The Tree of Life is a film of endless beginnings.
The Tree of Life restored my faith in a cinema that transcends entertainment. I walked in knowing nothing about the film, except that it won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. What I discovered is a film that exists almost in spite of itself, as if it were oblivious to the fact that at the same multiplex a comedy sequel, a thriller remake and a comic book adaptation all played to packed audiences — yet it is the story of those very audiences, the brothers, mothers and fathers amongst them, about you and me and our fears and hopes and dreams.
Samira and I watched it at 12 a.m. in an almost empty theater, which got emptier as the film progressed. And every few minutes I reached for her arm and squeezed it, to assure myself she’s still there, that the woman I love is right next to me… if only for now, while we’re both here, while we’re alive.
“Tell us a story from before we can remember.”
I recognized elements of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, of my hero Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colors Trilogy, and of course of director Terrence Malick’s own meditative films, which come only once every several years and leave us with a sweet aftertaste until the next one comes along. But most importantly, I recognized elements of my own memory, with its wonderfully fragmented images and its infinitely nuanced meanings.
This is not a review, nor is it a critique. It is a thank you note to the handful of filmmakers out there who still believe in the power of cinema to engage, to challenge and, ultimately, to inspire.
Directed by Terrence Malick • Starring Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken and Laramie Eppler.