Obligatory Tree of Life Post

I'm going to try to make this free of spoilers. I don't think it's possible to spoil this movie, though. Just don't walk out after the first 45 minutes.

Okay, so I saw The Tree of Life this past Tuesday. Right off the bat, I just have to say that the cinemotagraphy is amazing. It looks specacular. The movie itself is the culmination of Mallick's films. Everything was there: religion, man vs. the universe, voiceover, hands running through wheat, good vs. evil, shots of the sun, shots looking up at the trees. And it was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

But my thoughts on it haven't yet settled. At first, I thought that the parts about the dawn of the universe didn't mesh well or have a coherent message with the parts centering around Jack's family. But as I've had some distance from it, it is clearly one of the many contrasting pairs Mallick sets up in the film.
The very personal and subjective pain of losing a close family member, contrasted with the expanse of the universe
Father vs. Mother
Grace vs. Nature
Future vs. Present
Past vs. Present
Preparing for and sculpting the future, as opposed to letting things come, letting things happen
Evil vs. Good
The meting out of love (when deemed appropriate) vs. unconditional and ever-present love
Brother vs. brother

These were just a few of the themes that I felt and picked up on while watching the film. There were two specific impressions that have really resonated with me, though.

First, when it came to the Waco, TX scenes, so much reminded me of my own family and my own childhood. I am the eldest child, and I, too, felt a strange relationship to my younger siblings, both a strong love for and a certain jealousy of their presence. We were also physically disciplined (something I have no problem with), but later in my parents' marriage my dad became more abusive (something I have a huge problem with); my mom was also silently indignant about this, as Jack's mother was, but couldn't do much to stop it. Then there were some religious aspects of the film that really hit home. All of those questions were ones I had asked of God myself in some intensely personal, trying, and scary times. There is fear and awe and doubt mixed up in those moments, just as they were expertly portrayed in the movie.

The second thought that I just can't shake about this film is the similarities between it and East of Eden by John Steinbeck, one of my favorite books. East of Eden is just as beautiful, if not more so, and the juxtapositions between the beauty and wide open space of the west with the author's detailed family histories and personal memories recall Mallick's struggle to comprehend humanity and existence. Both works also allude to biblical references throughout. The book also centers around the relationships between brothers (there are at least three sets of siblings in the book, two of which feature brothers competing for love and acceptance), just as The Tree of Life spends time showing differences between the two brothers and the desire to be "good."

The book is a bit more concerned with fate and intertwining stories, as a book is so well-suited to do, but both pieces end (explicitly or implicitly) with what I interpreted as a choice. Both writers asked "why him?" with a certain amount of guilt, and I think Steinbeck provided not an answer but a choice -- an obligation -- to keep going. Although my fellow moviegoers, SM and DS, disagreed with me about the ending of the film, I saw it as a sign of freedom from the burden of grief, permission to keep going: Timshel, "thou mayest." He is the only one left to do something with his life, and he has the permission, he should do so without guilt.

These are just some reactions that have been going through my head in the past 4 days. I think I need to see the film again to really hammer down whether the questions Mallick posed were answered or if they need answers at all. DS was pretty adamant that this was one of the finest films he'd ever seen, and that there was no conclusion to be drawn from the impressionistic portrait. Maybe it's just my desire for outlines and closure, but I think there's more to this than not being able to fully interpret it, and I think we're allowed to judge the piece if it doesn't end up coalescing into anything substantial. I'll let you know if I figure anything else out.

First Impressions

It can be incredibly unnerving to have your reputation precede you. It is simultaneously flattering, frightening, and intimidating that others have spoken of you, that their friends have formed a picture to which they will compare you from then on. Whether positive or negative, you can add to that portrait or shatter it.

I am perpetually frustrated that I am doomed to be trapped inside my own head, never able to see myself without an intimate knowledge of myself and my own neuroses. What does what we do for our own reasons look like to everyone else who is not privy to those incentives? What do other people see when they meet you? How does that change as they get to know you?

Anyway, one of my closest friends, JW, had an engagement party (in celebration of her engagement, of course, but also her civil union -- her husband, JD, is from out of the country, meaning lots of paperwork ahead that they'd like to settle sooner rather than later). When I met 2 of my fellow bridesmaids, her other best friends from college, the first words out of their mouths were, "this is the Tiff?" "It's so great to finally meet you!" Of course I had heard loads about them and was happy to finally meet them as well, but I was immediately caught off guard -- what does that mean? What could they possibly know about me that I don't? We talked for a while, and JW came over. "She's so great! I love her!" they said. "I know, right?" JW responded, as if there was something I wasn't in on; they'd clearly talked about this before. I honestly don't get it. I thought they were really nice and really cool, and we certainly share some interests, but I kept getting the nagging feeling there was something I was missing, and it weirded me out.

I admitted this to SM the next morning: what is it that people see that I can't? How drastic a difference is the sense of our selves we get in our own heads from the self we are actually projecting to others? Obviously I know no one else is privy to my inner monologue, but one thing SM brought up that I hadn't thought of before was that what I take for granted may be what others lack and what they like in me. For example, he said, his mother finds me to be "warm," and he used the word "genuine" too. In discussing what those descriptions could possibly mean, we mapped it back to what I always thought was just asking questions about people and things because I actually wanted to know. Apparently not everyone does that? I've also been accused of far worse -- being cold, being moody -- but in my head, there's always a reason, whether it's not knowing what to say; trying to internally wrestle with whether or not I'm doing the right thing; or watching my precious plans crumble before my eyes, leaving me helpless and clueless. Fortunately SM has learned to pick up on all of those things, and he knows how to read the situation and act or not act accordingly.

I'm sure everyone has their own reasons for everything, then, right? Is getting to know someone just familiarizing yourself with the differential between the inner workings of one's brain and the person you met that first time, the projection of that person in that first impression? Can you be close to someone without being familiar with that differential? Is Person X really such a bitch in their own head as they are in real life?

I'm reminded of a 30 Rock scene in which we see that Liz's impressions of high school -- mainly that everyone shunned her because she was such a nerd -- were completely devoid of reality, and that it was she who was really the one who was harsh and outspoken. I had a similar experience with a friend a few months ago. It's less about what others think than the idea of not knowing myself: did I really do that? Did I really hurt you? I had no idea. The oblivion is unnerving. If really knowing someone is indeed somewhat dependent upon being okay with that space between the inner workings of my head and the outer manifestations thereof, then I don't really think I am very well acquainted with me.