Michael Cimino is known for his casual approach to movies. He dedicates time on the small things, gives more screen time for scenes which according to him are vital, and loves filming for more than 3 hours. But, the fact is, Cimino had a vision and fulfilled it. Whether it was the great Deer Hunter or Heaven’s Gate.
The only thing that separates Cimino from Terrence Malick is that Cimino’s films were never somber. They were full of life and you acknowledged it. You reacted to almost everything that happened in Deer Hunter. You were struck with grief when you witnessed the barbaric Russian Roulette games. You were a part of the grand wedding. You were humming “God Bless America” at the end of the movie. You don’t do the same with Malick’s films.
Malick has undergone tremendous change since Badlands, which is still my favourite Malick film. If you’ve heard about Tree of Life, you know what I’m talking about. To The Wonder is a desperate attempt to be another documentary shot by a Discovery Channel crew.
Malick may even be considered to be an evangelist. In Tree of Life, he preached existentialism and the nature of human soul. In To The Wonder, he preaches love in all of its forms. His quest to explain the beauty through long drawn shots of Oklahoma and midwestern United States as he patiently lets his characters walk into their roles. While Olga Kurylenko clearly is the star of the film, one can’t help notice Javier Bardem playing the deus ex machina – a priest undergoing a crisis of faith, who actually solves much of the film’s problems.
Ben Affleck is forever wooden, which is why I found it better when he’s not emoting much. I feel that Malick should only cast Jessica Chastain and either Brad Pitt or Sean Penn in his forthcoming ventures. When they emote, they do it without much fuss and it stands out. Rock solid. Watching Rachel McAdams try hard to emote her feelings felt like watching a game of charades.
To The Wonder may have been a 20 minute film if shot by a film student. It may have been a 150 page teen fiction if written by Nicholas Sparks, Or, it may have been a 90 minute memorable drama if directed by Woody Allen. In Malick’s hands, it’s an overly somber film that never lets the fat lady sing.