Like an Andrew Wyeth painting come to life, Malick's obsession with open doors and windows conjures myth and memories.
Nature is a cruel and unforgiving mistress.
Over time, man has conjured God to tame her and give reason and order to the random chaos.
In present day, a man named Jack (Sean Penn) wanders listlessly through a cold, sterile metropolis where success is measured by wealth and excess. On the anniversary of his brother’s death, a call to his father triggers an ocean of memories to come rushing over him. Distracted, he daydreams and wonders about the meaning of life and why his brother had to be taken from him. Was it because of the bad things he did as a child? Was it a failure on the part of his parents? Is it because his God is a mysterious and unknowable power that snuffs out life as easily as it gives it away? Is this why he has become so misguided and empty today? Jack imagines his childhood bookended by the beginning and end of time, where writer/director Terrence Malick’s meta-narrative provides a linear mirror image to Weerasethakul’s cosmic cycling from Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives. Memories and dreams fuel both films, but The Tree of Life cuts through time like a knife. Continue reading →
Writer/Director Apichatpong Weerasethakul (say that five times fast) has created Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives to be even more ponderous than his name or the film’s title. In Thailand, an ailing farmer named Boonmee (Thanapat Saisaymar) is cared for in his final days by his sister-in-law Jen (Jenjira Pongpas) and nephew Tong (Sakda Kaewbuadee) while restless spirits lurk in the jungle around them.
The film’s central conceit is that as one approaches death, memories flood the mind, and loved ones living and dead pay a visit and watch over us. As a Buddhist, Unlce Boonmee recalls not just his current life, but also past lives. What was done for Christianity in films like Dreyer’s Ordet or Reygadas’ Silent Light is done here for Buddhism. The spiritual lives of the characters are presented as if programmed in their DNA. It is not questioned; it just is. But whereas the other films presented a linear, “We live, We die, We rise,” narrative, here there is cosmic fluidity where one life or one being flows into the next for all eternity. This inner knowing is translated onto screen in a mesmerizing cacophony of sound design and imagery that evokes that cyclical flow…the stirring…of all beings great and small…past and present and future…in the night (symbolic of death).
The recollections are presented in a quasi-Faulknerian stream-of-consciousness. Continue reading →