To the Wonder. (12A.)
Directed by Terrence Malick.
Starring Ben Affleck, Olga Kurylenko, Javier Bardem, Rachel MacAdams, Charles Baker and Romina Mondello. Partly subtitled. 116 mins.
During his four decades as Hollywood’s designated reclusive genius, Terrence Malick has become famous for shooting hundreds of hours of footage that he cuts down into finished films that are often completely different from what was first envisaged and leave many famous names completely excluded. Like Mickey Rourke, Gary Oldman, Martin Sheen and Viggo Mortensen with The Thin Red Line; Rachel Weisz, Jessica Chastain and Michael Sheen were at some point under the impression that they were in this film. They shouldn’t be too disappointed though; nobody’s really in this film. None of us make the final cut for Malick anymore.
In retrospect Tree Of Life was the moment when Malick’s veneer of genius finally slipped. The Palm D’Or winner was a very special achievement but it wasn’t the culminating masterpiece people expected and now this hasty, skimpy follow up suggest that Malick may have very little left to offer; just rehashes the duller bits of Tree Of Life.
Theoretically a romance, the story is more From The Wonder. Affleck and Kurylenko’s love blooms in the old world beauty of France, specifically Mont St. Michel, before the location shifts to the arid Oklahoma plains where Affleck has brought Kurylenko and her ten year old daughter over to live. Later MacAdams also falls briefly for him. He though cannot quite respond to their feelings. Elsewhere, Bardem is a priest who wanders around to no great end.
Malick is like a man who has given away all his material possessions to be closer to God. In his pursuit of making pure expressions of spiritual rapture, he has pared down his style so far he has now dispensed with all tenets of conventional drama. Instead his cast spend the whole film walking slowly away: often while looking back over their shoulder at the camera or while the camera circles round them or sometimes as the camera conducts low level fly passes. They twirl and spin as if part of some unending BBC station ident.
It is a vision that is meant to celebrate existence but in practice it diminishes it. It is a slideshow of mournful stares and smiles that reduces humanity to a bunch of spinning woodentops, mechanically dolls who can only perform two or three movements. In the way it gives you nothing but extreme high and low, it is like an extended music promo video; perhaps for a Classic FM compilation.
Nobody is quite as diminished by this vision as Affleck. Even J-lo didn’t make him look this foolish. Throughout you wonder why two vivacious, attractive ladies lavish their attentions on this mute, unresponsive lunk. Could it really be that Affleck represents the distant, unresponsive God everybody in the film is searching for?
Directed by Terrence Malick.
Starring Ben Affleck, Olga Kurylenko, Javier Bardem, Rachel MacAdams, Charles Baker and Romina Mondello. Partly subtitled. 116 mins.
During his four decades as Hollywood’s designated reclusive genius, Terrence Malick has become famous for shooting hundreds of hours of footage that he cuts down into finished films that are often completely different from what was first envisaged and leave many famous names completely excluded. Like Mickey Rourke, Gary Oldman, Martin Sheen and Viggo Mortensen with The Thin Red Line; Rachel Weisz, Jessica Chastain and Michael Sheen were at some point under the impression that they were in this film. They shouldn’t be too disappointed though; nobody’s really in this film. None of us make the final cut for Malick anymore.
In retrospect Tree Of Life was the moment when Malick’s veneer of genius finally slipped. The Palm D’Or winner was a very special achievement but it wasn’t the culminating masterpiece people expected and now this hasty, skimpy follow up suggest that Malick may have very little left to offer; just rehashes the duller bits of Tree Of Life.
Theoretically a romance, the story is more From The Wonder. Affleck and Kurylenko’s love blooms in the old world beauty of France, specifically Mont St. Michel, before the location shifts to the arid Oklahoma plains where Affleck has brought Kurylenko and her ten year old daughter over to live. Later MacAdams also falls briefly for him. He though cannot quite respond to their feelings. Elsewhere, Bardem is a priest who wanders around to no great end.
Malick is like a man who has given away all his material possessions to be closer to God. In his pursuit of making pure expressions of spiritual rapture, he has pared down his style so far he has now dispensed with all tenets of conventional drama. Instead his cast spend the whole film walking slowly away: often while looking back over their shoulder at the camera or while the camera circles round them or sometimes as the camera conducts low level fly passes. They twirl and spin as if part of some unending BBC station ident.
It is a vision that is meant to celebrate existence but in practice it diminishes it. It is a slideshow of mournful stares and smiles that reduces humanity to a bunch of spinning woodentops, mechanically dolls who can only perform two or three movements. In the way it gives you nothing but extreme high and low, it is like an extended music promo video; perhaps for a Classic FM compilation.
Nobody is quite as diminished by this vision as Affleck. Even J-lo didn’t make him look this foolish. Throughout you wonder why two vivacious, attractive ladies lavish their attentions on this mute, unresponsive lunk. Could it really be that Affleck represents the distant, unresponsive God everybody in the film is searching for?
