The Tree of Life

It was a STUNNING (the film directed by Terrence Malick I mean) 2 hours and eighteen minutes… quite stunning! Being the (whites only) Marin County (San Francisco Bay area) version of Angels and History with Sean Pean and other intergalactic stars gliding seamlessly between Big Bang, Creation, Vox Pox Evolution with contributions, as it were, from David Attenbro, National Geographic channel and Professor of Astronomy (Hubble space telescope pix), Mozart’s Requiem and God (at least I think it could have been God), time traveling from dinosaurs through to the existential pain of west coast post-modern successful alpha-male misery, and his memories (of course) by way of flashback to an even worse time before – a childhood in which three brothers learn to compete with each other murderously under (of course) the jealous gaze and malignant curse of the father (Brad Pitt), so that it is bound to end badly, and it does.

All you need is love.

The suggestion along these lines is offered late on about the 130+ minute mark in the film, and without the slightest hint of either inflection or inuenedo, at which point I am – yes – too stunned to appreciate anything, including the beauty or otherwise of the natural world, including the birds. There are (of course) seagulls whirling in the sky, but I am unable to see if anybody is in immediate danger of being attacked by them. There is also a long film sequence of a mass of starlings in (of course) intelligent flight behind the downtown skyscrapers at sunset, but I am unable to detect any significance in their movement.

The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

It is my fault, I admit, that I cannot tell the difference, or provide a meaning, benign, malign, or otherwise to such events as these. The streets of London are burning… and now, according to the 6 o’clock news, Birmingham, Bristol and Liverpool too. And, like Basho, there is "that thing I do not know yet, the Windswept Spirit".


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