Big Screen Peter: The Tree of Life

Editor’s note: Peter Lewis has agreed to use whatever it is you call his writing style to provide some measure of analysis to those folks who still go to a theater to see a movie.

review by Peter Lewis

“The Tree of Life,” a new film by legendary director Terrence Malick, is unlike any other movie you’ve seen. That’s not necessarily praise or critique, just a simple statement that seeks to highlight the singularity of Malick’s creation. (The movie is not now showing in the Fort Smith area.)

After making two films in the 1970s (“Badlands” and “Days of Heaven”), Malick “disappeared” from cinema for the next 20 years before resurfacing with the excellent war piece, “The Thin Red Line.” Seven years later Malick released “The New World,” a visually striking romantic interpretation of the original Jamestown colony. All of these films stand on their own as some of the best in American cinematic history, but none quite approach the audacious vision of “Tree of Life.”

Malick seeks to synthesize the human experience — hell, the whole of human history — by juxtaposing the story of one 1950s family with strikingly beautiful images of our world. It’s a staggering endeavor, both beautiful and ponderous. Even now, as I type out these words I’m not quite certain I’ve been able to wrap my head around the sheer immensity of the film. I’m not quite certain I’ve understood the beautiful, pleading undertones.I am, however, damned certain that “Tree of Life” is one of the finest films you can see on this earth.

The narrative focus is on a family of five in circa 1950s Texas. It’s also overwhelmingly male, illustrating the slippery, elusive nature of morality from the innocent perspective of Jack, the eldest of three male children of Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien (Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain respectively). While Pitt is a fierce, strong-willed presence throughout the film, Chastain is featured as nothing more than a beatific mother. But that’s how most boys see their mother, so in a sense it fits the bill.

Hunter McCracken, however, is a true revelation as the young Jack. He possesses a unmistakable fierceness around his eyes that often belies not only his inner torment but an emotional tenderness as well. In short, he somehow encapsulates the warring forces of both parents, the “way of nature” and the “way of grace.”

Fathers often seek to foster their aspirations for their children with rules of behavior, chores and the like. Unfortunately, the veil of childhood precludes their sons from viewing the intentions behind these generally burdensome expectations.

In his father’s rules, Jack sees hypocrisy and bucks against it with seething resentment. We watch as the simplicity of his childhood gives way to the clouded incomprehension of adolescence. As he grapples with the disparity between the high expectations placed on him and his father’s own behavior, the rage and hatred build. Yet, Jack understands his unescapable reality: he is his father’s son.

Despite having a specific set and scope, “The Tree of Life” is undeniably universal. Yes, there are flaws. The film is certainly ponderous; it is slightly overbearing in its pomposity.

However, there is no escaping the unmistakable and converse truth: More than any other film, “The Tree of Life” encapsulates the unconscionable insignificance of our experience and the simultaneous paradox of its resonant emotional weight.

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