Terrance Malick's "The Tree of Life" has found its way to my fireplace mantle. It sits there, along side photos of the most important moments - and people - in my life. This is appropriate, since the film, itself, is a survey of such things, delivered with a deluge of profound beauty.
Although it's narrative structure, snapping back and forth between past and present, between memory and imagination, bears little resemblance to cinematic convention, it does resemble our narratives within - facts commingled with fictions, emotions, fears, regrets. It also answers questions that few dare to ask themselves: the hows, the whys.
For those confused by the experience, I'll offer one bit of guidance on the cinematic agenda at hand: listen carefully to the elevator rides.