Showing posts with label Terrence Malick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Terrence Malick. Show all posts

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Malick's latest


HitFix In Contention

Review: 'To the Wonder' is Terrence Malick's typically enchanted Tree of Love

Heartfelt song to personal and spiritual intimacy proves predictably divisive

VENICE -- Stop the presses: There's been booing at a screening of the new Terrence Malick film. Whether they came from the same small-but-loud faction of supposed journalists who vocally expressed their displeasure at "The Tree of Life" in Cannes last year, or a fresh batch of doubters, such jeers are unusual for films that feature no purported moral transgressions, nor any sheer ineptitude of craft. (Films aren't booed at festivals simply for being bad, you know: a year ago, Madonna's "W.E." heard not a one.)
Rather, Malick is one of the few senior A-list filmmakers who can get razzed in this fashion for being too sincere, too lyrical, too himself. And he is all of those things, to both bewitching and bemusing effect, in "To the Wonder," a follow-up to "The Tree of Life" in more senses than mere proximity. With not even 16 months separating their premieres, they are by far the nearest-born works in a filmography otherwise thick with white space, underlining the impression of two sister films: both iridescently pictorial, ambiguously self-focused and inclined to lure critics into terms they should normally feel self-conscious about using. "Tone poem." "Meditation." "Elegy." "Prayer." Ghastly words when abused, the lot of them. Malick's cinema somehow wears them well.
So why, given this tonal and textual consistency, did I feel admiringly detached from "The Tree of Life," finding its explosion of formal beauty a discontinuous front for its unnourished human expressions, but far more stimulated and moved by his latest? "To the Wonder" is structurally a more modest, more linear film than "Tree" -- no dinosaurs here, folks, though fans of sea turtles should prick up their ears -- but it's no less vulnerable to charges of excessive preciosity, particularly from those whose secularity applies to churches beyond the House of Malick.
Though not evangelical, "Tree" was unapologetically steeped in the director's Christianity, its hushed negotiation of nature and grace culminating in a rapt celebration of the afterlife. The more earthbound "Wonder" isn't as fixated on such unknowables, but it's no less faith-based, and not just in the secondary presence of Javier Bardem as a Catholic priest  struggling to bring comfort to an economically famished Oklahoman community.
Its lean primary narrative, too, amounts to an investigation of sin, forgiveness and devotion in the domestic space, as Midwest engineer Neil (Ben Affleck) and his French lover Marina (Olga Kurylenko) struggle to build a moral foundation for their relationship, and subsequent marriage, on the unwelcoming, wind-blown plains of his home turf. (The "Wonder" of the title is the French island of Mont St. Michel, where the couple are shown frolicking in halcyon days.) At different stages of the protracted breakup, both fall prey to other people's arms: Marina, fleetingly, with a street acquaintance at an Econo Lodge; Neil, with more lasting and troubling impact, to former high-school flame Jane (Rachel McAdams).
Seemingly inspired by the dissolution of the director's own second marriage in the 1980s, the story forms a less far-reaching basis for spiritual investigation than its predecessor's classical, era-hopping war between father and son, but there's dramatic satisfaction in watching these otherwise opaque characters emerge through their tussles with more contained moral decisions and consequences: it's the rare film that feels more affecting for the stakes being slightly smaller. Though Malick's requisite rolling landscapes and infinite bruise-colored skies are still very much present and correct (Emmanuel Lubezki devotees should prepare for, well, the wonder), it's the director's most intimate film since 1978's "Days of Heaven," as well as his most gaspingly romantic. If the title "Tree of Life" loftily bracketed a branching journey through mortality and beyond, this is his Tree of Love.
"Everything's so beautiful here!" cries Marina's pre-teen daughter from a previous liaison, as the makeshift family wheels its way through a cavernous, hard-lit supermarket. The line prompts one of the few laughs ever likely to be heard during a Terrence Malick film, but it's indicative of the earnest enchantment coursing through "Wonder"'s veins that he and Lubezki themselves seek to beautify everything in this onscreen environment: the first fully contemporary setting of his career, and one even more grayishly forbidding than that explored in his 1974 debut "Badlands."
As befits the title, everything is a gaze-demanding spectacle in this simple world, be it minutiae like the shadow-box theater created by a gaudy chandelier in an underlit corridor and the technicolor tangle of real-life tattoos on Affleck's biceps, or more extravagantly surreal flourishes like the stormy herd of bison closing in on Affleck and Kurylenko as they embrace in a wheaten field. Speaking of which, we hardly need reminding at this point that no one shoots swaying expanses of grass like Malick -- and Lubezki's further virtuosic-yet-specific wizardry here marks a happy extension of their own professional romance. (Chalk up one non-negotiable Oscar nomination for a film that looks unlikely to be garlanded as generously as "The Tree of Life.")
Like Malick's customary accompanying swirl of highly recognizable classical scoring -- selected composers this time range from Tchaikovsky to Shostakovich to Arvo Part, with young Kiwi-born, Texas-based composer Hanan Townshend doing the bridging work -- this super-aestheticized approach is bound to aggravate as many as it enthralls, but in a film dedicated to ideal but elusive forms of love, it feels thematically grounded. Ditto the casting: with their vocal contributions limited to the same strain of hushed, ecstatic voiceover ("I open my eyes... I melt into the eternal light," and so on) delivered predominantly by Jessica Chastain in "The Tree of Life," the four stars aren't performers so much as motifs.
One could wonder why a director as famously indifferent to actors (and commerce) as Malick -- Rachel Weisz's role, incidentally, has been given the old Adrien Brody heave-ho here -- continues to hire such big-name actors. (You might think he of all directors would be in favor of non-pro casts.) The combined attractiveness of this star quartet runs the risk of making the film's least integrated or resonant sequences -- those in which Bardem wearily calls on all manner of buck-toothed, poverty-stricken local parishioners -- the teeniest bit condescending to boot. Even this faint absurdity, however, seems parcelled up in Malick's restless, tender, unfashionable quest for beauty in its highest physical and spiritual forms. Never, to crib a line from "A Clockwork Orange," has a Terrence Malick film felt more like gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Brad on Malick

