(dir. Terrence Malick)
love hate life death creation destruction visual poem dichotomy singularity joy sorrow courage fear father son god devil whispers in the night chaos of the cosmos meditation masturbation wealth poverty silence clamor lethargy vitality beauty deformity celebration celebrity abomination anybody nobody everybody heaven hell apocalypse paradise deny accept beginning end begin again
This is a film fit for James Joyce, or Samuel Beckett even: all of the most important events, ideas, and emotions of the whole universe on display, yet shown with such simplicity, such quietude... such anonymity. I don't even know if any of the characters have names - they just simply are. It's not a film that was made so much as guided; it's not something we watch so much as observe. The Tree of Life washes over the viewer, conjuring up images of our collective past, present, and future - some archetypical and rote, some unbelievable and fantastic. The film tries to do no less than capture the whole of experience - the whole of existence - in its omniscient eye.
The plot (as much as there is one) concerns the upbringing of a man apparently named Jack (had to look that up - he's played by Sean Penn as an adult). The opening segment of the film cycles through many of the dichotomies listed above, and then focuses in on how they apply to Jack's family specifically: the joy over the birth of his baby brother, the sorrow at his death. This is given in the context of all of existence: so while it is devastating to the family, it means next to nothing compared to the universe. Eventually the film settles from this truly omniscient view to spend the bulk of its second segment (over half the film) on Jack's childhood, specifically his relationship with his father. Jack's father (Brad Pitt) is a hard man, but he is not evil or especially mean. He has strict, linear views of the world, and he believes passing that on to his children will ensure their success in the future. You play by the rules, you do the things you're supposed to do, and eventually it will pay off.
Their relationship encapsulates just about every emotion you could imagine, and while many reviewers have talked about Pitt's character as an abusive, religious zealot, they're missing the point. First off, he's not really abusive - he's just very strict. There is a line between discipline and abuse, and the closest he comes to abuse is forcing one of his sons into time-out. Second, "religious zealot" conjures up the wrong connotation. He is a very religious man, but he is not fanatical. The realistic fairness with which he is portrayed is admirable. There's a particularly touching scene where he inadvertently admits his tactics may amount to nothing: he played by the rules, he did everything he was supposed to do, and it never paid off.
Sean Penn was apparently quite upset that his character was all but cut out of the film. According to him, the script had no resemblance to the chimeric stream of imagery which now defines The Tree of Life. (According to cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, Malick is assembling a six-hour version of the film - a mammoth "special edition" - which is truer to his original intention.) In my opinion, while I understand Penn's frustration, it sounds like he is focusing too much on his expectation of the film rather than the impressionistic final product itself. Thematically, cutting Penn's material works quite nicely - taking this huge celebrity and reducing him to a near-anonymous everyman, wandering through the world uncertain of just about everything. The real star of the film, anyway, is the masterful Emmanuel Lubezski. This is some of the finest color cinematography I've ever witnessed. Ever. Every shot is immaculately composed and captured, and he does it while breaking the "rules." Textbooks dictate you should maintain a certain distance from your subject in certain scenes, you should give a certain amount of "head room," "leading space," "breathing space," you should use certain lenses only for certain effects; Lubezki violates all of these, going in uncharacteristically close with laissez-faire compositions and atypical lens choices. That the film looks so good with his experimental work is a testament to its quality. In an ideal world, this would turn out to be his third Oscar win in the category; in our world, of course, this will undoubtedly be the third time he is overlooked (he was robbed for his work on Children of Men and The New World).
Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life is a dichotomous film: a visual poem with so much to say, but it speaks so quietly. So gently. Some will love it, some will hate it; I imagine most will feel a little of both. It languors around its narrative, setting up conflict there while showing something wondrous here. Rarely have I seen a film so unconcerned with its narrative while still trying to relay one. With his grand, exquisite, visionary visuals, it seems as though Malick is saying, above all, that all our rage and our noise, our sorrows and our joys, amount to little more than a whisper against the din of the cosmos.
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