After emerging out of his obscure corner of the sandbox with his most recent searing, anguished portrait of the existential ‘man in a room,’ writer/director Paul Schrader retreated even further into the mind of this character whose seemingly endless roots stretch all the way back to the screenplay for Taxi Driver. Apparently, this formula, which has certainly been successful for Schrader and includes such gems as Light Sleeper and the aforementioned First Reformed, can be duplicated in practically any context and backdrop, even ones as diverse and unusual as professional gambling and horticulture. Schrader has said he considers First Reformed, The Card Counter and Master Gardener a loose trilogy and indeed there is a conflicted, haunted man at the center of each story, but what sets First Reformed apart from the other two is Schrader’s willingness to explore the depths and complexities of the dark desires and conflicts of Reverend Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke), whose doubts of faith are more relatable than the trials and tribulations of the two other protagonists, which come across as obscure and contrived. The Card Counter and Master Gardener attempt to tell a very similar story to First Reformed, both thematically and stylistically, with minor variations that appear to make them different movies but are, in fact, quite identical. The best elements of First Reformed cannot necessarily be replicated in the second or even third attempt, at least without becoming predictable and trite by the familiar ending.

The Card Counter centers on William Tell (what a movie name!), a professional gambler who bets small and wins small so as not to attract too much attention. His haunted backstory is slowly revealed through flashbacks which irritatingly interrupt the story at seemingly random intervals. Like Toller and other Schrader protagonists, he encounters a young man (Tye Sheridan) who may be able to help him in his quest for salvation, and a woman (Tiffany Haddish) who will provide everything else. As it turns out, his haunted past comes from his time as a military policeman in Abu Ghraib, which is not evoked effectively but can be excused given the movie’s budget (Schrader gets around this by filming the scenes with extreme fish-eye lenses). Naturally, Tell encounters a figure from his past (Willem Dafoe in perhaps his most understated role), with whom he must eventually square off in order to attain his salvific atonement. The familiar dramatic elements are present, and Isaac is capable of carrying the movie, but Schrader doesn’t allow the material to develop beyond its basic outline. Having seen Taxi Driver, Light Sleeper, American Gigolo, and even more obscure titles like The Walker, it’s hard to avoid seeing Schrader’s rhymes and patterns in investigating this confused and troubled man through various chapters of his life. By the end, there is little mystery or intrigue left. The same is true for the third movie Master Gardener, but even more so. In this iteration, we follow Norvel Roth (another name!) who is a horticulturist for a wealthy widower running an estate notable for its scenic gardens. Like Tell, Roth has a dark past, although his seems to be more his own doing, while Tell is depicted as a victim of circumstance. Nevertheless, the plot machine repeats once more: Roth fosters a relationship with a younger person (Quintessa Swindell) who will help lead him to atonement, as he tries to cope with his secrets and maintain a working relationship with his boss (Weaver), whose character is not too unlike Susan Sarandon in Light Sleeper. The quintessential Schrader ending (taken directly from Robert Bresson’s Pickpocket) which he has used multiple times, wraps up Tell’s story arbitrarily and unsatisfactorily but not Roth’s, which may indicate Schrader’s desire to begin a new chapter for any future ‘man in a room’ stories. Yet, Master Gardener‘s ending is uniquely unfulfilling in its contrived and forced manner for the sake of today’s emphasis of diversity and inclusion. This is not to say it is wholly lacking in merit, only that Schrader’s attempt to demean obvious racism is obvious and patronizing.

Without sounding too cynical, it is important to note that The Card Counter, Master Gardener (and many other Schrader pictures) are elegant examples of how to make good-looking, skillful movies on a tiny budget. This is something Hollywood used to be able to turn out in spades but is now an all-but forgotten artform. Much of the same crew worked on all three movies, leading to all three having similar visual styles and little else to distinguish them. Stark shadows and muted colors evoke the tightly-wound, repressed world Schrader wants and, indeed, none of this is worth complaining about. But Schrader’s inability to direct his actors is. With the exception of Ethan Hawke’s repressed yet startling portrait of a pastor far removed from his faith and looking elsewhere for answers, most of the actors in all three movies play their roles in a subdued, almost catatonic manner. Great actors like Amanda Seyfried, Oscar Isaac and Sigourney Weaver are reduced to standing still, saying their lines with a hint of conviction, nothing more, and leaving no memorable imprint in their scenes. They seem as lifeless as the natural and meticulous production design. Furthermore, actors out of their range are given equal weight as the heavy hitters without being able to bear the load. In the case of Master Gardener, Swindell’s angsty, rebellious young niece does little more than stare blankly at Roth for most of the movie, until she suddenly lashes out at him for something he has clearly spent much of his life trying to atone for. Does it help that she emphasizes this point, or that she would enter into a romantic relationship with him as a result? It is hard to care for characters whose whims seem merely at the behest of the screenwriter’s.

If these three movies are a loose trilogy, what do the two lesser stories — The Card Counter and Master Gardener— contribute? It would seem to be little more than making First Reformed look even better and that might be attributable to Schrader working with characters and themes familiar to him: Dutch Calvinism, religious angst and the need for absolution of past wrongs. The Card Counter and Master Gardener feature little of these elements and seem to be dancing a dance without knowing the moves. Certainly, Schrader has made good movies outside of these themes (Affliction, Auto Focus, Cat People) and he will probably do so again. But if he insists on trotting out the tired man in crisis who seems to write in a journal for no reason other than to tell us his thoughts, one hopes it will be updated for the times in more than just the decor and plot points.