"War" by Calvin Klein.

Rating: 1/10 (8 February 1999)

Ooh, he's juxtaposing pretty flowers and the horrors of war! How deep, how original! I've heard many people spout off about the genius of Terrence Malick, but after seeing this film (which, admittedly, is the only one of his I've seen), I'm left wondering what all these people are talking about. The Thin Red Line is full of very beautiful, very hackneyed images, as well as cliched characters and predictable "twists." If the middle hour had been the entirety of the film, maybe it would have been halfway decent, but the film is over three hours and I was threatening to jump off the theater balcony halfway through. This movie never ends. Ever. It just drones on and on and on with pretty images and then ugly images.
I wanted to scream every time one of those inane voice-overs began (and there are hundreds of them). Apparently, no matter how gruff, vulgar, and rural a character sounds when they speak, they all think like Renaissance poets. If you really admire those cologne ads where a woman runs along a beach in fuzzy focus while an anonymous man waxes poetic about how the two are one, or how he drinks her in, etc., then you may like this film. If, however, you, like me, enjoy a discernible plot in a movie, bring a pillow and a blanket.
I want to make two things clear: (A) I blame none of this on the actors, who for the most part did fine work. (B) I do not dislike art movies. I really enjoy good ones. The Thin Red Line is not good. It was the most excruciating movie-going experience I've had in years. And just to illustrate, here's a completely true fact: There were seventeen people in the theater when the movie started. Seven walked out before the film ended. I wish I'd made it eight.