Monthly Film Challenge Part 6: The Tree of Life (2011)

Many film critics hailed Terrence Malick’s ambitious fifth feature, The Tree of Life, as a masterpiece at Cannes, where it won the Palme D’Or. But the film was highly divisive since its first screening, leading to a major backlash. When audiences got a hold of it, there was very little fence sitting with people either loving it or hating it. It is a film that has been endlessly argued over, in terms of both its quality and its meaning. It is also a film that is particularly hard to be objective about. Your tolerance or intolerance of it will ultimately act as a reflection on how and why you love cinema.

There is very little that can be said definitively about The Tree of Life, and any pieces written on the film may be more telling of the interests of the writer as opposed to the qualities of the film. Terrence Malick presents a clear dichotomy between “the way of nature and the way of grace” in the first line of the film, but from there on the film is left remarkably open to interpretation. Forgetting any pretence at objectivity then, for me, The Tree of Life is really about two different things, one massive and wide-ranging and the other, in comparison, highly specific. It is about life, the universe and everything, but also it is about Jack’s (Hunter McCracken) maturation from childhood to adulthood via puberty. The former encompasses a huge amount, from the place of human beings in the world to an examination of the need for compassion in spite of a fiercely natural world. We move from parents grieving over the death of a son (a hint of the specific to come) to the creation of the world, the beginning of life on earth and finally the joy of reproduction. The family is seen in a highly positive light, a cocoon against the ruthless competition that remains prevalent in many guises throughout the earth’s lifespan – the grace of the family versus the brutal realities of nature. It suggests the rather insignificant place that humans hold in the grand scheme of things, but gives hope. The human way of life may be meaningless, but the little things are what matters. It is not an original message, in fact it may seem rather conservative but this ceases to matter since the film’s aesthetics are entirely unique (to Malick’s cinema at least) and absolutely breathtaking. These preoccupations allow for a film that is majestic, beautiful and really rather moving. In a sense, it is Malick’s masterpiece.

With the birth of Jack, the film becomes more specific, less meta-physical, though the bridge between the birth of the universe and the birth of Jack is surprisingly seamless. The film now meditates on the act of growing up, from difficulties with parents to a burgeoning sexuality to the awareness and acceptance of difference. Here also, in the figures of Jack’s parents (Jessica Chastain and Brad Pitt), we see how the world works and the grace-nature dichotomy comes to fruition. The family becomes less a cocoon than a synecdoche of the world – full of dissatisfaction and rivalry, but also friendship and love. With this, the film successfully comes full circle, its two strains – the universal and the familial – coming together under the same themes, presented big and small.

However, having said all of this, the film’s greatest achievement is its lyricism. The Tree of Life is a visual and poetic film, which succeeds primarily thanks to the sheer beauty of its images, their marriage with music and the meaning through montage. The brilliance of The Tree of Life is not accurately expressed through its plot, or through an analysis of its themes – the above cannot take in the sombre modern-day scenes with the older Jack (Sean Penn), as interesting as it is, or the admittedly awkward impressionistic ending. What makes the film so powerful is that, by watching it, you find out something about yourself based on your reaction to what happens onscreen, whether you laugh out loud or get a lump in the throat. This may sound crude (and it is), but The Tree of Life is a film that can stun and move you while driving your best friend out of their mind with boredom. The Tree of Life is not as much a challenge to some people as it is for others, and working out why it worked or didn’t work for you might just tell you something about how you watch films and, maybe, how you see life.

The Tree of Life is a meditation, rather than a story. As a result, it is a unique and fascinating film that rewards multiple viewing. It is a film that is unashamedly, gloriously arty, if not particularly profound then remarkably beautiful and a fascinating example of the expressive potential of the language of cinema. Malick's images are beautiful, especially when considered alongside the editing and the brilliant music chosen to accompany them. There is another thing that is fresh and brilliant about The Tree of Life that has not really been touched on. It is a film about life and love and grace and nature made with ambition and an eye for beauty, but it is also extremely brave. Not politically brave, but artistically brave because it lays itself bare, dares you to laugh and succeeds in making you see and think about the world in ways that you never have before, all by virtue of one of the film’s most powerful attributes: its fearless honesty.

See the original, inaccurate review from the film's release in 2011 as an indication how one's opinion can change here.

La Jetee

Un Chien Andalou

The Seventh Continent

F For Fake
La Chinoise

REVIEW: The Tree of Life (2011)

  Many film critics hailed Terence Malick’s ambitious fifth feature, The Tree of Life, as a masterpiece at Cannes, where it won the Palme D’Or. The film then went on to have a major backlash, and then a clear division between lovers and haters. It is a film that has been endlessly argued over, in terms of both its quality and its meaning. It is also a film that is particularly hard to be objective about. Your tolerance or intolerance of it will be a personal choice.

  For me, The Tree of Life is really two films of about equal length, one about life, the universe and everything and the other about Jack’s (Hunter McCracken) maturation from childhood to adulthood via puberty. The first film is a lyrical film about the place of human beings in the world and an examination of the need for compassion in spite of a fiercely natural world. This film is majestic, beautiful and really rather moving. In a sense, it is Malick’s masterpiece. We move from the feeling of dislocation and lose that comes with being an adult in a materialistic society to the creation of the world, the beginning of life on earth and finally the joy of reproduction. The family is seen in a highly positive light, a cocoon against the ruthless competition that remains prevalent in many guises throughout the earth’s lifespan. It suggests the rather insignificant place that humans hold in the grand scheme of things, but gives hope. The human way of life may be meaningless, but the little things are what matters. It is not an original message, but the film presents its idea brilliantly, using images to suggest ideas rather than to advance narrative cause and effect.

  However, the film soon shifts its attention to a similarly, though less successfully, lyrical portrait of the troubles that come with growing up. The film takes on new concerns and preoccupations to such an extent that the only signifier that it is the same film as the fact that it has the same actors playing the same parts. In this second film we follow young Jack as he experiences a sexual awakening, peer pressure from friends and intolerance from his domineering father (Brad Pitt). The family becomes less a cocoon than a site of dissatisfaction and rivalry. It is such a drastic shift in tone that the film never really recovers and had the two films been released separately, critics would argue that Malick was actively disagreeing with himself.

  Unfortunately, the second film is less original and a lot less exciting. Taken together, the two films tear each other apart and the main reaction once the film ends is one of extreme disappointment, not least because the last five minutes are something of a misstep. What makes the first film nearly a masterpiece is that, by watching it, you find out something about yourself based on your reaction to what happens onscreen, whether you laugh out loud or get a lump in the throat. With the second film, there is less room to manoeuvre. Malick becomes more blunt, more opinionated and no longer leaves the film open to whatever its audience might want to take out of it. While the first film allows you to see and feel what you will (whether positive or negative, optimistic or pessimistic), the second film is more of an obviously didactic work.

  The film is entirely a visual work, one that lets the images move the film forward, rather than any plot points or dialogue. It is a meditation, rather than a story. Whether it is a good or great film may remain undecided, it is a breath of fresh air that such an ambitious film can be made in this day and age. After all, not every film should fit into a box designated by accountants in Hollywood. Some films can and should be unashamedly arty, whether profound or pretentious. It is a film of ideas in which some work better than others and the quality of the film, as well as its message, is, refreshingly, entirely up to you.