Emperor Malick is Wearing No Clothes. Or Plot. Or Characters.
The first movie I have walked out of in as long as I can remember is still on the screen at Austin's Arbor Theater but I am sipping a beer and wondering if I will ever pay to see a Terence Malick film again. As utterly bored as I have been in a theater since Tree of Life (which SHONE in comparison), I gave up waiting for something to happen to wrap this turkey up or make me care. News Flash: it had not appeared on screen at 2 hours in.
I want those 2 hours back.
Malick's latest "Song To Song"? Beautifully-lensed images of characters I know little about and care even less about looking mostly beautiful and doing stuff I don't care about or understand. Any Calvin Klein "Obsession" advert from the 80s had more substance, a more compelling story line and infinitely more ability to hold my interest. This was like a cinematic Austin Architectural Digest showcase of homes, but less interesting. Oh. It was about "struggling musicians"? Malick's definition of "struggling" is as far from reality as Gigli is from good.
The Patti Smith cameo and song snippets in a soundtrack (seemingly created by 20 or 30 misguided people who did not know each other and apparently had not seen the film) were my sole high points. They were enough to make me go all the way to 2 stars, but minus one because I looked at my watch about 8 times waiting for it to end. It may STILL be running and I am halfway through a beer down the road.
Can we chip in to buy Malick a screenwriter, and an editor? Emperor Malick is buck naked folks. Maybe a Kickstarter campaign? SKIP IT.
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