I’ve always wondered how critics write film reviews. What qualities they posses that makes it so easy for them to decide which movies are worth viewing and which are a cinematic catastrophe. It happened more than once to seriously question my intelligence, my knowledge and power of understanding after seeing a film that was considered a ‘true masterpiece’ only to find it utterly stupid. Didn’t I know enough about art? Was I just a mediocre person living under the false impression that my education and interest in literature, good music and philosophy were not actually making me part of that world of people who can go to an art exhibition and actually get it?
My self-confidence in this particular department was shaken again today after watching ‘The Tree of Life’. Two hours of beautiful images that resembled a Discovery Channel documentary on the origins of our Mother Earth, a somewhat tired Brad Pitt and a few Sean Penn moments didn’t really make that brilliant masterpiece critics have been raving about. The movie has no story, no beginning and no ending, it is way too conceptual and abstract and it has a pace that felt like Chinese water torture. However, Jessica Chastain is incredibly beautiful and wears amazing dresses and the music is also stunning. What is the movie about? Frankly, I have no idea. I’ve struggled to get the message but beside the whole whispering of generally valid truths such as ‘we must love everyone’ and ‘ unless you love, your life will flash by’ there’s nothing I could grasp. The movie is about life, of course. But aren’t all movies about that? It seems to me like Mr. Malick couldn’t actually decide on which parts of ‘life’ he wanted to tell us about and he just threw everything in. Or maybe he was afraid he won’t have the chance to ever make a movie and mixed all his ideas in this pretentious ‘artwork’.
There is a very interesting line in one of my favorite plays, ‘The Shape of Things’ which says that when Picasso took a shit, he didn’t call it art. I have given it a lot of thought especially since today it seems really fine to vomit any ideas that might cross our minds and call the final result art. The definition of art itself becomes more and more vague and our freedom of expression can trick us into thinking that we can all be Michelangelo. But the truth is, we can’t. Not all of us are gifted and posses the power of telling meaningful stories. And in Terrence Malick’s case, maybe he really knows what his story is all about, but there’s this very basic rule which applies to writing and creating anything: it might sound or look brilliant to yourself but if it doesn’t make sense to your audience, then Mr. Artist, we have a problem.
Walking back home from the cinema and trying to comfort myself, I have thought about the possibility that even film critics don’t always get it but having to say something about the movies, they just come up with this puffed-up reviews full of adjectives and bombastic words that just as with Malick’s breath-taking images distract people from the real content or better said, lack of it. They’ve said ‘The Tree of Life’ is a must-see movie for at least to have an opinion about it. And that’s precisely what I can’t do. Or maybe, here’s one: I think it’s a film for snobs. Intellectual snobs that take pride in watching tedious, pretentious, French independent movies, read heavy stuff or The New Yorker, and think of going to gallery openings and exhibitions as the ultimate cool activity. Meanwhile, I will be patiently waiting for more people to watch ‘The Tree of Life’ and illuminate me on the profoundness of the story. On a final note, allow me to share a tip someone gave me before going to see the movie and that I have completely ignored: it’s a the kind of movie you have to watch while smoking pot.