The Tree Of Life: Because Memory is Fractured

Has it ever occurred to you, sitting by the car window gazing at the open sky, you could almost conjure up your entire childhood in a timespan of a minute? Some elaborate details about the taste of warm milk in winters, the smell of kittens in the granary, or how it felt to take lashes on your hand with a wooden ruler, all of them occur to us in vivid detail. When you immediately trace back your momentary travel back in time, it seems hard to connect those dots to form anything perceptible out of it.  Memory seems so fractured and as we grow along we carry only those moments which our conscience allows us to. It is not chronological; it wavers like a kite in a windless endless sky, guided by strange force of nature beyond the space-time continuum of that moment. An old forgotten memory returns like the whiff of first rain on sand, giving birth to questions. Once of a while, these questions go on a cosmic quest of finding the meaning of how it all began, what was the mission we were sent here for, why did this particular memory pick this moment to resurface now in this car.

The Tree Of Life is Jack O’Brien’s fractured memory and his relentless pursuit to connect the dots, his quest to find the origin of this grand scheme that he was thrown into, his visions of an ideal future and of course, to decide between Nature and Grace.  A sum of all his moments like the one you could have had in a car, gazing at the open sky.  A series of circular meta-narratives envision Jack’s ( Sean Penn) memory of his childhood back in quite countryside of Texas in the 1950s. Much like how our memories are not chronological, the film shifts back in forth in time. Mr. Obrien ( Brad Pitt)  represents Nature and Mrs O’Brien (Jessica Chastain) represents Grace as the film’s angel-whispered voiceover explains a choice that must be made. Mr. O’Brien, the father, is a hard-as-nails disciplinarian who would stop at nothing to make his sons tough, cultured and much like himself.

At a philosophical level, The Tree Of Life is Jack O’Brien’s journey into accepting Grace as against Nature that his formative years have cultivated him into.  Avoiding any overt biblical references, the undercurrent of that theme is reflected throughout the film.  In that extended celestial celebration of the origin of life, we are shown a series of supernovas, life evolving from maggots to amoeba to fish, to the earth being an infinitesimal speck in this vast expanse of the cosmos and finally the birth of life.  The  long sequence about the origin of evolution is to trace the source of human emotion than just life in it’s biological form. Life is not just about the blood pumping the heart but also the mind which allows us to think and feel, experience positive and negative emotion. A lot of the images in the sequence connote the birth of emotions; a jellyfish dancing to the bliss of life or the angry molten lava lashing on the mountains or the searing pain that the plesiosaur feels with the gash on it’s stomach. We are incepted into the evolution of human behavior early on when a dinosaur about to prey on a smaller dinosaur retreats, showing the act of Grace taking over Nature.  This excerpt from Thomas Kempis : Imitation Of Christ, Chapter 91 will help understand the dichotomy that Grace and Nature are made of.

Nature is crafty, and seduces many, snaring and deceiving them, and always works for her own ends. But Grace moves in simplicity, avoiding every appearance of evil. She makes no attempt to deceive, and does all things purely for love of God, in whom she rests as her final goal.

Nature is unwilling to be mortified, checked or overcome, obedient or willingly subject. Grace mortifies herself, resists sensuality, submits to control, and seeks to be overcome. She does not aim at enjoying her own liberty, but loves to be under discipline; and does not wish to lord it over anyone

 Mr. O’Brien represents Nature, contained within the magnanimity of itself. He uses harsh ways of teaching his children the good life, his love is preceded by his oppressive discipline for them. Young Jack (a brilliant Hunter McCracken) is gradually learning his father’s way but still a mellow rebellion is humming beneath his cold eyes.  Mrs. O’Brien represents Grace, the ethereal saint like beauty, always bowing down to the fierce nature and feels the god within. She is forbearing of her children, silently screaming when her child is beaten at the dinner table.  She sees god in everything, god in the butterfly that perches on her shoulder or the peck to her children which tucks them into sleep. Young Jack explores the freedom from Nature when his father is away. Taking the usual course of life, he experiences adolescence while possibly coming off on a neighbor’s gown. He is smashing the windows, praying to have his father killed in a whisper, scaring his mother with animal abuse. He is torn between the two worlds his parents represent.  Years later, when we see a middle-aged Jack amidst tall skyscrapers and almost unnatural, surreal workplace, we find him to have accepted his mother’s way of life, Grace.  We cannot see the sky in his world intending to show a godless place, the white and blunt edges of objects underscoring the bleakness of his life and searching for that point of acceptance.  From Jack’s memoirs we see the father-son conflict that leads to an uncomfortable truth that both of them deal with, all their lives, seeking a point of absolution from no one in particular, seeking an acknowledgment and dealing with the returning guilt that builds in time.

