Would probably have a better opinion of this had I not failed to catch it in theaters, although the structural diffuseness would've annoyed me there too. On small screen not even the prettiness can save it, and I must admit there's only so much power in a clean, delicate image. From The Thin Red Line on Malick's eye had turned too clean, every frame striving for ethereality without a necessary love for dirt/grit. There is no such thing as a comparison in his films--try as he might, his pained attempts to depict waste & disharmony (the projex, the disabled people, the suburbs) wind up just as breathless & simplemindedly evocative as his attempts to depict a sublime relationship. I like the move toward blatantly subjective cinema; there's no one in cinema that montages like Malick does;and his way with water rivals any impressionist. Yet his artistry stops at waterbrushing the world: any further perspective dulls under a style that seems increasingly selfish (if singular).
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