Tree of Life (2011) – A second look

On my first viewing of “Tree of Life,” Terrence Malick’s epic drama of God’s creation of the universe, one Texas family during the 1950s, and such small potatoes as life and death, it took me more than a week to even form words to describe a reaction.

And, now, on my second viewing, I realize those first thoughts and impressions were wrong. Fully and wildly dumbass wrong. I will not re-edit my first review. I still stand by it. As with a diary entry, it must remain, as this film – the most mind-blowing movie of 2011 – is something all new to me. Twelve days later. To understand my second-take reactions, one must read my first (naïve) impressions.

Malick, director of “Badlands” and “The New World,” here has made nothing short of a biblical love poem on film -- a psalm -- to not just the glory and passion of his own family, but God Himself, and all the meanings of His passion. In passion, there is great pain. And there is great pain on screen in this film. Death. (Sorry to get all religion, which I normally approach gingerly and awkwardly, always and forever.)

I realize now, that there is no Rapture or end of world drama in “Tree of Life,” I think, but only an adult man’s dream-like, memory-fueled acceptance of his beloved younger brother’s death by suicide and his re-finding of faith in God and life, the light if you will. That leap, that bridge, inspired by the planting of a tree at a glass-encased office tower.

It recalls the tree, the God-like tree, in front of his childhood home. The one associated with his own mother. Sean Penn is that man, Jack, an architect who was raised in a small Texas town by a strict and over-bearing, but loving and passionate, father (Brad Pitt) and free-spirited mother (Jessica Chastain).

I also now understand Malick’s use of creation and the very start of all life, for the miracle and darkness found in every childhood -- growing up, laughing, playing, maturing, rebelling -- is as majestic and beautiful as the very start of our and God’s universe and as dark as the cataclysmic death by meteor of all dinosaurs. It is beauty. Infinite.

I’m already well past a preset 200 word limit, and ready to spill another 1,000 words on this epic film – ready to spill on the dark traces of father and son relations that I experienced growing up, every boy did I surmise, and am re-living after seeing this work of beauty, and the way Jack’s younger self (Hunter McCracken) has his entire since-birth-driven belief in God and goodness ripped apart after watching a child drown.

An act, an event, I also saw as a child, as I spoke of in my first take.

And I did not realize until hours after my second viewing that the building that is central to Penn’s character, I have not only visited, but stayed at and photographed: The Hyatt Regency Hotel and Reunion Tower. I slept many nights, for several years running on an annual business trip. (It is within eye line of Dealy Plaza.)

I imagine my take will be fully different on a third viewing. How often does that happen in movies, to create such a personal reaction? Me, I loved it. But I respect the haters of this film, too. It is art. Made to provoke. If you think this film is shit, God bless, standby your reaction. Scream it. But know this: Does any human being actually give two farts about "Cowboys & Aliens"? I do not. I cannot even recall it. I bet fans of the film cannot either.

Few other films in 2011, or 2010, or 2009, and on and on, can make that claim. This is art. Mind-blowing, core of the soul, church in a cinema, art. New grade: A+