Following the staggering achievement of a script, Malick has had some path breaking photography to compliment the scale. Emmanuel Lubezki’s camera literally glides through the narrative with poetic swerves, as though Yeats is tapping his shoulder, cuing him at shots.  Lubezki’slast triumph was seen in Cuarón‘s Children of Men where he even devised new equipment for the final seven and half single take climax (there were cuts that were blind to the eye).  In The Tree of Life rarely do you see any static shots and most of them are canned on a steadicam, essential to stay in every breath and every thought of the character, lending that hypnotic feel to the whole film.  Most commendable is having to match the eye level of the children and still have the camera move smoothly. Almost half of the film is with children and their thoughts. One fine example of Lubezki’s precision is the single take bicycle ride sequence where the kids ride bicycles, suddenly let go of them and start running in to the woods.

Swaying grass in the water ( Remember Solaris? Tarkovsky would have been proud), volcanoes erupting,  sun flare and the rays beaming behind faces, inverted shots of shadows and a myriad of path breaking imagery.  The editing pattern is unique in a way like a bird that flutters around and just when it comes closer, it flies away. Malick doesn’t hold a moment and lets it move on before it’s conclusion to leave a profound impact. He believes in fleeting reactions. Even when Mrs. O’Brien has received the news of her son’s death, she doesn’t speak a word and even her cry is cut abruptly.  A fast movement into a shot is almost ‘jump cut’ into to a close shot, giving that hypnotic closeness to characters.  Such an imagery and editing style is supported by one of the most astounding background music and sound design I have ever witnessed. This film required the scale that Alexandre Desplat has brought with his music accompanied by the likes of Holst, Respighi, Gorecki and others.

Malick’s craft is impeccable and his attention to detail, not just the accurate production design but the perfect pitching of an emotion. For instance, there is a scene where young Jack’s father is working on the car with just one lever keeping it above the ground. He comes and looks at it and without a single dialogue the scene conveys the essence of that emotion perfectly. You really know what’s on Jack’s mind full of hatred for his father.  In most of Malick’s films, localities are sparsely populated which is a rarity to find in a period film, and I think that helps a lot in delivering the emptiness and isolation people feel in those times. Sometimes you even feel for the characters from the wide landscapes he keeps inter-cutting into. The detail in creating the character graph of both Mr.O’Brien and young Jack is noteworthy.  Mr.O’Brien is obsessed about music because he could never become a musician; he admonishes his children for closing the door with a thud and as a rule asks them give him a goodnight kiss.  Young Jack’s sibling rivalry is shown when he has just started walking and he looks at his new born brother and cries. He flashes his torch when he can’t sleep and he shoots his brother’s thumb and then apologizes with a liitle game he invents on the fly. In Jack O’Brien, you will see your childhood and say to yourself “I used to do that too”. Childhood is so universal in it’s manifest. Finally when we see an adult Jack, he is a different person who has embraced Grace as a way of life unlike his upbringing. The climax is a form of acceptance of grief, guilt and unfulfilled redemption.  The Tree Of Life is a film that will stand the test of time to be a masterpiece. Its an astounding work of art. You may find it slow, or you may not see the point of the cosmological coda but one thing is for certain, you’ll be moved. You will question your existence, how you were brought up and what you will take forward, what is the meaning of life. You will never see it pointless to gaze into the sky from your car.

I am leaving you with one of Jim Morrison’s poems while I go watch The Tree Of Life for the second time.

Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom?
Have you been borne yet & are you alive?
Let’s reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
& that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
Amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives

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