#181
Post
by John Cope » Fri Dec 11, 2020 6:35 pm
I've seen this a couple of times now actually and was greatly impressed as I frankly expected to be; for me, it would have been a great disappointment and a genuine shock had I not been. But still, what is so impressive about it stands out as it always does in Malick's work. If anything though, the films seem replete with greatness and this is no exception. Here what distinguishes it most from the rest I guess is the supposed "return to form" of Malick's return to more conventional narrative filmmaking. And I suppose there is truth to that assertion but really he has just done here what I had hoped he would do which is to bring the results of his more experimental period into that familiar form, to infuse it with what he has learned and enrich it and enhance it accordingly (here it's the intensiveness of the style of these later films that informs it most obviously). For me, the entire corpus of Malick's 2010's experimental work is the finest and most extraordinary accomplishment for a filmmaker in this decade, as he has continued to refine his specific poetic technique throughout (since New World really). Either way, Malick's overall wayward style, barely perceptible as narrative, remains the predominant one. All the Malickian tropes are here in abundance to guide this film and give it form.
Despite everything, I continue to be genuinely amazed by the surfeit of extraordinary images; it really is almost like being overwhelmed by a tidal wave, an endless sea of such imagery (I kept thinking, "How many more ways can he find to shoot this already stunning landscape?"). It's a technique that yields not only subtly powerful images, only briefly glimpsed and grasped but also suggestions or associations which transform, such as the cathedral being shot in much the same way as the grim jail cells which, along with voice over, serves to suggest the sacredness Franz venerates can be found anywhere, even in the most dismal and life denying of conditions. I do find myself wondering how much footage Malick actually pulls in during these shoots because it seems that he obviously samples from all that to find his way through his films and yet there must be an incredible abundance just to do that. What's more, of course, and what makes all this especially special, is the way the imagery is structured within the film. All this vast mosaic bricolage of often the briefest snatches of shots here and there come together through masterful intuitive editing to evoke and convey a sense or understanding of something without belaboring that insight. I can think of only Claire Denis at her very best who can match that accomplishment.
Of course the other components contribute as well, such as the much derided (by some) voice overs which are as crucial as the imagery or the music. Here I think they may be made more palatable for some by often being actual excerpts from letters between the principle couple. But what I love about Malick's technique is that regardless of the source, he always manages to find something apt and he still presents it in a way consistent with his overall body of work (e.g. the excerpts may be from letters but they are broken up and presented in fragments of single sentences and words emphasizing the expressiveness of those words and simple single ideas rather than focusing on the complete context of the letters themselves--the context then is the film). I also like how he handles the German language as an unsubtitled "foreign" language, with an emphasis then on the sudden intrusiveness of aggression or incomprehension. Obviously this turns things upside down in terms of verisimilitude but it's an effective dramatic and aesthetic approach.
The narrative here is clearer and more direct, even gut wrenchingly so, with what is at stake also perhaps more comprehensible, put into high relief by the scenario. This is also the first time in a long time in which actors and performances were critical to the accomplishment of the film. Though this is very much of a piece in terms of performance style with all of Malick’s recent work, the dramatic intensity and legibility of the situation are far greater. Thankfully, the film is blessed with superb performances all around of delicate interior work, carefully rendered in a match for Malick’s own sensitivity. I do wonder how he gets performances of this scale and grand dimension when he is far from known as an “actors’ director”. The story of one man’s quiet rebellion against a society otherwise capitulated to corrupt authority may strike us as particularly culturally relevant but part of Malick’s achievement here is, as always, his universality, his own quiet defiance toward any easy, reductionist analogies. So, in other words, it may have that dimension but it is not defined by it or restricted to it. The focus is instead on the repercussions of Franz’s resistance, both for himself and his family and his larger community. What is emphasized throughout is the outrageous seeming irrationality (certainly impracticality) of Franz’s stance with virtually everyone, not just captors and tormentors, reminding him that his rebellion will make no difference to anyone ultimately but what is missed of course is that Franz’s view is on ultimacy itself; his many comments to that effect are disregarded or misunderstood. Still , something lingers and nags even the captors at times, forcing a subtle reevaluation of principles and standards. This is only ever suggested in Malick’s pensive way but what is very clear is that Franz’s action, his very position on the subject of loyalty to what he understands to be corruption is disruptive to everyone around him in a rippling effect sort of way which is far from subtle. And Malick succeeds at the hardest thing which is communicating Franz’s virtually incomprehensible level of commitment in a way which is comprehensible to us, at least enough so that it truly does prompt either marvel or an unsettled disruption of our own.
This film would make for a fine double feature with either Silence or Peter Glenville’s The Prisoner with Alec Guinness as a similarly imprisoned captive of conscience. Also, most oddly perhaps, I thought of Thelma & Louise at the end of this, specifically the scene between the two women when Geena Davis’s character is offered a chance to turn back from the direction they are going and says with resolution that something had crossed over in her and she couldn’t go back. Malick’s film (far more than Ridley Scott’s) convinces us of that.
](./images/smilies/eusa_wall.gif "Brick wall"){kind=small}
