Conversations with God

How is that I know precisely what “The Tree of Life” is about, yet I cannot bring myself to explain it? I am not simply talking about the plot of the film, but about the thematic density the material presents. That is the wonder of Terrence Malick’s latest film: it covers the broad, the deep, the archetypal and the collective while exploring the intricacies of family life. That a film like “The Tree of Life” gets made at all in a time where marketing often determines a film’s fate and tired romances and adventures clutter the screen, is a miracle. That the film is as momentous as it is, another.

I had reason to doubt Malick. He returned to filmmaking after a long absence with the brilliant “The Thin Red Line” (1998), followed by the self-indulgent huffing and puffing of “The New World” (2002). Then there’s the matter of loaded expectations: “Tree” won the Palm d’Or earlier this year at Cannes, and after all, this is the legendary and reclusive auteur Malick we’re talking about. In the United States, where many patrons walked out of “Tree of Life” frustrated and annoyed (not necessarily waiting for it to finish), some theatre chains put up signs explaining that not all movies are the same.

Then the film happened to me, and surely Malick is a gift to the world.

He is a poet, philosopher, theologian, and one of the best filmmakers around. The film is breath-taking and visionary. “Tree of Life” is the organic successor to “Line”, taking its exploration of consciousness and one’s awareness of oneself in the world to dizzying heights that invoke the personal and the epic. It guides you to revisit and reconsider your life as Malick’s images of being lay a framework not only of his own inward living, but of the possibilities of such living for oneself. The film stars Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain as the parents of three young boys; she is a caring mother, while he is often hard on his sons, sometimes seeming to want an audience and not so much a family. Sean Penn, whose face gets more expressive with each film he does, co-stars as a pivotal character that has almost no dialogue. All the actors are superb, with the child actors deserving a special mention.

Do not be tempted to reduce this film to a family drama. Malick here revisits his own childhood, conflicts and challenges, but it is far removed from the kind of needy “emotional exorcism” that filmmakers often commit. Malick is both too intelligent and too sensitive and intuitive for that, and the story he tells is visually, thematically and spiritually complex without calling attention to itself. I am always amazed at how Malick manages to suggest perception and subjectivity in his films, especially this one; how incredible is it that he makes another’s thoughts and feelings seem so much like your own?

Here is a film about creation, fathers, mothers, sons, belief and the threat of succumbing to the world, and it is a masterpiece. How often do I have the opportunity to refer to a film as flawless? So often we are willing to settle for less, for movies that barely get the basics right but can’t be bothered with much of anything else. “Tree of Life” sours the taste of those films, their essential futility, with its perfection. It is one of the best films I have ever seen.

Uxbal's world

 

Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu is an accomplished filmmaker following the international acclaim not only for his debut "Amores Perros" but also his Oscar nominated "Babel". Inarritu is one of a few Mexican filmmakers who have managed to cross over into American film with considerable success, much like surrealist storyteller Guillermo del Toro. Whereas Del Toro uses fantasy, symbols and the supernatural to comment on human concerns – consider the unexpected gravitas of Del Toro’s fairy tale "Pan’s Labyrinth" – Inarritu grounds his characters in worlds that are recognisably real, sometimes overwhelmingly so, as if their walls and weight bear down upon the viewer.

Inarritu’s new film "Biutiful"continues and deepens the filmmaker’s thematic interest in the struggles of communication. Starring Javier Bardem in an Oscar nominated performance, "Biutiful" tells the story of Uxbal, a Barcelonian urbanite who manages to keep his family financially afloat through his various illicit dealings which includes the sale of pirated goods. His wife Marambra (Maricel Alvarez) is bipolar and what is left of their relationship is strained at best; he has a far better relationship with his children Ana (Hanaa Bouchaib) and Mateo (Guillermo Estrella). Uxbal’s brother Tito (Eduard Fernandez) is no saint himself, and is yet another adult with whom Uxbal has a troubled and troubling relationship. Uxbal has a gift, though: he can communicate with the recently departed, the dead whose souls have remained for the time being, and relay messages to their loved ones.

All of the above events and relationships are informed by something that only Uxbal himself and the audience know: Uxbal has terminal cancer, and it is only a matter of time before he dies. It is this thought, this imminent threat of not being there to provide for his children, that informs much of his choices and behaviour, as misguided as some of it might be.

For the first time, Inarritu has made a film that focuses almost exclusively on a single protagonist. Unlike his previous efforts, "Biutiful" unfolds in a linear, chronological manner. While this film might be narratively more accessible since we are aligned with the single main character from the start of the film, "Biutiful" remains challenging in its subject matter: we are, after all, asked to follow a dying man on his last rounds. Although "21 Grams" dealt with death and communication in Inarritu’s typical disjointed, fragmented narrative manner and "Babel" explored the impact of (the possibility of) death on various characters, those films were more forgiving than "Biutiful".

For all its exemplary acting and craftsmanship, this film is a singularly draining experience set in a Spanish underbelly where ostensibly good intentions pave the road to hell, and where the exploitation of others –living and dead – form part of daily life. Corrupt policeman, immigrants, sweat shops, poverty: this is Uxbal’s world, and the film’s representation of this world is rings with authenticity. This environment creates men like Uxbal (about whose personal history the film tells us very little) as much as men like Uxbal maintain that environment. Surely the title of the film plays ironically on the content of the film as well as the manner of presentation, as the film is shot in a gritty manner that often forces us into the character’s personal space through close-ups and medium close-ups. (Admittedly, one scene endows the title with a more sentimental meaning for Uxbal.) Inarritu thus forgoes his usual film structure, often referred to as the hypertext film because of how different characters, themes and scenes link up almost unexpectedly, for more traditional storytelling.

At almost two and a half hours, the result is a relentless journey into personal, familial and societal disintegration. Uxbal’s world is physically cluttered and confined, and the film frame is often crammed with objects and people. One scene can be said to offer a very brief visual respite as a flock of birds fly into the frame while Uxbal is on the phone, walking and talking as he makes his way through the city, and he stares after them. Their freedom, etched against an open sky instead of imposing and intrusive grey architecture, serves to underscore the character’s condition, how little agency he has in the life that has shaped him, and how bound he is to the city that will bury him.