Reviews

Interstellar is a lesser exercise in reflection than the masterpieces in its genre, but it's a thrilling, emotional, intimate and unpredictable adventure. one that does not slow down its pace for a moment, which is unfortunate because it chooses to tiptoe on certain moments that could have easily enrich the experience by just letting them breathe for a while. the further the film progresses, the more we lose hope for a satisfying resolution. and accordingly, the very basic of human qualities; survival, the quest for knowledge, the will to remain true to one's principles, communication and longevity get tested.

perhaps the film's greatest strength to me is how it was able to take an idea so cheesy and poor, whichever way i look at it, that love between humans transcends dimensions and is the physical force to save the world.. running with it and finally bring it home in the best way imaginable way in the tesseract, ultimately making it a tour de force emotionally and visually.

despite its many scientific blunders and incompetent dialogue, i think the film means well overall. Interstellar refuses to be just another blockbuster, and dreams of being an epic adventure of grandiose ambition, putting man and his place in the universe in the heart of the intrigue. in its intentions of confronting man with his own mortality and existential legitimacy, there lies a sensible reflections on family and the perpetuation of our species.

Interstellar is frequently messy, often in a hurry and restless, occasionally silly and redundant, but substantiates a heartening reflection on love, death, hope and perseverance that somehow overweighs its poor tendencies.

the greatest success of the film is the portentous performances from the two leads and Haneke's confident story-telling. as the title suggests, it is a film about love, but not the romantic side of it. it is mature and devoid of youthful passion, as one goes through the old stages of life and faces the indications of nearing death. Between Anne and George, it is not a matter of outpouring of fond emotions, but of understanding and mutual listening.

Haneke's film is decidedly sad and cheerless, and as such, he was able to introduce the worst in humans in an understated manner. evoking selfishness, ego, loneliness and conclusive resignation, the film's lingering narrative culminates in despair. time changes things, and so does love.

Her follows the classic relationship phases of initiation, development and subsequent breakdown. Theodore, a lonely man without any real interests sees his life transform by the arrival of Samantha, artificial intelligence that's supposed to answer to his desires. as soon as Samantha is introduced, the film becomes oddly familiar in modern times as Theodore gradually achieves intimacy with her. it feels strange how authentic their bond, and later, their relationship, is.

"Her" is a romance, yes, but it immediately insinuates the breakup without trying to have the reservoir of hysteria that seems synonymous with the genre - nothing is here but softness and subtlety. by according Samantha full autonomy and intuitive reactions close to human behavior, Spike Jonze is able to explore more universal and concrete roads in a manner that hints but doesn't highlight, all inside a beautiful retro-futuristic setting that borders on timelessness.

as viewers, Theodore is our only point of reference. we can't identify with Samantha. we just observe her, learn about her and even have virtual sex with her on occasion.. but the constant upgrade of her existence keeps her beyond our grasp, and so our fascination with her, the wonderful mystique, is increasingly heightened.

Samantha's last upgrade saw her evolve, with other OSes, beyond their human companions, and subsequently leave to further explore her existence. this notion of technological singularity that the film exceptionally brings up is very humbling and sad because it acutely emphasizes the limitations of our human existence. this also brings to my mind the possibility of us being too stupid for supposed superior and advanced aliens to be interested in us or even to notice us. the indication of our species compared to other life forms on Earth has long been our greater intelligence. despite the countless worrisome occurrences of failure of our collective intellect, intelligence is something we pride ourselves with and even celebrate. i could think of nothing more ego crushing than suddenly to be aware of our ultimate intrinsic frailty in this beautiful way.

