Terrence Malick = James Joyce

I finally saw Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life, that is, I finally experienced it, for the film demands much more of its audience than a typical movie.  In many ways, the piece leans more toward the avant-garde, and certainly further studying is required to tap into the mind of Malick--without pressing the pause button, without studying the frame, without taking note of the biblical references and literary allusions, the film will leave you more perplexed than entertained or inspired. 

Nevertheless, while it will take many more viewing to make sense of Malick's Palme d'Or winning film, I am sure of one thing: Tree of Life's cinematographic construction, in all its Kubrickian grandeur, undoubtedly lies alongside the narrative style of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.  Recall the opening lines of Joyce's novel:


Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo...

His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.

He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt.

Just as Joyce's stream of consciousness mimics the psychological patterns of a toddler's mind, so, too, does Malick's camera work jump cut from memory to memory within the same scene: we're not sure how much time passes from one frame to the next; the images race across the screen in a blur, come to a halt, linger, speed up again, slow down again--a whirlwind that is the process of remembering; shots from below place us inside the eyes of the child, making real to us the enormity of the sky above and the world around.  We come to realize, then, that even as adults we still remain the tiniest, most insignificant of creatures in our vast universe.

Of course, this question of postmodern self-identity leads to the subject of morality and purpose--in our daily lives, in nature, in the history of Earth, in the infinite realm of space--which is perhaps the major component of The Tree of Life.  This is when I must halt; I can say no more before studying the film again...and again.

In trying to decipher Malick's puzzling (I say that in all respect!) piece, I've gathered some articles for help.  I'm going to have to find a copy of the most recent Film Comment to read Kent Jones's analysis of the film, as it's not available online.  Here are some other posts with varying interpretations and reviews if you're interested:

Glenn Kenny, "'The Tree of Life': Malick's Masterpiece"
Nick Pinkerton, "The Difficult Gifts of The Tree of Life"
Scott Foundas, "Foundas on Film: Tree of Life"

...and J. Hoberman hated it.  "Cannes 2011: The Tree of Life"

I do know one more thing--the score (from Alexandre Desplat) was fantastic.