed. Through a deft sense of kinetics and eye-widening painterly images, Snyder also repositions his mythmaking as a true tale of redemption, not only for Kora but for Aris, whose senseless act at the top of the movie will forever corrupt his soul until he does the right thing and helps Veldt in defeating Noble once and for all.
In Chapter Two, Curse of Forgiveness, the guilt carried by Aris transforms itself into action as he and Sam pave a new way forward away from the Imperium’s oppression, promising himself he will find a better life within its community and atone for his sins. But Kora/Arthelais is still riddled by the assassination of Princess Issa, the Pueri salvatoris, who, in a heart-shattering moment, says, “I forgive you,” before Arthelais fired her weapon. Issa forgives Arthelais, but she doesn’t want her forgiveness. The scene works even better when contrasting it to Aris killing his father, who says the exact same words Issa speaks to Arthelais before dying at the hands of someone he loved (none of this was in the PG-13 version).
However, Kora has finally found love, and is ready to move away from her past sins with Gunnar in Veldt. The sex scene they share is far more explicit than in the PG-13 film and contrasts itself to the one she has with Den in Chalice of Blood: less driven by her wanting to numb herself from the pain she carried at the hands of Balisarius but an act of pure, unconditional love towards Gunnar. Discussing sex in movies seems like a taboo subject these days, but Snyder recontextualizes it as not simply an erotic act but as the first gesture of love and lust towards an individual that allows “the seedlings to sprout,” not only literally but metaphorically. The inhabitants of Veldt have a close connection not only to Earth, and to the grain, but their community.
That’s why the ‘farming montage’ (which is far longer and has even more sequences in slow-motion) does not simply feel like a farming sequence where the village grows enough grain to meet the demands of the Imperium. Instead, it feels as if all the characters are reconnecting with the land and themselves. The simple act of tossing the grain while children are running in circles has made Nemesis find joy again, while Titus has given up drinking and rekindled himself with the purest form of liquid the universe has available to us: water. Snyder focuses on Titus filling his flask with water, with a point-of-view shot inside the barrel, underwater, as the General reminds himself of the universe’s most primal source of nourishment and hydration.
This moment makes the reveal in the Longhouse that he’s been drinking water all this time even funnier, with Tarak teasing the general by drinking in his flask to confirm that it is indeed not alcohol (the first of many moments of homoerotic tension between the two characters who, in a feat of incredible heroism, splatter the heads of as many soldiers as possible in Chapter Two’s most riveting slow-motion action scene). Moments of humanity like these were sparse in the theatrical cut, but, in the director’s cuts, Snyder wonderfully sits with the protagonists and develops them as much as possible before sending them into action.
For instance, the introduction to Nemesis was completely cut out of the PG-13 version, likely the most insane decision anyone’s ever met. In that movie, Nemesis is introduced into battle with Harmada (Jena Malone), with no idea who she is, where she comes from, or why she suddenly wants to help Kai (Charlie Hunnam), Kora and Gunnar in their quest. In the R-rated cut, there’s a scene in which the characters meet Nemesis before she battles Harmada. It’s a simple scene, but one that adds way more context on the character and develops her much further than the skeleton audiences had to deal with in the PG-13 versions.
But since Snyder’s visual poetry is so powerful, most of the development comes through the elaborate visual language and sun-drenched shots he fills his movies with. However, there are some moments that visual storytelling simply can’t convey, especially when it comes to the first contact with the protagonists. That’s why in the R-rated versions, Snyder takes as much time as he can to introduce everyone equally, and give them their time in the spotlight before Curse of Forgiveness’ splattering finale, one whose violence is less satisfying to watch than the PG-13, but far more cathartic and ferocious.
When Noble gets in the trench and kills everyone on the spot, the impact is way more brutal than the PG-13 cut had shown. The same can be said for Kora’s sidescrolling battle inside the King’s Gaze. When heads literally disintegrate as Kora shoots her pistol at them, her act of vengeance and quest for love feels more urgent and powerful.
She doesn’t care how many bodies are exacted and brutally slain – all she wants is to be freed of her past guilt and be loved again (by someone who accepts her unconditionally, but dies in her arms, to which she heartbreakingly states, “why can’t I have this one thing?”), even if the curse of Issa’s forgiveness will forever haunt her. In that regard, Boutella’s portrayal of Kora/Arthelais may be the best thing she’s ever done. Not only is her journey far more complete in the director’s cut, but each facial expression of heartbreak and anguish peer into our souls, making the final exchange between Gunnar and Kora a punch to the gut and a shock for the soul.
Kora’s curse of forgiveness ends when it’s revealed that Issa is alive. Unfortunately, audiences will likely never see another Rebel Moon movie past this one, especially regarding how Netflix has completely fumbled the bag. The studio knew they had a terrific 3-hour R-rated epic before them and decided to release a compelling but less-than-enthralling version of Snyder’s unadulterated vision. This resulted in massive disinterest from the viewers who gave up after the first film, thinking it would be unsalvageable when the R-rated versions themselves are two of the most daring works Snyder has ever produced.
By recontextualizing his stories with blunt violence and explicit sex, Rebel Moon feels less like a sweeping epic and more like a blood-soaked tale of horror, anguish, and ultimate redemption. Kora’s quest to redeem herself in her eyes is not driven by hope but by guilt, which fuels her anger as she confronts Atticus Noble in the first and second films and will stop at nothing until the Imperium (and, by extension, Balisarius) are finished. She eventually finds hope within Veldt, but her love for the community won’t be the same as it was with Gunnar.
The result is a grander, bloodier, hornier double-header for Snyder that will stand the test of time as one of the most ambitious sci-fi productions ever crafted by a master of the visual medium of cinema, who has constantly pushed the boundaries of what’s possible to capture with his poetic lens. Zack Snyder may not be for everyone, but his style will forever change the potential of cinema to come as more and more blockbusters adopt the house style of indistinguishable slop. When an auteur paints, one must pay attention, and there’s hope that cinema will be born anew when more people begin to watch movies with their eyes instead of consuming them as if it’s a commodified product. A re-education is in order. Who’s ready to take the leap?