Her is a film that only makes true sense if it is experienced to the end of its capacity, to the end of reason. only then it becomes so enriching through the acceptance of failure.

with exquisite image compositions, storytelling and omnipresent music, the film fully reflects the obsession of Llewyn Davis for his passion, his firm conviction that the world underestimates his talent.

more than anything else, i think, what makes the Coen Brothers so special is their unique ability and manner in layering their story. there is always this other layer, an existential, mythical plan that allows the film something more than what it seems on the surface, the sort of thing that i'm certain will ensure success upon multiple rewatches. the Coens are able to trigger mystery and involvement by having those narrative gaps and scenes that can not (or should not) be understood immediately; and so, the set is ready to fill the film up with our own projections.

maybe i've talked more about the filmmakers than the film itself, but it is all the more worthy for being able to showcase the Coens brand of cinema and stand as a testament to it.

Cate Blanchett is phenomenal in the lead role. she completely steals the show and brilliantly plays the role of a self-centered woman so used to the good life in scenes of the past, and her vulnerability is felt in the present. she lost everything, is unstable, lies without thinking, talks aloud to herself and tries somehow to rebuild her old life; a great amorous and neurotic lead for Woody Allen.

it doesn't amount to a lot, but it performs a balancing act between comedic ease and bitter tragedy, elation and misery, skillfully through flashbacks that punctuate the film. the chiseled writing of Woody Allen and finesse of Cate Blanchett are instrumental in reshaping each scene with the outline of a character not so obvious to identify.

True history accounts don't necessarily make for good art, especially for the heavy themed ones, as they tend to be too seeded in reality and consistently emphasize contrived emotions that are basically inescapable. the whole premise of the thing is the hint of authenticity and narrative authority. it now seems disingenuous to me to sell a film with such a tagline that says 'based on a true story'.

like most art forms, the value of a film lies in two things: the subject and the style. the subject is the recorded experience, taken independently by itself; it's the motif that drives the narrative. the style is the means by which a subject is presented and explored by the filmmakers. i don't suppose the subject is to be original in any sort, since pretty much everything is a rehash of past human experience. as such, i'm much more interested in the style and form. the thing with 12 Years a Slave is that its form doesn't quite prevail against the problems related to this type of films.

i probably shouldn't care that a moving, oppressive drama is most likely going to sway and affect its audience a great deal. that is not to say that the film is bad. far from it; i thought the film did good in preparing complex characters, and giving them to some of the best actors of today, producing great performances. Steve McQueen's gritty and realistic direction makes sure to keep the intensity going. another thing i admired is that McQueen never tries to make a hero out of Solomon, despite the temptations that can conquer a lesser filmmaker. in the end, i was moved but not totally satisfied; i prefer Hunger and Shame.

here is another epic tale of unquenchable desire and ruthless candor from an ever vital and sharp filmmaker. fueled by breathless narrative pace, Scorsese directs the madness all around not to be a by-product or an excessive result, but as a driver and engine to a story about hedonistic, escalating thrills, relentlessly fighting the normal and the boring. Belfort is an animated character, and Dicaprio is on point to channel all the energy and exuberance. he really bares his all in different ways and delivers one of the finest performances of his career.

this film indeed doesn't glorify nor condemn Belfort's actions or lifestyle. that's interesting because, to me, Belfort isn't irredeemable, and as such, his character is compelling and the verdict on him is up in the air.. the thing is that, actually, morality is relative; and, provided a situation where society disagrees about what is moral, which is most of time, nobody is objectively right or wrong. the value of morality really gains significance when society is introduced, otherwise, it's whatever works. Belfort's story is a great example of moral judgement being relative to some certain standpoint, and the film excels is demonstrating just that.

the film follows the adventures of two adolescents, helping the enigmatic Mud. what the film is about, though, is loss of innocence. childhood endings and adult beginnings, which involve coming into contact with the reality of the world, the intricacies of the complex. especially the relationships and emotions at stake; the meaning of love, friendship and loyalty.

unfolded mostly through the eyes of Ellis, the film thematically walks the line between the sweet, willful ignorance and the realization of the harsh reality; the gullible nature of adolescence that leaves room for disillusionment about the human nature.

