"We must be careful not to upset the naturals," announces Captain Newport (Plummer) as the good ship Susan Constant makes land on the coast of what will become Virginia.

Wise words. And ones that we already know won't be heeded as the crew scramble ashore and begin establishing a foothold in what they regard as their "new world."

An uneasy peace is reached with the locals - a proud, sophisticated sort ruled over by the chieftain Powhatan (August Schellenberg) - but it's not long before English arrogance leads to conflict.

The struggling colonists, watchful of attack and woefully unable to fend for themselves, elect the rebellious Captain Smith (Farrell) to lead an expedition upstream to find food.

However, they are ambushed and Smith - the sole survivor - is taken prisoner. His life spared at the instigation of the chief's daughter Pocahontas, he find himself going native. He also finds himself falling in love.

Terrence Malick is not a director you could ever accuse of being in a rush. With just a handful of films under his belt in a 30-odd year career, he first drafted this script 25 years ago.

His tardy timescale is also reflected in his movies, long, drawn-out contemplative affairs that often appear to drift into a National Geographic documentary - all buzzing bees and blossoming flowers - and then back again.

Here he quite graphically pitches the native Americans (wise, resourceful with a vocab that doesn't include the words lie or deceive) against the English (unkempt, feckless, duplicitous).

Bridging the cultural and social abyss between them is the thoughtful Smith, a socialist utopian centuries ahead of his time who, nonetheless, honours his allegiance to the court of King James.

His tender relationship with Pocahontas is the mainspring of the film, lending it warmth and humanity; qualities that seep away as the colonists degrade themselves and those around them with a feral brutality.

To derive maximum enjoyment, you have to be prepared for the long-haul - this is not a director who will appeal to the MTV generation - and the occasional awkward narrative leap suggests a draconian editing process.

Yet, it's worth sticking with. Farrell - smouldering rather than sweary - is on fine form, Kilcher is always watchable and you feel you can almost smell the wood smoke.

Tim Evans