Terrence Malick, a name synonymous with visually stunning and narratively unconventional cinema, delivered Song to Song in 2017, a film that further cements his status as a cinematic poet. Much like revisiting a classic, sprawling double album where not every track is a chart-topper but the overall sonic landscape is captivating, Song to Song offers a rich, if at times fragmented, experience. For those accustomed to Malick’s recent filmography, particularly works like To the Wonder and Knight of Cups, Song to Song continues his exploration of sensory cinema, prioritizing fleeting moments and emotional resonance over traditional plot structures.
Rooney Mara and Ryan Gosling in Song to Song
Malick’s post-Thin Red Line era, especially since The Tree of Life, has been characterized by a move towards what some might perceive as cinematic fugues – an abundance of evocative imagery and sound, sometimes at the expense of a clear, linear narrative. In Song to Song and its predecessors, it’s as if Malick is offering a collection of “songs” rather than a straightforward story. These cinematic songs are composed of encounters with both the natural and artificial worlds, reflections on spirituality and purpose, and improvisational glimpses into love and everyday life. The result is a holistic “sound” – an immersive atmosphere – that takes precedence over conventional character arcs and plot progression.
It is fitting then that Song to Song unfolds within the vibrant Austin music scene, a world of bustling music festivals, intimate backstage moments, and a soundtrack featuring artists ranging from Die Antwoord to Bob Dylan. The film is peppered with cameos from musical icons like Iggy Pop, John Lydon, and members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, adding to its authentic musical backdrop. Patti Smith’s presence is particularly poignant, lending emotional depth as she reflects on wearing her wedding ring after the passing of her husband, Fred “Sonic” Smith. The central characters are deeply embedded in this world, striving to live “from song to song,” shaping their lives according to the transient yet powerful emotions evoked by music.
Similar to To the Wonder and Knight of Cups, Song to Song presents a simple underlying narrative framework enveloped in an almost indescribable stylistic approach. We are introduced to BV (Ryan Gosling) and Faye (Rooney Mara), aspiring songwriters who find themselves entangled in a complex relationship web initiated by Cook (Michael Fassbender), a charismatic and manipulative music industry mogul. Cook, in a portrayal bordering on Mephistophelean, not only exploits BV professionally but also romantically pursues Rhonda (Natalie Portman), a waitress, leading her down a path of self-destruction masked by superficial indulgence. The romantic relationships are as fluid and transient as the music that permeates their lives; BV and Faye’s relationship fractures due to Faye’s entanglement with Cook, they explore other connections, and eventually find their way back to each other.
Song to Song appears to conclude what could be termed Malick’s ‘Weightless Trilogy,’ a thematic grouping with To the Wonder and Knight of Cups, alluding to the film’s original working title, Weightless. These films share a common thread: characters in pursuit of spiritual fulfillment through love, set against the backdrop of a distinctly modern, often alienating world. This contemporary setting, first glimpsed in The Tree of Life, is visually represented by opulent modern architecture and sleek surfaces. While retaining Malick’s signature shots of natural beauty and expansive horizons, these films also incorporate the visual language of the digital age – computer screens, phone cameras, and the pulsating lights of nightclubs, reflecting a world saturated with stimuli. Sex is a recurring motif, portrayed both as a potential pathway to Edenic bliss and as a form of escapism in a technology-driven era. In this sense, Malick’s trilogy echoes Antonioni’s exploration of alienation in his “Eros is sick” trilogy. However, while Antonioni’s films often concluded with a sense of existential disappearance, Malick’s trilogy ultimately leans towards reaffirmation and redemption through forgiveness.
Val Kilmer destroying a guitar amp in Song to Song
Despite this potentially saccharine undercurrent, Song to Song, like its trilogy partners, challenges viewers on nearly every level of cinematic convention. These films exist at the fringes of mainstream narrative, offering impressionistic fragments of character and story woven together through a dense network of audio-visual cues. The logic is more akin to poetry and visual association than linear storytelling. However, it’s not all high-minded abstraction. Song to Song contains moments of unexpected humor, such as Val Kilmer’s anarchic destruction of a guitar amplifier on stage – a surreal interlude that disrupts the film’s emotional flow and offers a darkly comedic counterpoint to BV and Faye’s relationship struggles. The film’s editing further contributes to this sense of disorientation and exhilaration, with jarring transitions and disorienting camera movements. From his early, more conventional work like Badlands, Malick has progressively pushed formal boundaries, using cinematic language to explore profound emotional and spiritual themes.
Song to Song marks a slight shift within this recent phase of Malick’s work. While maintaining its stylistic extremity, it seems to offer moments of respite from the relentless montage. For perhaps the first time since The Tree of Life, Malick allows conversations to unfold more fully. Scenes like BV’s mother’s blunt assessments of his relationships provide brief grounding in more conventional storytelling. There are even stretches of silence, a rarity in Malick’s recent films, previously filled with his signature voiceover narration. This may offer a more accessible entry point for some viewers, providing “breathing room” within Malick’s immersive style. While the sensory overload of Knight of Cups might be preferred by some, Song to Song offers a slightly greater emphasis on character development and performance. One recurring critique of the trilogy is the reliance on repetitive imagery of couples gazing longingly at each other, a motif that loses impact without deeper insight into their interactions. Malick paints impressions of love, lust, and grief, but these impressions occasionally veer into generality. In Song to Song, we see relatively little of the characters’ musical creation or the emotional numbness Faye experiences. The philosophical voiceovers, while sometimes insightful, can also flatten into platitudes, balancing moments of simple beauty with stretches of vagueness.
Yet, as with Dinosaur Jr.’s albums, Song to Song is “not all hits.” Within its expansive and sometimes uneven texture lie artistic ambiguities that provoke thought and repeated viewing. A scene where BV and Faye cautiously observe each other in a bedroom, accompanied by a voiceover about shifting dynamics and suspicion, is juxtaposed with a fleeting shot of a joyous music festival crowd. This juxtaposition raises questions: Is the crowd a symbolic link to Cook, representing Faye’s career ambitions and morally compromised choices? Or does it evoke the earlier joy and harmony BV and Faye once shared through music and love?
These are questions without easy answers, and it is in this ambiguity that Song to Song‘s strength lies. The fact that Malick, even in what might be considered a more “minor” work compared to the grand scope of The New World and The Tree of Life, continues to provoke and innovate speaks to his enduring artistic relevance. His art dares to be strange and surprising in its pursuit of beauty. Looking back, this period of Malick’s career, including Song to Song 2017, will likely be recognized for its daring innovation and unique contribution to contemporary cinema.
