With this change in weather comes a lot of good and fun things, the least of which being the new East River Ferry. I took up the city’s offer of a free ride; an hour of waiting, a riot barely averted, and an awkward suntan later, a lucky few boarded the woozy ferry for the gratis joyride only to be dumped out to a non-operational bus along the east side highway.

A couple hours and a few dozen blocks later, a friend and I made a decision to check out Terrence Malick’s latest The Tree of Life, where yet another hour long trek through non-operational trains finally spit us out into SoHo. Post-traumatic subway anxiety had kicked in, and an overly visually stimulated Tanya found comfort in the probability that, like previous Malick films, a slow and quiet experience was on the horizon.

What I did not expect was a 20 minute cosmic and prehistoric interlude partially into the film. I have to admit that if 75% of that was cut out, I would have enjoyed the movie exponentially more. I still thoroughly appreciated the peaceful and beautiful journey Malick took us all on, but I just kept thinking that if I was watching this at home I would have likely fast-forwarded through the cosmos back into real time.

The most pleasurable experience for me was as I lay to sleep and my mind ran rampant with imagery and inspiration. In an oneiric suspension, between my tossing and turning, new projects came to and excited my restless neurotransmitters. That was when the beauty of the film struck me and I was thankful to have looked past the unduly affectionate couple seated in front of me and patiently sat through the vision Malick set out to share. Thanks old man, you’ve done it again.         

20 June 1