THE TREE OF LIFE
July 2011
After a first viewing, I thought I knew a thing or two about Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life, which I posted on this site as an initial effort. But on Friday 22 July I saw it again, and learnt a whole lot more. I've therefore added some ‘second thoughts’:
1 Great thing: the genesis sequence that comes after the initial impulse to the narrative marked by the news of the death of the son. In effect, this is as audacious a flashback as the flashforward in Kubrick's 2001: a space odyssey of the bone thrown in the air turning into a spaceship. Tree of Life treats us to an extraordinary sequence of images showing deep space, nebulas, the formation of stars and planets, volcanic creation, steam clouds, amoebic forms, DNA strings, first life. I thought that this was the most psychedelic moment in cinema since 2001. And in this context let us honour the cosmic cinema of Jordan Belson [Allures, Re-entry, Phenomena, Samadhi, Momentum, made between 1961 and 1969], fore-running both Kubrick and Malick. I am sure that Malick must be familiar with this work.
2 Good thing: the film's ambition to explore the polarity between Grace and Nature in the context of a wondrous universe. Nature is the cruel human stuff: how we survive, how we fail to survive. Grace is how we go beyond survival by following the law of love.
3 Bad thing: the compassionate dinosaur in the genesis sequence – animals just don't have human feelings.
4 Puzzling thing: which of the two sons dies at the age of 19? Is it the eldest or the second eldest? The film is not clear on this point, at least on a first viewing – and it ought to be. The film magazine, ‘Sight and Sound’ is quite clear: it is the second son who dies young. But I’m puzzled as to where they got this information.
Second thought: When I watched it a second time, knowing it is the second son who dies, there were considerable gains in understanding the flow of the film, so that particular incidents disclosed a significance previously unnoticed, and the dynamics of the ending were better revealed.
Oh yes – Jonathan Livingston Seagull (the human soul flying freely as a seagull) makes an unwanted guest appearance in the final sequence. Malick flirts with cliché through the film but largely avoids it; in the image of the seagull he succumbs.
Second thought: On a second viewing, the absorption experienced in watching the film up to the point where it climaxes in reconciliation, liberation even, carried me through the last quarter of an hour including the seagull and the sunflower. However, I wish it had been shorter, because a tighter ending would have made even more of an impact.
Second thought: A second viewing gives the lie to this criticism. The centre of the film, the 85 minutes narrating the life of the family in their suburban house in Waco up to the point where they have to leave it, is precisely articulated in the images. Telling incident follows telling incident with cumulative power.
Second thought: The Director of Photography, Emmanuel Lubezki [interview in ‘Sight and Sound’ July 2011] says that maybe one million feet of film was shot to make a 2¼-hour film. I can't work out how much viewing time a million feet takes, but I reckon it is very substantial. Answers on an e-mail please to cawkwell200@gmail.com.
A further point is that the use of natural light sheds a glow over the film which I found captivating – the sheer pleasure of the visual.
Second thought: The film is in four parts, shifting through time and space:
· the delivery of the telegram giving news of the second son's death (20 min)
· the O’Brien family’s first fifteen or so years (85 min)
· reconciliation / redemption / liberation (15 min)
The third part, as argued in point 8 above, has cumulative power in the way it builds tension in the relation between father and eldest son. Conventionally, this would climax in some terrible way, and our response to the film may derive in part from feeling cheated that this does not happen. Here catharsis is achieved not in some tragic outcome but in the final sequence, but a family drama that does not end in death, or in the uncovering of some terrible secret or existentialist hatred, feels alien to us.
Second thought: The actual words used in the film are (I think): "Grace doesn't try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked."
Further thought: Here’s a polemical thing. There is a disobliging review of the film in the ‘London Review of Books’ [vol. 33, number 15, 28 July 2011], and it occurred to me that if you watch a film without taking pleasure in images almost for their own sake, then fine, don’t watch it, walk out of the cinema – but don’t then write a review. For example, when Jack as a boy is embroiled in the frog and rocket incident, we see him as he listens sheepishly while his mother tells him never to do it again; Malick follows this with a shot looking out the front door of Jack dancing as it were down the front steps into the garden. This is psychologically acute, I believe, because Jack doing this trick displaces his having to face up to what he’s done, but also there is Malick’s pleasure in the sight of Jack dancing down the steps, of his shadow on the steps. This is a subtle use of narrative, and Malick deliberately refrains from using words to elucidate the drama – and if you have trouble with that, should you be reviewing this film?
© Tim Cawkwell 2011
