June 16, 2011
Handsome
I’ve been thinking a lot about hands in Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life, specifically the father’s, who, I think the first time I noticed it, was holding his newborn son and all you could see was his rigidity, in constant effort to control the baby’s movements.
Over time you see the father holding or hugging or directing his sons — even the hand on the back of a neck as a form of guidance or control — how that can be beautiful and calming in one moment and controlling and dictatorial in another.
But the scene that stood out for me was the one contrary to his holding of the child. It was after he lost his temper at the dinner table, after his anger broke through to his son, and his wife was so upset she struck out in an effort to turn her rage to blindness.
It wasn’t so much about his anger, then, or an attempt to control her character. It was only about his response, his ability to acknowledge her, even if he couldn’t articulate an apology for the anger he had caused, in the way he accepted it by holding her.
And, I think, he for the first time showed — regardless of what you thought of him throughout the film — an ability to turn the desire to control into a humility to hold.
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I feel like I’ve lived a whole life with people who are unable to articulate their apologies. It makes it feel almost impossible for me to understand or accept apologies. I find myself saying things like “Don’t even worry about it.” When I want to say “I forgive you.”
You are very perceptive about that.
Do you think Bad Teacher will have this much depth?
I had a different response to that scene. Brad Pitt’s character may have wanted to express tenderness, but he has a one-size-fits-all approach to emotions, and always reverts to physically controlling people. His wife went from angry, to frustrated, and finally resigned to the fact that her husband was a modern-day caveman. It being the 1950s, she was essentially stuck with the guy, so she accepted her own lack of control of the situation in her typical grace-like fashion.
My response was more in line with David’s than Deron’s, though I find Deron’s a lovely thought (and further evidence that I need to see the film again). I found the father’s efforts to hug his wife to be a genuine attempt to rectify the situation, but not one that involved any self awareness. He simply wanted it to end, for everything to be okay again.
Deron, can we go see it together one day next week, a matinee? Maybe a small group of us? Or do you want to see it alone?
I wanted to go see Tree of Life this past weekend, but it’s not (or wasn’t) playing in Sacramento.
Cindy, yes. I’d like that very much.
I haven’t seen it yet. Holding off for an afternoon during the week. Might have to take time off on a Thursday afternoon for the matinee.
(I saw “Oh, Brother Where Art Thou” on a similar afternoon, when I worked from home on contract, with my friend KP, who(m?) was also off that day. We were the only two in the theater, save one other individual who was four rows back. (Somehow, in my head, I made him a reviewer.) I was laughing out loud. Once, I leaned into Karen, “You know these are my people,” I said.)
Rick, one of my favorite memories is of a day back in the infamous Dallas summer of 1980 (where we had something like 45 straights days of 100+ degree weather with no rain). Steve McKelvey and I were both off on the same weekday and went to a matinee. There was only one other person in the theatre. Naturally, Steve and I decided to sit right in front of him.