In an interview, Penn said of his supporting role in “Terence Malick’s “Tree of Life”:
I didn’t at all find on the screen the emotion of the script, which is the most magnificent one that I’ve ever read. A clearer and more conventional narrative would have helped the film without, in my opinion, lessening its beauty and its impact. Frankly, I’m still trying to figure out what I’m doing there and what I was supposed to add in that context! What’s more, Terry himself never managed to explain it to me clearly.
The quote can be found in the New Yorker, where writer Richard Brody attempts to defend Malick with what can only be described as nonsense: “Penn brings an acid yellow to the glass-and-metal grays of his scenes”.
Whatever.
As a fan of Malick’s “Badlands” and “The New World,” I was eager to see “Tree,” and did so in Hollywood at the ArcLight Theatre, which might be THE premiere place on the planet for upscale movie-lovers to ply their trade. After 139 confusing, frustrating minutes the credits finally rolled, the tension in the audience broke, and more than a few people broke out laughing — and not in a good way.
“Tree of Life” has its moments, but for the most part is a pretentious mess. For what seems like a half-hour, you witness Creation — from the Big Bang to dinosaurs to Brad Pitt — and then the narrative settles down into the story of a boy’s complicated relationships with his father (Pitt) in the idyllic rural ‘burbs of 1950’s America. The only problem is that this part of the movie is told in a way that’s obviously supposed to represent the jumbled way in which we all remember our childhoods. It’s all flashes and snips and bits and pieces, and after a while you just stop caring.
But the oddest parts of the film involve Penn, who plays one of the Pitt character’s grown sons (I was never sure which one). His scenes, which kind of bookend the film, simply don’t belong. In fact, the film would probably be better without his “acid yellow” because it would ease up on the confusion and pretension.
One of the most difficult parts of being an actor has to be the trust they offer the director. Once the actual shoot is over, the actor has no control of what the director will do with all that footage. While the actor moves on to the next project the director spends months in a dark room editing together a performance — creating whatever they want. Unless the actor enjoys the unique and rare privilege of final cut approval, they’re forced to let go of the wheel for a year and then hold their breath during the cast and crew screening. That has to be terrifying.
Penn (who worked with Malick before on “The Thin Red Line”) obviously trusted the auteur and fell victim to whatever happened between script and final cut. And I don’t blame him for being frustrated with what finally ended up on screen. Penn’s an excellent director in his own right and therefore understands how the process works as well as anyone. I would’ve been horrified to see my performance relegated to that disjointed afterthought — and I don’t have two Oscars.
“Tree of Life” is a noble failure, however; an ambitious director pushing himself to create a feeling — and succeeding at times. The problem is that he’s unable to sustain that feeling over 139 minutes. Obviously Malick’s feeling his age (67) and The Big Questions feel more pressing then ever — questions about where we came from and, more importantly, where we go next. “Tree of Life” tries to give us the answers, or at the very least, hope, which is worth something. But that’s the stuff of a fascinating late night conversation, not a film — where themes require the vehicle of a story.
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