Brad Pitt talks about Terrence Malick and The Tree of Life

What happened when Hollywood's most photographed actor teamed up with Terrence Malick, its most reclusive and paparazzi-shy director? Brad Pitt tells all



guardian.co.uk,

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That Pitt's real family were staying close by also presented complications. He and Angelina Jolie take it in turns to look after the family (at that stage four children; Jolie was pregnant with twins) while the other works, and they travel as a unit. But where Pitt and Jolie go, legions of paparazzi follow. For a recluse such as Malick, it's a different world – possibly his definition of hell. "It was terribly, terribly uncomfortable for him," Pitt admits, recalling the time a photographer ambushed them together at a local restaurant. Does he envy Malick's well-maintained privacy? "Sure I do! He gets to just make things. It took me a good decade of hiding in my house and not going outside to even, like, get my arms around this idea of celebrity, where suddenly people are looking for you to pick your nose or get a shot of you kissing some woman. It's a very discombobulating thing. But Angie and I have got it down pretty well. We have to hide behind some walls, but we're good."

On a theological level, Pitt and Malick were also in different worlds. As its title suggests, The Tree of Life is shot through with biblical, or at least spiritual, symbolism. It begins with a quote from the Book of Job and ends with what could be construed as some form of rapture or afterlife, with much musing on nature, grace and God in between. Would Pitt describe his own upbringing as religious? "Are you kidding me? I grew up in the fuckin' buckle of the Bible Belt!" He replies. "Terry and I, we have our areas where we meet and we have our respectful disagreements. He sees God in science and science in God, and I respect that. But this idea of an all-powerful, watching being that's controlling our moves and giving us a chance to say he's the greatest so we get into some eternal heaven – that just doesn't work for me, man. I got a real problem with it. I see the value of religion and what it offers to people as a cushion and I don't want to step on that. On the other hand, I've seen where I grew up how it becomes separatist, and I get quite aggravated and antagonistic. I see religion more as a truck stop on your way to figuring out who you are."

The Tree of Life is probably too unconventional to reach audiences in America's Christian heartland, but it would be interesting to see what they would make of it. They could find little to object to in its tone and content, but it is led by two of the country's most notorious "Hollywood liberals": Pitt and Sean Penn, both of whom seem to be red rags to the Christian right (among other causes, Pitt has campaigned for same-sex marriage, and once declared that he and Jolie would not marry until gay couples were allowed to). Alongside the biblical overtones, The Tree of Life also advances a Darwinist history of creation. The movie could give churchgoers a serious headache. But like Malick, Pitt has no time for critics of the movie – and there are many. It was both booed and applauded at Cannes.