Jeff Nichols depicts the phase with delicacy, and commendably takes his time to make the transition. he is, along with Ellis, disappointed and angry at the lies and manipulation which adults unmask continuously. the film offers strong performances and atmosphere; however, i found the ending to be complacent and lazily written.

given the creative people involved and my past experience with their work, the thought of Before Midnight turning out to be dull and unimaginative has never crossed my mind, especially after the reception it received. the thing with sequels is that a good chunk of them are basically remakes of the original films, driven mostly by popular and commercial demands. in and of themselves, sequels aren't inherently bad, there really just has to be a genuine creative interest and desire to tell another chapter of a story. such is exactly the kind of continuation we have here; a continuation that even enhances its predecessor by making it a part of a larger story.

when we meet Jesse and Celine this time around, they are a couple. and as we've come to expect, the experiences of two protagonists take place over a short period of time, the director shows us a day of their holiday in Greece. things seems idyllic on the surface, but as is the nature of relationships, tensions are ever present. it's like a river, it rolls on continuously carrying much of what's good, but presented with certain circumstances, it can dry up to harmful results. or maybe i'm just way off and Sprinsteen's song, The River, has nothing to do with this.

The couple wanders through the Greek city on their way to a hotel, talking, being humorous, getting to know each other more and also quarreling. In all three of the films, the conversations between Celine and Jesse is the mainstay and it's what makes the films so appealing and brilliant. It's not so much about what they say as it is the rhythm and their interplay back and forth. It's such a delight to watch. it is a pleasure to see that even if they have aged, they haven't lost their sweet folly and their wry humor, having fun again discussing anything, from regrets to wishes, to the meaning of life.

i love it. i fall for moments like in the end, when they're sitting in a small café table and Jesse begins to improvise a story about how he has come from the future..

from the start, this film possesses that likability factor of having the indie, black and white and ordinary people appeal to it. the use of black and white coupled with the subtle lighting is really effective and keeps the visual aspects well within control. that's a good decision, i think, now realizing that black and white is a better conductor for raw emotions. color really improves on the foundation, of what is there on the image, it is supposed to add visual interest and importance; so if one doesn't wanna bother with conceiving those layers, black and white is the way to go.

Frances is a very lovable character with a good heart, good intentions and a good dose of awkward and quirk. Greta Gerwig is great on screen playing her with vibrancy, care and transparency. you can tell it was personal to Gerwig, helping also in writing a clever but not a pretentious script, that's consciously trying to stay emotive and real to a bohemian life of a New Yorker verging on adulthood, refusing to raise any conventional and unnecessary stakes, story wise. i think it achieves what it sets out to, and advocates sincerity in its content and its narrative.

the film is a very sensual experience. Cuarón is careful to put us up there with the astronauts, seeing everything from their perspective. looking so good, the visual aspect is nothing to complain about. the film is relentless in delivering wonderful (really meaning it elicits wonder) sequences, one after the other. it keeps you mesmerized and fixated on the suspense that ceases not to arise along the ride.

however, in between all of the wondrous and sensory pleasing input, therein lies my issue with the film. given the fact that it is almost entirely set in outer space, the film is able to let space become a character of its own, and it does that to good effect, portraying its majestic beauty and its cruel indifference, but not quite enough. it seemed to me that the film's determination to continue building thrill caused it to lack depth and ultimately miss out on other interesting characteristics of space, such as the idea that floating out of Earth, above most things, puts in perspective just how much we belong to - or better, are one with - the universe, opening up a range of exciting and curious existential musings and uncertainty. in the final scene, i felt that any intended allusions to the evolution of life crawling out of the sea onto the land is undeserved.

the result is a breathtaking journey and a distinctive visual experience, with an oddly impersonal significance that leaves it slightly limping.

