In 1978, Terrence Malick was regarded as one of the most promising newcomers in Hollywood. His sophomore film
Days of Heaven
was a pure masterpiece following his outstanding 1973 first album
Badlands
. Malick had endless possibilities for his next project. However, as the Hollywood legend suggests, he vanished instead.

After a remarkable two-decade absence, Malick resurfaced with his third movie on the big screen.
The Thin Red Line
Today, this mysterious director has become highly productive. From 2011 to 2019, they produced six movies. This marks quite a shift from the long gap between their second and third features.

Yet even with the increased output, Malick has remained unknowable. He gave his last interview in 1979 to French newspaper Le Monde. He’s since never given a direct quote to the press and the only picture he’s allowed to be released is a grainy promotional shot of him directing
The Thin Red Line
.

The scene is illuminated by the warm glow of late afternoon. That magical time. His father, Emil Malick, captured this moment. Despite their disagreements, Terry continued to see himself through his dad’s perspective,” states the biography accompanying the image. This excerpt appears midway through the book and encapsulates much of John Bleasdale’s significant challenge: offering an understanding of both Malick’s human side and his distinctive style within the film industry.

“The Magic Hours: The Films and Hidden Life of Terrence Malick” offers an extensive look at the filmmaker’s journey, showcasing thorough investigative work through detailed exploration of the challenges involved in leading large teams both in front of and behind the lens. Bleasdale enriches this narrative with excerpts from newspapers, insights from fellow workers, and his individual reflections on Malick’s body of work.

This marks the first time Malick has been biographied. Consequently, an important query arises about whether Bleasdale managed to secure direct access to Malick. Although he readily mentions discussions with longtime associates including production designer Jack Fisk and actors such as Sean Penn, he dismisses the idea of having spent significant time with Malick by stating they only exchanged “very courteous emails.”

However, “The Magic Hours” explores more aspects of Malick’s private life than any previous individual source. Can we confirm whether any of these details come directly from him, despite not being explicitly attributed to him? The most I can gather from Bleasdale is, “If they did, I wouldn’t be able to disclose that.”

While the detailed biography of Malick’s career is fascinating—especially the part about his challenging period known as the wilderness years, during which his difficult times with producers Bobby Geisler and John Roberdeau fueled creative inspiration—the focus here will be elsewhere.
Knight of Cups
– The most compelling parts of the book delve into how Malick’s personal life intertwined with his professional journey.

Bleasdale’s biography portrays Malick as an affable and highly likable individual, equally inclined towards lighthearted banter and profound existential contemplation. Despite acknowledging his introverted nature, this depiction helps dispel the myths perpetuating the image of him as a recluse in Hollywood.

As these legends are dispelled, details regarding Malick’s domestic life come to light. His strained connection with his father, the absence of his siblings, and his romantic experiences all inform Bleasdale’s interpretations of his movies and how they correlate with their respective release periods.

“He observes that tragic brothers and troubled fathers recur throughout his films.” However, even though aspects of his marriage to Michèle Monette shed some light on these themes.
To The Wonder
Bleasdale makes it evident that his body of work is not merely concealed autobiography.

I believe he strongly wishes to conceal his personal life,” Bleasdale states. Similar to how his philosophical background and interest in spirituality frequently provide entry points into interpreting Malick’s work, Bleasdale argues this approach might be misguided. “He likely believes that if people view these elements as the ultimate keys to understanding all his films, they may miss out on truly engaging with the movies and discovering their own meanings.

If Malick deliberately avoids public attention in an effort akin to Barthes’ ‘Death of the Author,’ aiming to prevent his personal life from overshadowing viewers’ interpretation of his movies, wouldn’t a biography contradict his creative intentions? Bleasdale suggests this might be a misinterpretation of Malick’s distance from media exposure.

Bleasdale states, “He will never pick up this book.” According to him, “He previously mentioned he’d avoid therapy as it would drain his energy. Instead of delving into himself through interviews, he prefers exploring within his films.”

Similar to his AFI classmate David Lynch’s well-known reluctance to explain the meanings behind his movies, Malick’s focus regarding his public persona is solely on his films.

Engaging with these films, be it through a post-screening discussion or even reading a biography about them, allows his works to become part of our world. “Ideally, any book connected to cinema should encourage readers to revisit the movies and appreciate them in greater depth,” explains Bleasdale.

“The Magic Hours” lives up to this expectation. It fully immerses itself in how Malick integrates his personal story into a filmmaking approach that elevates the genre. The fact that it accomplishes this with Malick’s most controversial works is even more remarkable compared to when dealing with his well-loved movies. As Bleasdale outlines in his section on
To The Wonder
There is much more to his approach to filmmaking than just the apparent link between the story and his second wife.

It’s strange. The film is ostensibly autobiographical, yet it’s entirely narrated through Marina’s [Olga Kurylenko] perspective. Ben Affleck only has around three lines throughout the entire movie. It primarily focuses on her character alongside Javier Bardem playing a roving priest.” According to Bleasdale, Malick remains creatively innovative even when delving into personal stories. “An autobiography doesn’t always mean exposing one’s innermost feelings; instead, it can be about attempting to understand others’ viewpoints we’ve encountered in our lives. This approach is quite magnanimous.

If Malick’s initial trio of films were regarded as masterpieces and his fifth – which was equally autobiographical –
The Tree of Life
solidified his comeback with the Palme d’Or at Cannes and Academy Award nominations; however, his subsequent movies have mostly faced criticism for being tedious and aimlessly spiritual, with visuals reminiscent of a perfume commercial.

Bleasdale contends that despite being his most indirect works, they still carry an avant-garde artistic essence which continues to influence cinema just as much as his previous productions have.

Out of Malick’s seven movies produced in this century, five were shot by cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (known as Chivo). Their collaboration has shaped a distinctive visual style that characterizes their work together.

Over Chivo’s debut collaboration with Malick on his first film,
The New World
, they established a “dogma” for filming that involved utilizing “natural available light,” strictly prohibiting underexposure, along with other guidelines that disallowed zooms and advised against pans and tilts in favor of movements “along the z-axis.” This set of rules has become characteristic of Malick’s films—sometimes even bordering on caricature—but these techniques have also seeped into mainstream contemporary cinema. Chivo earned his third Academy Award for his contribution to this project.
The Revenant
, a movie featuring distinct bear claw marks inspired by Malick’s work.

Bleasdale identifies several films and directors that clearly show the impact of Malick’s work. Notably, he points to those directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.
There Will Be Blood
and
The Master
have a clear debt to Malick’s period pieces. On last year’s
Oppenheimer
,” You won’t find that type of editing with two scenes split throughout the entire film; instead, most of the narrative relies on individual shots rather than complete scenes, excluding ‘The Tree of Life.’ This also applies to one of this year’s Best Picture nominees.”
Nickel Boys
is “totally
The Tree of Life
in its technique of montage and use of subjective camera work.

If his creations do not appeal to a general audience, it’s because they push boundaries by “experimenting with storytelling techniques” in film, according to Bleasdale. The aim remains to narrate tales that resonate with audiences through innovative approaches.

As someone not previously inclined towards Malick, reading “The Magic Hours,” Bleasdale presents a compelling case for appreciating Malick both as a director and an individual, portraying him as more relatable when stripped of the enigmatic veil maintained by the media.

As he cites one of Malick’s collaborators: “When we started our day at work, we truly thought we were endeavoring to redefine the cinematic language.”

“The Magic Hours: The Films and Secret Life of Terrence Malick,” authored by John Bleasdale, is out now.