Pitt has moved on. His and Jolie's twins were born straight after the movie had been shot – "I remember because we were thinking up names during the shoot" – then he went on to Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds. He's currently shooting the action thriller World War Z. "I like extremes. A little highbrow, a little lowbrow." He talks of wanting to pursue his love of architecture, but his time working with Malick seems to have stayed with him, and not just because he's still operating as the director's media ambassador. It seems to have brought his own beliefs into sharper focus: "Watching the film, and I've seen many cuts, I'm a guy who fights the idea of heaven but what I do respect is that there is a greater power than anything we understand, and for me the film is about that. Perhaps we don't need these religious concoctions to pillow the fear of death. Just the fact that there is an unknown, and something greater, can bring a feeling of peace. That's enough for me."

Friday, April 22, 2011

Terrence Malick: Hollywood’s poet returns

With Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life – only his fifth film in 38 years – about to open, Tim Robey marvels at the mystique that surrounds this reclusive US director.

7:00AM BST 09 Apr 2011

Last week it was announced that Terrence Malick’s new film The Tree of Life will open in Britain next month, on May 4.

One can only imagine the shock among Cannes Film Festival organisers, who had been expecting to welcome stars Brad Pitt and Sean Penn to the Croisette for the world premiere a week later. The news won’t have pleased other distributors handling the film’s global rollout, either. I suspect we haven’t heard the end of this saga.

Somehow, among the world’s leading film-makers, only Malick could have inspired such mayhem. There’s no other director alive whose work is the object of such awestruck and jittery anticipation, fuelled by the long wait his devotees must endure as he pieces each new offering together.

By Malick’s standards, the period that has elapsed since his last film, 2005’s underseen Pocahontas epic The New World, is little longer than the blink of an eye – his 20-year absence between Days of Heaven (1978) and The Thin Red Line (1998) is the stuff an entire legend is built on. Still, when you bear in mind that shooting for The Tree of Life began in early 2008, and the film was first tipped for release during in 2009, the delay has been torture enough.

What’s more, Malick has supposedly already finished shooting his next project, tentatively entitled The Burial, with Ben Affleck, Rachel McAdams, Rachel Weisz and Javier Bardem in key roles. At his current work rate, we can expect to feast our eyes on that one some time around 2017.

Partly because of his devotion to a meticulous, artisanal approach to film-making, and partly because of the sheer secrecy in which his projects are enshrouded, a Malick film is more than an event – it has the religious quality of an ecstatic unveiling.

He has only four films under his belt, with two still to be assessed, but some argue he has yet to make anything less than a masterpiece. The sheer quality of filmography places him in cinema’s very select perfect-achievers’ club, up there with Jean Vigo (L’Atalante, Zéro de Conduite) and Charles Laughton (The Night of the Hunter), each of whom had far shorter-lived directorial careers.

The myth of Malick extends back even before his first feature, Badlands (1973), which was hailed as the greatest debut by an American director since Citizen Kane. He was born on November 30 1943, either in Ottawa, Illinois, or Waco, Texas, depending on which sources you believe.

A second-generation Assyrian, he grew up working on oilfields before graduating from St Stephen’s Episcopal School in Austin, studying philosophy at Harvard under musician-turned-thinker Stanley Cavell, and then continuing as a Rhodes scholar at Magdalen College, Oxford.

The tenets of 20th-century philosophy inform Malick’s cinema more than anything else – certainly more than other people’s movies. Both calm and troubled, his sensibility is so unusual in a Hollywood context as to make his films as exotic as tropical birds; indeed, ornithology plays a more integral role in his work than any jumped-up editing tricks or nods to Hitchcock.

It can be said with cast-iron certainty that he is the only man to have both coaxed Colin Farrell into giving his subtlest film performance (in The New World) and also published a translation of Heidegger’s The Essence of Reasons (in 1969). It’s Malick’s esotericism, wedded to a near-impenetrable reclusiveness, which lends his work such tantalising mystique.

How did he end up in film-making at all? After stints of journalism and teaching, he made good contacts at the American Film Institute, leading to jobs doctoring scripts in Hollywood. These are the highly prized, well-paid gigs for the industry’s most bankable writers.

It’s another mysterious Malickian contradiction that this intellectual giant of the cinema has paid the rent with this most lucrative form of hackwork. Indeed, the invisible hand Malick has had on other directors’ films has been a rumoured constant throughout his career.

He has the writing credit on Stuart Rosenberg’s crime Western Pocket Money (1972) and – these are the most persistent theories – is said to have written early drafts of both Dirty Harry (1971) and the Jerry Lee Lewis biopic Great Balls of Fire! (1989).

