What is this love that loves us?
That’s the question of Terrance
Malick’s extraordinary and extraordinarily ethereal new film, “To the Wonder.”
Marina, the main character and
narrator, asks, “What is this love that loves us . . . that comes from nowhere,
from all around?” But it’s really Malick’s film that is asking this
question—and more than asking. Answering.
“To the Wonder” is an exploration, a
celebration, a tribute to the wonder of love.
And love is a wonder. A mystery. A
grace. A gift.
The lost and lonely priest of the
film says, “Love is not just a feeling. Love is a duty.”
“To the Wonder” boldly and lyrically
explores the complexities of love in all its forms. Parisian single mother
Marina (Olga Kurylenko) and Midwestern tourist Neil (Ben Affleck) fall madly in
love in France and relocate to Oklahoma with Marina’s young daughter to start a
life together. As their relationship wanes and her visa nears expiration,
Marina makes the acquaintance of a priest and fellow exile (Javier Bardem) who
is struggling with his faith, while Neil renews a relationship with his
childhood sweetheart, Jane (Rachel McAdams).
“To the Wonder” is more a meditation
than a movie. It has next to no narrative. Very little dialog. Precious few
scenes. Unlike traditional story, but very much like life and love, it has no
discernible beginning, middle, and end. Except, of course, the beginning of
being born and born again in loving and being loved. “Newborn,” Marina says. “I
open my eyes. I melt . . . into the eternal light. A spark . . . I fall into
the flame.”
“To the Wonder” captures the dreamlike state
of love, of faith, of spirituality, of life itself when lived ecstatically. “In love two are one,” Marina says. This is
the belonging we all long for, the connection we crave, the unity some part of
us remembers and knows we’re meant for.
Malick’s dream is told mostly in
images with very few words. Here love is a look, a gesture, a touch, and we
(through Malick’s camera) are right beside the lovers, at their side, not so
much voyeurs as witnesses, nearly participants.
But why does Marina keep looking
over her shoulder? What’s she looking at? For?
Think about how our all too
unreliable memories work. We think in pictures. We remember mostly in images
and a smattering of words spoken in ecstasy or anger.
“To the Wonder” is nearly a silent
film and the silence shows the wordlessness of love and joining, the union that
transcends verbalization, but it also shows the other kind of silence, the kind
which allows for projection and misunderstanding and that which is ultimately
isolating.
In Mass the priest exhorts his
parishioners to “Awaken the love, the divine presence that is in every man and
woman.” Malick’s deeply, profoundly spiritual film does the same.
In one of his many (or is it just
one) profound homilies, the priest says, “To commit yourself is to run the risk
of failure, the risk of betrayal, but the man who makes a mistake can repent.”
And Malick’s lovers do just that—fail and betray in big and small ways like all
lovers do. The priest no less than Marina and Neil.
But love survives. And transforms.
“You fear your love has died,” the
priest says. “It is perhaps waiting to be transformed into something higher.”
We fail love. Love doesn’t fail us.
And so for his final words on the
subject, his benediction if you will, Malick has Marina utter this simple
sacred prayer, “Love that loves us. Thank you.”