Only God Forgives lacks a conventional narrative or such parameters; it has been criticized for giving the story a secondary importance, as that was the most noteworthy attribute in a film. to be consistent, that particular criticism seems unfair to me, seeing that the film denies using familiar resources such as voice over or flashbacks, and deliberately seeks a deep introspective nature. the film really revolves around internal struggles: past and present, self-interest and moral justice, desire and violence.

even when we're given information about them defined by their past, the characters never take a life of their on own; they never leave the framework designed by the filmmaker, marked by the traditional and modern looking city of Bangkok. the film is very interesting and appealing aesthetically in the way its scenes look and sound. one object that i found recurring frequently is Julian's hands. i'm still trying to figure out how to interpret it, but hands is our best and most useful biological tools, so they may imply the wrongdoings they have inflicted.

Only God Forgives is maybe challenging the classical notions of what makes a film work, but i find merit in its unique form.

the film is sinister cold due to the film noir quality, winter and snow. Prisoners skillfully mixes suspense thriller and human drama, and beautifully exploits its characters, played by talented actors capable of extending and enhancing the dark atmosphere set by the pictures and narrative; darkness that invades the screen to embody a looming, terrifying evil. The film takes its time to develop the characters and display different but equally intense counterpoints. There are times when the plot seems too complex and one fears that the complication are resolved simplistically, as with many suspense films, but the excellent screenplay manages to solve with intelligence and intrigue. it's a contemplatively paced descent into hell, suggesting that one can not safely navigate a clear encounter with horror.

no one i've seen uses a camera as does Terrence Malick: a steadicam traveling without looking back, relentlessly following characters in a rhythmic dance from one sequence to another, flowing around them and in the void, omniscient at times and absent at others. the thing about it is that it offers the viewer a hand, leading a lyrically visceral cinematic experience. i think it's correct to state that Malick starts shooting a giving scene when other filmmakers usually finish it.

Malick's way of utilizing actors in this film brings to mind Robert Bresson's idea that actors are models; vessels for dramatic purposes. he frames his characters only in fragments: a torso, a hand, a neck; almost awkward if one singles them out of the film's frame of reference. but the film itself has little interest in characters or story, really; instead, it aspires to illustrate and give soul to an ideal through the bodies and through the energy flowing in and between them. because happiness is cyclically ephemeral and change is imminent, love must exist as an abstraction, independent of specific instances.

to me, the film is an apotheosis of love, with narration reminiscent of a diary page about the pain that comes with love, and images shining with splendor. at times capable of filling the senses with serenity and beauty; especially when Kurylenko, with a brilliant emotional portrayal, is leading the journey. if it was up to me, though, i'd rather have it concentrate mostly on Kurylenko and Affleck; as the film wandered other territories, i found it to be losing focus.

concerning the jump cut editing style, while Malick strips down the medium to its barren bones, he communicates the narrative, if there's any, through memory. given the transient nature of memory, he shows only glimpses of the different angles of character accounts, explored through fleeting moments that shapes their innermost self.

one of the major assets of contemporary cinema, to me, is to smoothly impose a unique stamp and vision; Apichatpong Weerasethakul has evidently honed that particular aspect. The film has a lot of detail, but it lacks, or rather, is free from a prominent structure or form. It is indeed keen to childhood memories in the way they are disconnected and earnest; the memories flow into each other.

The film is peacefully and radically cut into two halves, juxtaposing natural and urban contemporary life, all the while inverting scenes. when trying to find a meaning in that, i think it is indicating the way we perceive memories. the first half might correspond with juvenile perception of memories; more in tune with nature and live at heart, almost childish (think of the guy confessing his love to the doctor). the second half might correlate to our perceptions as adults; pretty much isolated, dull and uninspired. here, the two halves replay more or less the same story: a hospital, a man, a woman, a quest for love, a monk and a few similar patterns.

in absence of total bliss and transcendence experienced in Weerasethakul's later effort Uncle Boonmee, Syndromes and a Century produces a degree of completion and serenity that is mesmerizing at times.

