The reclusive Terrence Malick is at it again. Creating dreamy vignettes using a constantly floating camera, flying through the story of people's lives. Women losing faith in men, and men losing faith in God, because they're disappointed of not being fulfilled of the high expectations they have of each. But even if the film had no story, Malick's hypnotic atmosphere and mesmerizing soundtrack is enough to rob his stars of their glamour, help you feel what they feel, and put you in a trance. This is beyond cinema - it's visual poetry.
PS: This movie got a feeble 43% on the Tomatometer, and some commentators say they wasted 2 hours of their life on it. Well, with all due respect, I really don't care. As also discussed here, Malick achieves levels of cinematic perfection with crude material other filmmakers rarely even bother to try. This was also the last film reviewed by Roger Ebert before his death in April.
Update (9/10/2013): I noticed the film started streaming on Netflix yesterday.
Mo says:
MoMagic!
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