I thought that I learned more about the characters in the TTRL through the flashbacks and internal monologue than any of the stereotypically clichéd characters in Saving Private Ryan, and while the so-called story might have been thin, I wouldn't call it 'bad'.
Good visuals impress me, things like natural light, non-CG action, conservative use of screen smoke, and backlighting are all really hard to get right. The best parts of movies like 2001 and Apocalypse Now, or Schindler's List in my mind are the parts where nothing is said for minutes at a time.
Malick and his DPs do it better than anyone, and he constructs stories that are more akin to poetry rather than prose. The cool thing is that just by watching five minutes of one of his movies you can see his style, and tell you're in a Malick movie. It reminds me of how you can tell you're in a Robert Altman movie just by the little things like the crosstalk between different character conversations. It's his style, and it's not for everyone, but I can see why people call him a genius because in many ways, what he does with the camera is genius. But people are also aware of his shortcomings as a filmmaker when it comes to budget and schedule. I think it took him something like three years to edit Days of Heaven, which is ridiculous.
I thought it odd that you mentioned hating Malick films, just because he's not clogging up the theater with a new film every other year. In fact I think he's only directed four or five films in the past 40 years.
I'm looking forward to The Tree of Life, not just because it was filmed nearby in central Texas, but because looking at the previews I can tell that it will be something beautiful to look at.
“Film can be whatever you make of it”
Can’t really argue with that, but I’m just gonna say, “No.”
“it’s primarily a visual art more than a narrative one”
While it is true that non-narrative films exist. Random images have been strung together for extended periods of time without any intention for them to be interpreted as telling a story. However, the sort of films that people actually go see, the ones people care about, the ones that live on as more than elaborate but disposable art projects, the ones that are usually up for Oscars, have stories.
The Thin Red Line is supposed to be one of those movies, obviously. It has a well known background with a story of its own (Guadalcanal), characters, dialogue, and various scenes and sequences which, when you ignore how they’re supposed to fiot together as a whole, do actually tell a story. I understand why Malick’s unorthodox style of delivering the story appeals to people. No one wants every movie experience to be the same. And expecially if the visuals are inarguably masterful, what an opportunity to praise something different.
Except it’s not just different. It’s bad. It tells the story badly. As proof I offer my complete inability to remember what the story was. No point arguing now that film isn’t a narrative medium, since as we know, and as I’ve demonstrated, this particular movie was supposed to tell a story of some sort.
Now, it never would be my position that every movie has to be the same. And certainly, plenty of directors have gotten away scott free from having to follow every conventional rule of storytelling. I’m not saying Hitchcock, Tarantino, Lynch, Peckinpah, P.T. Anderson, or John Waters should have been exiled from the industry. What I am saying is that Malick is a particular offender. Much worse than most, in that not only do his movies break storytelling conventions, they barely even have stories.
By the way, there’s a popular saying that movies should tell a story with pictures, not words. I agree. Mostly, that is. There’s nothing wrong with some exposition. Anyway, the point is even that dictum appreciates that the story is the important thing. It only argues over the best means of presenting a story, not whether or not a story should be told.
“I thought that I learned more about the characters in the TTRL through the flashbacks and internal monologue than any of the stereotypically clichéd characters in Saving Private Ryan”
If Cusack (the green young officer), Nolte (the calous, egotistic, battle-hardened commander), and Caviezel (the stranger in a strange land cloudlander) weren’t clichéd I’ll eat my hat. And when you say you learned about the characters, I suppose I should say that my previous criticism about The Thin Red Line’s characterization is not so much that they are poorly drawn. They are not cyphers, nor are they impenetrable. Indeed, the moment Caviezel, Cusack, or Nolte (for instance) come on screen you know exactly what to expect.
No, my problem is in the character development, or lackthereof. This relates back to the lack of plot. I couldn’t say that they weren’t at all developed. To the film’s credit among some, it is done in, again, an unorthodox manner. That is, mostly by staring at scenery (once again, Malick’s strength). We think we know them when all is over because we’ve heard voice-overs and seen flashbacks that look like fabric softener commercials.
The problem for me is that they’re not developed in a dramatically compelling manner. Nor in a particularly comprehensible manner, by which I mean in a manner through which the audience can afterwards look back and realize why they did what they did, and what it was that changed about them. Somehow grass blowing in the wind and white puffy clouds don’t accomplish as much as characters coming into conflict with eachother or outside elements. Occasionally drama occurs, as in what stands for me as the most memorable scene. That is, when Nolte yells at Cusack. Other things happen, but mostly nothing happens.
By the way, comparing them to the characters in Saving Private Ryan is bad form. No one—or not me, at least—ever said that was a paragon of dramatic virtue. It will be remembered as the great war movie from ‘98. But that’s for the striking opening sequence; relaunching the WWII genre; and the influential gritty, shakey-cam psuedo-documentary style. Only two characters were dramatically compelling: Tom Hanks, for being genuinely mysterious; and Jeremy Davies, who despite my wanting to punch him in the face actually changed as a person during the movie. So did Ryan himself at the end, I suppose. But he was so disappointing and superfluous (as a character, not a plot device) up to that point that I’d rather forget him.
Aside from those two, Saving Private Ryan was comprised of cardboard cutouts, yes. However, it wasn’t a character-driven story. It was plot-driven. Unlike The Thin Red Line, it had plot to spare, and that’s basically why people preferred it. There was a clear goal from the beginning, with plenty of self-contained adventures in the middle. once they got to Ryan the plot shifted, but the importance of bridges had been previously established. As had the group’s continuing responsiblity to the rest of the army, as demonstrated in earlier assault on the machine gun nest.
It was basically the same plot in the third act anyway, in that they went on protecting Ryan. And not just Ryan, but the U.S. war effort, Free Europe, and Democracy, which made it all the more dramatic. There’s nothing approaching that in The Thin Red Line. We don’t even get an inkling what Guadalcanal is about, for pete’s sake.
Saving Private Ryan had its flaws, most notably the weird “FUBAR”/”what the heck are we fighting for?” theme. This was supposedly answered by the figure of Ryan, whose safe journey home was supposed to secure their safe journey home. So the point of the war was to get home? You’re fighting against Nazis, isn’t that enough? At some point, though, Ryan wasn’t the what they’re fighting for. Because they abandoned—or at least gravely risked—his safety to protect the bridge. But then he was their reason again, because Tom Hanks said “Earn this,” and Ryan asked his family if he’s a good man. Idiot, Tom Hanks didn’t die for you, he died for the bridge! What the heck is going on?
As you can see, at least there’s something to argue about with Private Ryan. The plot, characters, and theme were confused, but at least they were interacting. With The Thin Red Line, I can perhaps say Nolte was too much of a hard ass and Caviezel had his head too much in the clouds. But, again, that’s superficial. If only they had done things, things which did or didn’t hold together to make a whole movie, I could talk about them more.