Whatever else The Color Of Time represents, it was certainly a golden opportunity for the filmmakers involved. But as to whether golden opportunities are the sort of thing that merits exposure to an audience, well…
Perhaps to start, we’d be well served to offer up a cast list for the film in question: James Franco, Mila Kunis, Jessica Chastain, Zach Braff, Bruce Campbell…
At this point, I’d imagine there are people reading this who saw the cast of the film, which is mighty impressive, and wondered, “What’s the catch?”
Well, first, the fact that it’s called The Color Of Time could possibly be considered something of a red flag…
The Color Of Time is a collaborative effort between producer/star James Franco and twelve of the graduate students from the class he taught at the Tisch School of the Arts. It is based on the poetry of Pulitzer Prize winner CK Williams.
Yes, this is literally a student film. One with a pedigree far more impressive than the average, certainly, but a student film all the same. Which, in some ways, makes it unfair to judge the movie by the standards to which most movies are held.
But on the other hand, once you go wide release, you’re pretty much saying you’re fit for mass consumption.
As a piece of art, there’s nothing here that your average audience member couldn’t handle.
Which, ironically enough, turns out to be precisely the problem.
The Color Of Time consists of a series of vignettes spotlighting CK Williams at various points during his life. From childhood to his teenage days, to that period in every man’s life when he becomes James Franco, to old age. Scattered fragments of a poet’s life, adding up to…I don’t know. Poetic shit, I suppose.
With twelve different hands involved in the making of this film, there’s a surprising (and slightly disappointing) conformity of style.
And that style is “Full Malick.”
Apparently in the default mode for movies based on poets, there’s a lot of floating camerawork, sun-dappled frolicking, ethereal voice overs, dreamlike editing, and ambient tones.
And if you’re wondering if there’s a dying horse…Yes. Yes, there is.
Hell, they even got Jessica Chastain to basically reprise her role as the Cosmic Mother from Tree Of Life…
It’s well done, as far as these things go, but in a way it’s also kind of a letdown.
Now, I don’t want to get all Old Man on y’all, but in my day, student films were weird, and pretentious, and obscure. Roses would become wolves, howling into the void; flowing rivers would be edited into subliminal imagery; stock footage of the Berlin Wall falling would be intercut with skateboarders and gospel singers while an unseen narrator quoted excerpts from Pablo Neruda; women would get naked because they were told that this would be “Art.”
They could be obscure, annoying, awful, or just plain wrong-headed.
But however wide of the mark they were, at least they were trying to push the boundaries.
The Color Of Time, one supposes, could be considered pretentious. But it’s pretentious in a way that’s kind of standard at this point.
With the freedom provided by the resources and protective umbrella of James Franco, these twelve aspiring filmmakers could have done anything. They could have gotten really, really weird with it.
The fact that this is a film I could very easily see as playing at a Landmark Theater (and audiences probably will) almost seems like a failure of nerve to me.
Granted, there are a few moments that try to capture something or seem new and experimental. Foremost among these is a scene intercutting Franco getting a haircut with roofers pouring tar on an adjacent building. And while it’s not particularly experimental, the sequence where a teenaged Williams and a friend visit a prostitute to lose their virginity is both deeply sad and extremely creepy. Those and a few other scenes made me feel something other than “Gee, I guess it takes twelve dudes to make one Terence Malick.”
But overall, it seems like a lost opportunity.
Frankly, this is one of those instances where a behind the scenes documentary would have been far more interesting than the finished product. An in-depth look at the communal and highly collaborative process used to create this movie (true to their apparent ethos, the credits refuse to clarify who did what) could have been a fascinating look at how a disparate group of creatives find a way to unify their visions into a singular piece. Instead, we have something that, as well made and well acted as it is, could have come from just about anywhere.
A student film shouldn’t be forced to be held to this level of public scrutiny; it should be a safe space where aspiring artists feel free to chase their muse wherever it goes. I admire James Franco; I respect the big name actors who gave of their time to help out and didn’t phone it in. And I definitely think there’s some huge potential in this team of creators.
But in the end, this is one hell of a weird way to help them find their voice…
