The visual structure, content and style of The Tree of Life are dumber than a bag of hammers. It took five editors including Daniel Rezende to piece together this patchwork. When it requires the services of so many minds, it begs the question: what movie were they watching? My experience viewing Terrence Malick’s fifth feature can be looked at in one of two ways: boredom and frustration.

The promising trailer depicts the film as a situational drama. It’s a drama alright -- but without the situation. Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain are parents; their three young boys play around and work to the strict regimen overseen by the father. Then the film stops, or more specifically, cuts to black (a trick that Malick employs often). Quite inexplicably, images of planets and volcanic eruptions seen from space engulf the frame. The film eventually gets around to the subject of dinosaurs, although they are a mere curiosity when measured against the whole.

Malick’s chief concern is cinematography -- only not the kind that informs the audience or tells a story. As the film concludes, its art house intentions brew to the surface. However, The Tree of Life hardly fits the bill as art. It’s too regimented; its visuals come off as rather polished, but so much so that it seems arbitrary. Cameraman Emmanuel Lubezki has impressed me before, namely with his original boxing footage for Ali (2001). In The Tree of Life, the mouth hardly waters over the sight of butterflies. His focusing seems tight but some awkward framing devices tend to undermine any sort of hard work on display. So-so images last longer than necessary while good ones are cut too short. One shot of a bridge goes on and on. It makes me feel like picking up the scissors and doing some editing myself.

The performances border on the ethereal but meander under Malick’s wandering direction. Brad Pitt seems sorely miscast as well as underused in a role any number of actors could play. Quite simply, there’s no challenge in this “strict dad” part. As for Jessica Chastain, she floats between emotional indifference and grief. With a script this deadpan weird, her work becomes eclipsed by a shadowy voice-over which follows her every movement. Sean Penn also has a reason not to be happy -- the purpose of his character remains murky throughout.   

Somewhere between the family drama and the creation of the universe, you will find little semblance of meaning here. Malick’s propensity for storytelling carries the same weight of expectation one should have about my love for football. Both are non-existent. I care little for the game because it lacks any novelty value; Malick shows scant appreciation about the plot due to an innate fascination with colourful shapes and lighting schemes. Clearly, he loves natural light. He always has ever since Badlands (1973) and Days of Heaven (1978). If one good thing can be said about The Tree of Life, it’s that the director has consistently kept his love of nature in the foreground.

(Released by Fox Searchlight Pictures and rated "PG-13" for some thematic material.)