Child psychology is fascinating in the way it employs fantasy and games to deny hard hitting reality and ultimately spawn happiness out of the blue; It's a futile and inconsequential past time to adults, but it's a reason for being to children. The film gets that, and not in the slightest tries to manipulate the children's vulnerabilities for an easy and fat emotional output - which, i imagine, would seem counter- intuitive to a Hollywood studio - instead, the film is told from the children's perspective, as Twan mentioned; my favorite scenes are those shared between Paulette and Michel, we get to observe their innocence and realness, and the film doesn't shy away from the gullibilities of their understanding of life and death, the music helps in that but never to oversell it.

Another part of child psychology i find compelling is the philosophy of "i want it, then it should be mine". I'm still struggling to understand the moral incentives for such acts; children don't feel remorse unless if maybe punishment is in line, and they are certainly convinced that they have better use of whatever they've stolen. maybe they do it out of some burning need to experiment and to explore some feeling of control.

Jeux interdits (Forbidden Games) is a powerful film because it is not compromising. The story of Paulette and Michel doesn't end well for them, and the film closes on a sad note, perhaps advancing the notion that life is ultimately defined by loss and hardships, finely accentuated in Michel's eventual disposal of the crosses.

i think i'm a fan, all things considered. the film's second half is noticeably superior to the first; the film comes into its own when the focus timely shifts away from Lora and into the 4 women altogether, that really elevated the material for me.

it's a compassionate film that's sympathetic to the situation of African Americans at the time, identity search, the narrowed role of women in society, and more honorable causes.. but if i'm being honest, the content of the film didn't fill me with admiration; i liked Sirk's technique and the attractive score, but the film often damages itself by falling into the traps of racial stereotypes and overheated melodrama. and even if some tears are deserved, the final scenes in the funeral are a desperate attempt and it comes off unmerited; mainly because the film didn't nurse the relationship between Lora and Annie well enough.. there just wasn't enough context for it to hit as high as it aims.

This film belongs to a rather neo-realistic period in Fellini's filmography, presumably just before he formed a very personal style. the film describes a way of life of selfishness and irresponsibility exemplified by a character in the middle of it all, and scrutinize as the protagonist's conscience eventually kicks in. but nothing comes easy; Augusto had to really hit rock bottom to release himself and finally be capable of redemption. at points, it's like he's punishing himself to get to the poorest state he can get to, and lose everything that connects him to his dreadful and pathetic past; and it was probably necessary for him. Fellini, i found, is superb in portraying desolation, struggle and guilt, and is able to maintain a decided tone in a film even if he displays distinctive elements from time to time.

Don (Bill Murray) goes on a journey through his past to encounter old companions for a cause he is ambivalent to. each of these encounters takes a tempo of its own and builds from it enough to collectively make it a thrill to watch Don, a skeptical and slightly impassive man, go face to face with women of different characters from his past.

the film is an unlikely investigation on abandoned life trajectories, a wry trip to postponed adult responsibilities. this journey then turn on to be an inner ramble as Don gets slowly more implicated and involved. suitably, the film continues to avoid heavy drama until the end, which, although might disappoint some, suggests that life is more complex and enriching once you choose to be involved. Bill Murray delivers with no frills; i can't think of a better actor that communicates buried emotions while not doing much at all.

this the second Federico Fellini film that i see, after I Vitelloni which i liked quite a lot. La Strada is the story of Zampano (Anthony Quinn), a traveling showman and Gelsomina (Giulietta Masina), a girl with a kind of mental retardation as his assistant.

to me, the film alludes to contrasted but dear childish qualities in the characters; Gelsomina is the example of naivety and innocent goodness, Il Matto (the fool) is the kind, free spirited but often irresponsible kid, and Zampano, eventually reveals himself as a guilty, saddened and helpless soul after his brute shell breaks down in the aftermath of a tragic realization. in many cases, the scenes in La Strada are a success thanks to the music by Nino Rota which is pretty remarkable here.

