This film is 2 hours and 20 minutes of slow-paced wank. Terrence Malick should be compelled to provide lube.

It would be unfair to say that this film is not art. However, I feel totally justified in saying that it's bad art. It's the film equivalent of those framed pictures you see in flea markets, with whales rising under a sunbeam or a huge wave breaking over a lighthouse. Stunning visuals, rich colours, no artistic integrity at all.

The dialogue is deliberately muted throughout, as if it's secondary to the soporific visuals. There's a very intrusive narration track as well, which is entirely whispered for some reason. The soundtrack is nicely choral, and makes you feel like you're sitting in a church during an overlong sermon. Basically, the film would be more enjoyable with the sound turned off.

In fact, I'm strongly of the opinion that this isn't really a film at all, in the traditional sense. It's a screen saver for people who cross-stitch and own cats.