My husband called today and asked if the kids and I wanted to meet him after work and go to "The Tree of Life." He'd read a review of it and it sounded like something we'd like. The review said it was filled with symbolism that LDS people would enjoy. I foolishly invited my parents to come along.
Well, I'm LDS. I appreciate symbolism. I enjoy artistic, thought-provoking and beautiful things. And I thought it was a random, convoluted mess.
Sure, there were a few bright spots. At the beginning of the movie, in a soft, whispered, almost impossible to hear and understand voice over, the mother talks about the difference between grace and nature. I'm paraphrasing because I've only seen the movie once and I'll never see it again, but if I remember correctly, it was something like grace tolerates insult and pain, loves, and forgives. Nature on the other hand, takes what it wants and thinks of itself. I allowed myself to be a little excited by those opening words. I thought they were beautiful and I thought maybe it meant we were in for a treat.
The movie starred a mumbling Sean Penn and a brooding and dysfunctional Brad Pitt. Pitt avoided his pretty boy persona by jutting out his jaw and lower lip in a strange way for much of the movie. I found it distracting.
There were so many odd and random scenes that we kept thinking of different ones all the way home. And that was an hour. There was the dad playing poker for no reason. The mother washed her feet in the hose after hanging up the laundry. At one point, for only a second, she spun around, floating through the air by a large tree. The oldest son spied on the neighbor. He sneaked into a neighbor's house and stole a slip and for a second hid it under a plank and then sent it floating down the river. Several times, for no reason that furthered the story, we saw Brad Pitt walking through his place of business. He went to China and Germany but we have no idea why, only that the children and his wife were thrilled to have him gone and jumped on the beds together.
I could go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Hopefully you get my point. We thought it might never end.
The best part of the movie is that Jessica Chastain was beautiful--sometimes stunningly beautiful. And she wore great clothes.
One comment left on the above review was critical and condescending to anyone who didn't love the movie, giving the impression that if we were a little smarter we'd have understood it.
I went with my smart parents, my smart husband, and my smart children. And I don't consider myself an intellectual half-wit either. All of us left the theater laughing and shaking our heads at the pomposity of the entire thing.
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