La Strada is like a road film made in Fellini's way. the characters are too clouded in their mind and have no clue where their happiness lie or how to go about achieving it. they just keep searching in the road, but they are destined to fail. at the end, Gelsomina is lonely and Zampano is restless.

on of my complains about the film is that i think Gelsomina's innocence was too deliberate and obvious. she has a type of expressionistic, silent clown influence, glaring enough that it becomes distracting; maybe the conception or the writing of the character is responsible, or maybe it was the actress, but had Gelsomina been subtle, it would've certainly elevated the film for me as a whole. another of my complains is that the first half is too slow and it took much time for me to be involved

Fellini's direction here is intimate, and the setting seems unpremeditated, which, i think, can be thought of as pointing to the absurdity of life; the tendency for it to be meaningless and random, a theme that was present also in I Vitelloni.

The Place Beyond the Pines relentlessly explores the dualities and dilemmas of the human nature. every major character is living their life on the edge, one direct consequence is that it creates great tension that lands successfully with the viewer. you get to see these characters who are essentially shades of grey make critical decisions in big-time moments, and one great virtue of the film is the honesty and integrity injected into each turning point decision (good or bad, law violation, staying true to a principle, telling the truth or lying..)

the visual style of Cianfrance consists of close-ups, objects in the middle, chasing characters.. some of the pursuit scenes are a joy with a significant dose of realism. the cast does a great job in front of the camera. Eva Mendes was very good at providing fragility in the midst of all the masculinity and father-son themes presented in the vulnerable and decisive leads.

colliding three acts of the story at distant times over two generations that echo one another, this film is a powerful and arresting generational epic with outstanding, methodical narrative.

this film is out of the norm in just about every way. the narrative work in Lars Von Trier's Dogville is unique and special; told in the form of a prologue and 9 chapters, each inter-title gives away the general idea, in turn showing creativity, versatility and great confidence in raw storytelling ability. provided the setting, which could be a little off- putting at first, this might work brilliantly as a play, but it has everything in it to make a great film of itself.

the film is notable for the way it is told and portrayed. the plan to use a theatrical scenery and capture the whole story in one place, makes the film provoke in the viewer a very basic curious sense, and challenges his imaginative capacity and intrinsic perception. the excellent cast faces an unusual task to act naturally around invisible walls and manage to create an engaging environment. thematically, the minimal staging, only reinforces the discomfort and becomes a basis to communicate the film's thesis.

Lars Von Trier is a director who's no stranger to controversy with his films and not all people like what he has to say. here, the story is slow paced and lengthy, but it's so compelling that it doesn't matter, because the viewer stays focused, though never trapped.. besides the narrative creativity, Von Trier seeks to meddle in human behavior and cruelty, ultimately bringing the worst out of him. it's a frightening and uncompromising demonstration of the human condition; charity is linked with greed, benevolence with suspicion.. the film argues that there's definitely a limit to selfless generosity.

the script is extremely well developed and treats the characters carefully, especially the main character Grace. besides making me fall in love with her, Nicole Kidman is brilliant in her role as an introverted and submissive woman suffering numerous setbacks. pretty much all the rest of the cast is spot on.

Dogville is very literal, which makes it seems as if one was reading a book, in terms of conscious involvement. layered and excellent script, with a disturbing ending that is thoughtful and consistent

Argo exhibits an always risky blend of genres, in which comedy and political, here, and drama coexist in harmony for much of it and then make way for a thriller. it seems that Ben Affleck grown to a realization of his abilities and limitations as an actor; as he decidedly self-assign somber-looking characters in his films. the very good supporting cast make a success out of the comedy side of things. but this kind of film doesn't allow room for reflection, beside the skill of sustaining suspense, you're just supposed to follow; and in the end of the thriller when the issue is finally resolved, you're not left with much else to say after that. and there's really no afterthoughts. but it's good entertainment while it's running.

