Song to Song



I’ve always been fond of the word “stultifying,” but have seldom had the perfect opportunity to use it. Now I have… although in its adverbial form: “Song to Song” is the most stultifyingly boring movie I’ve ever seen. Imagine sitting through a two-and-a-half hour Vogue fashion shoot with the most beautiful and vapid of models, and you’ll pretty much get the idea. If there were an actual plot, I’d tell you about it, but there isn’t one. Closest I can come is “two gorgeous youngish men, vaguely associated with the rock music world, moon about over assorted gorgeous young women who lean against glass doors and moan endlessly about their lack of freedom.” Freedom from what I never figured out, as the dialog is monosyllabic and inane. Terence Malick glues his camera relentlessly to expressionless high-cheek-boned faces, with only occasional shifts to bare midriffs, Architectural Digest houses and his favorite symbolism: sweeping flights of birds. How he managed to persuade Patti Smith and Cate Blanchett to participate in this pretentious turkey of a movie, I can’t fathom — but they provide the only sparks of life in the whole darn thing.

Sally Pope



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