On set, his reputation for prickly perfectionism and mercurial inspiration rivals that of Stanley Kubrick – he’s famously capable of departing from script and shooting schedule to chase a sunset, capture grass swaying in the wind or document parrots for half a day, leaving the actors to sit around in their trailers, waiting for their moment.

He feels his way into a film and through it, to the bitter end of the editing process, perusing endless reels. Few directors truly “find a film in the edit” like Malick. The stone-cold depiction of a true-crime murder spree in Badlands perhaps stands as his most taut and disciplined piece of storytelling, thanks to the economy its small budget imposed.

Story, though, is frequently the last thing on his mind. His quest for a poetic cinema, threatening to cast off narrative moorings altogether, has aggravated mainstream critics as often as it has earned him disciples.

When you consider why actors still queue up to work with him, you have to weigh the facts. It’s not an easy ride: his fights with Richard Gere, who played an itinerant turn-of-the-century labourer in the astonishingly beautiful Days of Heaven, were notorious even before its release.

And yet look at the performances he gets – Martin Sheen is quite something in Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, but not half as good as he is as restless greaser Kit in Badlands, wearing the character’s gangly, careless bravado like well-worn jeans. Sissy Spacek gives Malick credit for plucking her from obscurity and moulding her into the actress she became. Her narration as Holly, Sheen’s teenage moll, is a marvel of eerie affectlessness, a feat also pulled off by Linda Manz, who plays Gere’s younger sister in Days of Heaven.

The success of these first two films established Malick as an important and original artist at a time when Hollywood was unusually interested in the breed. Days of Heaven, even so, had been a nightmare. Malick and cinematographer Nestor Almendros insisted on shooting most of the film in the 25 minutes before sunset, which gives the movie its slanting light and evanescent glow, and won it the Best Cinematography Oscar, but drove it considerably over schedule and budget.

One thousand locusts had to be shipped in to the Alberta prairie, while peanut shells, dropped from helicopters simulated the big swarm. The editing process, setting the pattern that still persists, took two years to complete.

What Malick got up to in the next two decades is anyone’s guess. There was a project called Q, about the origins of life, which it seems The Tree of Life has now become. The first attempt was abandoned in 1983, after much effort and expense spent photographing jellyfish around the Great Barrier Reef and ice shelves breaking off in the Arctic Circle. Suffice to say that the dialogue-free screenplay he would send to Paramount filled them with more confusion than confidence.

He moved to Paris. He was offered an adaptation of D M Thomas’s famously unfilmed Holocaust novel The White Hotel in 1989, but turned it down. He tinkered away on abandoned projects, toying with Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer, Larry McMurtry’s The Desert Rose and a stage version of Mizoguchi’s great Japanese samurai tragedy Sansho the Bailiff. In between, he notched up the most famously prolonged wilderness period in Hollywood history.

Malick’s comeback, The Thin Red Line, took shape as his most monumental endeavour yet, and was received by the industry with something between hearty applause and vague bewilderment – nominated for seven Oscars, it won none.

Overshadowed by Saving Private Ryan the same year, this rangily ambitious South Pacific war poem happens to be this writer’s favourite film, but I doubt the same could be said for Adrien Brody, who thought he had the main role until he saw it, and realised that he was the ultimate victim of Malick’s scissor-happy assembly methods. In the final cut he has about five minutes of screen time. There are trees in the film as prominent as he is now.

Among the famous names Malick had cast to help Fox bankroll the film, many others (Gary Oldman, Mickey Rourke, Viggo Mortensen) found their contributions expunged altogether. Though Malick’s original six-hour version has never been made public, the three-hour cut is still majestic and profound as a statement on man’s destruction of his earthly paradise.

One of the reasons our wait for The Tree of Life has been bearable is the hope that it will help Malick bypass the messy reception of his last release, The New World, which was screened to critics in a rush before he was entirely finished editing, then recut by a further 15 minutes for its theatrical release.

Speculation about the new film is rife, fuelled by trailers and posters that play up its abstract gorgeousness and make the plot – spanning decades in the lives of a Midwestern family, with Pitt as Penn’s father – hard to discern. It appears to be about life, death, the galaxy, the ocean, jungle canopies – and dinosaurs. Everything, in other words.

Whatever Malick has pulled off this time, his grand ambition and uncompromising methods continue to make him one of a kind, a director worth following to the ends of the earth, which is very often just where he wants to take us.

  • The Tree of Life is out on May 4


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The Tree Of Life: Vision Quest
The visual effects team behind Terrence Malick's long-awaited cinematic return talk exclusively to LWLies about the making of the film.