'completely batshit crazy', to quote a friend... that's true; Holy Motors is a lunatic film so unique, absurd and energetic that only Leos Carax may have created. a film of daring freedom and inexhaustible wealth that breaks the conventions of narrative, and pretty much travels cinema inside out. it's a celebration of the beauty of the act, of the play, of the body that is of Mr. Oscar, played by an expertly multifaceted Denis Lavant, who decisively anchors the film with his performance(s). Holy Motors resembles nothing and resembles everything. without elitism, it's open to all spectators to take in whatever they want from it, as one definitely should. a universal and passionate film that defies simplistic logic but proves to be completely attainable, if you just know how to accept it.

After a somewhat shadowy prologue in which a man, played by Carax himself, awakens from a dream in his room to find a hidden door in the wall and proceeds to open it with his middle finger (no joke), leading up to the projection room of a movie theater, evoking the impression of a dream film by the director.. we then meet Oscar: a mysterious hired figure whose life one day, carried in and around Paris in a white limousine equipped with a dressing room, consists of attending several appointments that requires him to play different roles - each being a complete transformation.

It is this unpredictability that makes Holy Motors such astonishing and delirious film making. from a strange motion capture mating dance, to a grand uncut performance of a gypsy song, to a leprechaun-like man kidnapping Eva Mendes, and many more stranger stuff.. Holy Motors is one of those films that provoke and mesmerize, offering a true cinema experience that can lead to long reflection while still be attainable on the surface.

for people looking to conclude meanings out of all this, there is plenty of room for interpretation: it would have to do with cinema itself, assuming multiple identities, literal representation of associative consciousness, confusion of what's real and what's not, strong allusions to death and reincarnation, second chances, the simple beauty of the act, the awareness of the state and appreciation of the art form, identity loss (applicable for man and the medium itself) and much more.. during one of his appointment, Mr. Oscar portrays a worn out, defeated father saying to his daughter: "your punishment is to be yourself and live with it"; the film takes you on a muse with thoughts like that.. during its magnificently interesting run, the film manages to allude to that many themes in an extremely organic way, so rich and so weird. i think it's genius

with all its strangeness, unpredictability and humor, Holy Motors is a unique and absorbing movie experience.

i wholeheartedly stand behind this outstanding work of film. i was completely awe-struck for like half an hour after i walked out the theater. one of my best cinematic experiences

it's a necessity to applaud the directorial sense, the camera movements and positioning around the characters (you can see how specific Malick was towards the height of camera, most notably with Sean Penn as Jack). amazing cinematography, art direction, score and acting. but the film didn't allow any of its actors to provide extraordinary performances, mainly because the film is much bigger in vision than its characters, and since there is no plot, the acting work as a continuous unfolding/evocation of memories and emotions. i can't say how much of the actual film was scripted, but i give much credit to the writing, though.

so many beauty in this film, i couldn't begin to point it out. the special effects, i thought were amazingly, and it's great to see how much creativity went through that whole process since Malick doesn't like computer generated special effects..

i went to see this with a couple of friends who are fairly casual movie watchers, and they loved the film so much. they praised mostly the poetic, personal and emotional side to it. that's a testament to the wide accessibility of the film. i was equally engaged in those virtues as well, it's quite admirable how the film evokes much of the viewer's own memories and feelings into the whole experience (the complexity of one's relationship with his family members, the ever-growing understanding of life, contact with the tragedy of death..). but in the grand scheme of it, as a preliminary interpretation of mine, the essence of the film is the experience/meditation of human life amid the God created cosmos, incorporating nature and grace, since i think man is a mixture/exists in both. the final scene represents finally letting go of nature and giving oneself over to grace..

The Tree of Life is film that's gonna stay with me for a long time, it's poetic, gorgeous, personal, philosophical, emotional, ambitious.. the film dares to go to great lengths to reach the medium's potential, and it doesn't fail in doing so