Rated PG-13 for some thematic material
Cast: Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, Tye Sheridan
Director: Terrence Malick
Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life" is like a tapestry that somehow manages to cincture Creation itself. For some viewers, it will speak directly to their souls with voices stentorian. Others it will leave awash in a sea of maddening incomprehension. Neither reaction is wrong, nor do they reflect the intellect of the viewer. To say that Malick’s latest endeavor isn’t for everyone is redundant. True art is never geared for the masses.
This is the reclusive artist’s fifth film in four decades and while that may invite snickers from some, it’s remarkable how, in such a measured body of work, Malick has been able to carve his own distinct creative niche among the directing elite. This isn’t a story so much as a prolonged meditation on the search for existential meaning and the struggle to maintain faith and hope in the face of loss. That no conventional wisdom is preached to us is a staple mark of Malick’s approach. He prefers the tantalization of enigmas to the solace of answers.
The storytelling approach is a gauntlet thrown at the feet of the viewer. The movie is set primarily in Waco, Texas during the 1950s, and focuses its attention on the working-class O’Brien family. There is no conventional narrative; there isn’t even dialogue in the traditional sense. When the characters do talk, we are able to hear them as though from a different plane of existence, eavesdropping on their conversation. Indeed, the entire story feels viewed through a kind of ethereal prism. We bear witness to a familial loss, and the subsequent search for answers in a life not compelled to heed the call for understanding.
Soon after we learn of the tragedy, the movie morphs into a confounding yet wondrous amalgam of visual imagery that denotes the creation of the universe. Images that run the gamut from the multiplying of amoebae to the explosion of stars to the predatory instincts of prehistoric creatures to the infancy of primal sea life to the planets coming into alignment. The comparisons to Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" are understandable.
The aforementioned sequence extends well into the film's duration, challenging the viewer to reflect and ponder rather than grasp. From there, the story shifts back to Waco, and focuses on the struggle of young Jack O'Brien (Hunter McCracken, in a mesmerizing debut performance) as he attempts to find meaning and comfort somewhere between the diametrical philosophies imparted by his parents...
His mother (Jessica Chastain) teaches the children to love all... every blade of grass, every drop of rain, every breath of air. She prefers the way of Grace over Nature. Grace, we hear her say "...doesn't try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries." Nature, by contrast, "...only wants to please itself. Get others to please it, too. Like to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining around it."
His father (Brad Pitt) operates from a different perspective. Mr. O'Brien is a hardworking, well-meaning disciplinarian who is a little too cognizant of life's iniquities. ("The world lives by trickery," he lectures his sons at one point. "You want to succeed, you can't be too good.") He becomes increasingly abusive as he bears witness to his lifelong ambitions falling into obscurity. As young Jack struggles to find understanding between the extremes, the film intercuts to scenes years later with Sean Penn in the role of older Jack, still battling to come to terms with those years of adolescent angst. The scenes with Penn are the weakest in the movie. I didn't find them detrimental so much as superfluous. They probably could have been cut without losing much impact.
The movie has plenty of detractors, and the biggest complaint from their quarter seems to be that critics uniformly praise the film without conveying an understanding of its meaning or even being able to articulate why they liked it. This misses the point. It's not about following the elite mass of critical praise; it's about reserving judgment of the presentation before allowing the effect to take hold. One thing I knew as I was watching the movie was that I wasn't going to write a word immediately following the screening. That would be doing myself a disservice. If a film wants me to reflect, I'm going to answer that call.
So what did I, an online reviewer of modest intelligence, take away from it? Simply put, that what defines us is our relationships... with others, with nature, with our spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof). The film accomplishes this not by dissecting the relationships, but building them up from scratch. From images of a father tenderly holding his infant son's foot to scenes of tough parental love to moments of trust between brothers and how insecurity can betray that trust. (When I think back on my own childhood, the painful memories that cut deepest don't involve the multitude of times I was victimized, but those rare occurrences when I actually had power and influence over the vulnerable, but was too self-loathing to make the right decision resulting in the infliction of pain on the emotionally dependent. Their cries of anguish echo further from the core of my memory than my own ever could.)
I make no promises here. You may get nothing from the experience. Many don't. It has been denounced in some circles as grossly pretentious. I, for one, found the experience enthralling. By forcing the viewer to contemplate his or her own existence, the film offers a gift. For me, it was a gift of reflection on my life... my triumphs and mistakes, my sorrows, the evolution of my love for family and friends. On what has transpired, what is yet to come, and what awaits me in the afterlife. Perhaps even the sublime notion of catapulting back in time, strolling into my childhood backyard, encountering myself as an innocent child playing with his favorite toy; being able to pick him up, tell him everything is going to be okay and it's a hell of a life you have in store. To dismiss Malick's efforts here as pretentious drivel would be denying myself that gift. Why would I do that?
* * * * out of * * * * stars
