In 1978, Terrence Malick was regarded as one of the most promising newcomers in Hollywood. His sophomore film
Days of Heaven
was a pure triumph following his exceptional 1973 first album
Badlands
. Malick had endless possibilities for his next project. However, according to the Hollywood legend, he vanished from sight instead.
Malick astonishingly returned to the big screen after two decades with his third movie.
The Thin Red Line
Today, this mysterious director has become highly productive. From 2011 to 2019, they produced six movies. This marks quite a shift from the long gap between their second and third features.
Despite the higher productivity, Malick still remains an enigma. His last known interview was with the French newspaper Le Monde back in 1979. Since then, he hasn’t granted any direct quotes to media outlets, and the sole photograph permitted for public release is a blurry promo image showing him at work directing.
The Thin Red Line
.
“The scene is illuminated with the warm glow of late afternoon, known as ‘the magic hour.’ This photograph was captured by his father, Emil Malick. Despite their disagreements, Terry continued to view himself through his dad’s perspective,” states the biography accompanying the image. Appearing midway through the narrative, this excerpt encapsulates part of John Bleasdale’s significant challenge: shedding light on both Malick’s human qualities and his distinctive style within cinema.
“The Magic Hours: The Films and Hidden Life of Terrence Malick” offers an extensive look into the filmmaker’s world, showcasing thorough investigative work through detailed exploration of the challenges involved in leading large teams both on-screen and off. Bleasdale enriches this narrative with snippets from newspapers, insights from fellow workers, and his individual reflections on Malick’s body of work.
This marks the first time Malick has been biographied. Consequently, an important query arises about whether Bleasdale managed to secure direct access to Malick. Although he readily mentions discussions with longstanding associates including production designer Jack Fisk and actors like Sean Penn, he dismisses the idea of having spent significant time with Malick by stating they only exchanged “very courteous emails.”
However, “The Magic Hours” explores more aspects of Malick’s private life than any previous individual source. Can we consider any of this information as coming directly from him, despite not being explicitly attributed to his request? The most insightful response I receive from Bleasdale is, “If there were, I wouldn’t be able to disclose it.”
While the detailed biography of Malick’s career is fascinating—especially the part about his difficult period known as the wilderness years, during which his struggles with producers Bobby Geisler and John Roberdeau fueled creative inspiration—it remains intriguing.
Knight of Cups
– The most compelling parts of the book delve into how Malick’s personal life intertwined with his professional journey.
Bleasdale’s biography portrays Malick as an affable and highly likable individual, equally inclined towards lighthearted banter and profound contemplation. Despite acknowledging his introverted nature, the book makes it evident that one should not adhere too closely to the myths portraying him as a recluse in Hollywood.
When the legends are set aside, details regarding Malick’s domestic life emerge. His complicated bond with his father, the absence of his siblings, and his romantic experiences all influence Bleasdale’s interpretations of his movies and how they connect to their respective release periods.
“He observes that tragic brothers and troubled fathers recur throughout his films.” However, even though aspects of his marriage to Michèle Monette shed some light on these themes, they do not fully explain them.
To The Wonder
Bleasdale makes it evident that his body of work is not merely concealed autobiography.
I believe he strongly wishes to conceal his personal life,” Bleasdale states. Similar to how his philosophical background and interest in spirituality frequently provide entry points into interpreting Malick’s work, Bleasdale argues this approach overlooks the essence. “He likely believes that if people view these elements as the ultimate keys to understanding all his films, it might prevent viewers from engaging with the movies directly and discovering their own meanings.
If Malick deliberately avoids the spotlight in an effort similar to Barthes’ ‘Death of the Author,’ aiming to prevent his personal life from overshadowing the interpretation of his movies, wouldn’t a biography go against his creative intentions? Bleasdale suggests this might be a misinterpretation of Malick’s distancing from media attention.
Bleasdale remarks, “He will definitely not read this book.” According to him, they had previously mentioned that they would avoid therapy as it would deplete their energy. Instead of opening up during interviews, they prefer exploring themselves through their films.
Similar to his AFI classmate David Lynch’s well-known reluctance to explain the meanings behind his movies, Malick’s focus regarding his public persona is solely on his films.
Engaging with these films, be it through subsequent discussions or even reading a biography, allows them to become part of our world. “Ultimately, the purpose of any film-related book should be to encourage readers to revisit the movies and appreciate them in greater depth,” explains Bleasdale.
“The Magic Hours” lives up to this expectation. It fully immerses itself in how Malick integrates his personal story into a filmmaking approach that pushes the boundaries of the genre. The fact that it achieves this with his most contentious works is even more remarkable compared to what he does with his well-loved movies. As Bleasdale elaborates in his section on
To The Wonder
There is much more to his approach to filmmaking than just the apparent link between his narratives and his second wife.
It’s peculiar. The film is ostensibly autobiographical, yet it’s entirely narrated through Marina’s [Olga Kurylenko]’s perspective. Ben Affleck barely has three lines throughout the entire movie; it’s practically centered around her character and Javier Bardem playing this roving clergyman.” According to Bleasdale, Malick remains creatively innovative even when delving into personal storytelling. “An autobiography doesn’t always mean exposing one’s innermost feelings. Instead, it can be about attempting to understand others’ viewpoints you’ve encountered in your journey. This approach demonstrates considerable generosity.
If Malick’s initial trio of films were regarded as masterpieces and his fifth – which was equally autobiographical –
The Tree of Life
cemented his return with the Palme d’Or at Cannes and Oscar nominations, his latter films have been largely criticised as meandering bores filled with droning spirituality and perfume-advert filmography.
Bleasdale contends that despite being highly abstract, his work retains an avant-garde artistic essence which remains just as impactful on cinema as his previous productions.
Out of Malick’s seven movies produced in this century, five were shot by cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (nicknamed Chivo). Their collaboration has created a distinctive visual style that characterizes their work together.
Over Chivo’s debut collaboration with Malick on his first film,
The New World
, they established a “dogma” for filming that involved utilizing “natural available light,” strictly prohibiting underexposure, along with other guidelines that disallowed zooms and discouraged pans and tilts in favor of movements “along the z-axis.” This set of rules has become characteristic of Malick’s films—sometimes even verging on caricature—but these principles have also seeped into mainstream modern cinematography. Lubezki received his third Academy Award for his contribution to this project.
The Revenant
, a movie featuring distinct bear claw marks inspired by Malick’s work.
Bleasdale mentions films and directors whom he believes demonstrate a clear impact of Malick’s work. He specifically points out those influenced by Paul Thomas Anderson’s movies.
There Will Be Blood
and
The Master
owe a significant debt to Malick’s historical works. From last year’s
Oppenheimer
, “You won’t find that level of editing with two scenes split throughout the entire film; instead, most of the storytelling consists of individual shots rather than complete scenes, all without ‘The Tree of Life.’ This also applies even to this year’s contender for Best Picture.
Nickel Boys
is “totally
The Tree of Life
in its handling of montage and subjective camera techniques.
If his creations prove unappealing to a general viewership, it’s because they push boundaries “by experimenting with cinematic storytelling,” Bleasdale notes. The aim remains to narrate tales that resonate with audiences through fresh perspectives.
As someone not previously swayed by Malick’s work, Bleasdale presents a compelling case for appreciating him both as a director and an individual through the lens of “The Magic Hours,” finding his persona more relatable once stripped of the enigmatic veil maintained by media coverage.
As he cites one of Malick’s colleagues: “We truly thought each day at work that our aim was to revolutionize the cinematic language.”
“Terrence Malick: His Hidden Life and Film Works” by John Bleasdale is out now.
