by Rod Machen
Voyage of Time is a painting, a poem, and in this version, a fulfillment of the promise of what an large-format movie can be. Director Terrence Malick has crafted a compact epic on the nature of nature.
Part science film, part meditation on life, being, and even existence, Voyage of Time drips with candy for the eye and an exploration of, well, everything.
Starting off in deepest space, the film visualizes ideas that are usually the province of university lecture halls on cosmology and astrophysics. It soon moves to earth, where paleobiology and a host of other life sciences take over, showing the transition from single-cell bacteria to Homo erectus and Neanderthals. In between, little kids run around fields and front yards in Austin, Texas, precocious and full of wonderment.
Through it all, Brad Pitt narrates, using a series of questions and observations that are part and parcel of Malick’s work. While it is effective, this voiceover work pales in comparison to that of Jim Caviezel’s yearning queries about the nature of good and evil in A Thin Red Line.
Audiences in Austin (and a select few other cities worldwide) are in for a special treat. The Bullock Museum just finished upgrading its IMAX theatre with new dual 4K laser projectors, for a stunning visual experience. A new 12-channel audio system completes the upgrades. It’s the perfect marriage of form and content when these projectors are used to bring Malick’s newest creation to life.
A 35mm version of Voyage of Time will be released in the future, to be narrated by Cate Blanchett with an extended length of 90 minutes to the IMAX’s tight 40. For now, the film will remain a specialty offering for the biggest of the big screens only.
The real beauty of Voyage of Time lies in its soft edges, its insistence on not getting slowed down by specificity. The vivid depictions of stars or grass or early humans are presented simply but with great care. The result is a completely immersive experience that transcends usual museum fare as well as typical Hollywood releases in exchange for something that can be viewed again and again, each time with a greater appreciation for the depth of the subject being explored, expansive as the cosmos and as deep as the ocean blue.
