Terrence Malick is a director who knows exactly what he wants to do and has always made sure to get it done his way, regardless of how audiences reacted. His career has been truly enigmatic – his breaks between films can either be decades or a matter of months, without any middle-ground. He has also made films that could be considered some of the greatest ever made, as well as some of the most excruciating. I have always been lukewarm on Malick for this reason alone – his work is either brilliant or unbearable, and his aloof personality, while fascinating, doesn’t necessarily facilitate much appreciation for his work. However, the work of his I do adore, such as Badlands, are magnificent achievements that stand the test of time and do their part in confirming Malick as an essential filmmaker, someone whose work shows no boundaries and can defy conventions in sometimes unexpected ways. This is the precise reason behind the success of A Hidden Life, the director’s most recent foray into the ethereal matters of the soul, taking on another true-life storyline, which implores him to once again descend into the gorgeous recesses of spirituality, once again proving himself to be someone with a particular set of quirks that are very often parodied, but work exceptionally well in the context of this film, which could easily come to be regarded as one of the most fascinating achievements in war cinema, especially because it goes against nearly every rule set out by previous films, even those directed by Malick himself.

Based on the life of Franz Jägerstätter, A Hidden Life sees Malick once again looking at more metaphysical subjects. Franz was a humble farmer in the small Austrian village of Radegund at the outbreak of the Second World War. Like all of his compatriots, Franz has to take an oath of loyalty of Adolf Hitler. However, a devout Roman Catholic, and someone vehemently against this war, he makes it known how he objects to the violence that his nation is involved in, and refuses to pledge allegiance to a man who is provoking it. This noble act is naturally met with great resistance from those around him, with many of his fellow Germans trying to convince him that speaking out against Hitler is a poor decision – however, Franz is steadfast in his conviction that he will not bring any more violence into the world. He is willing to face the consequences of such defiance, which ultimately ends up in him being labelled a criminal, and sent to prison where he is to face the punishment normally associated with those who engage in treason, which is almost exactly what he is soon seen as, a subject held in such disdain by the fiercely patriotic citizens who don’t see the moral turpitude this war is inflicting on the country and the rest of the world. Franz sees his death on the horizon – he realizes that very few people will ever agree with him, and will try and punish his defiance with the ultimate silencing. Yet, he never fights against it – he is willing to die for his cause, never choosing to bow down to the beliefs of a political ideology he refuses to align himself with, for the sake of his own moral standing.

A Hidden Life is something of a change for Malick – it isn’t particularly different from what we’d expect from him, featuring the same ethereal subject matter and explorations of the human condition that most of his recent films have featured. However, its also a return to his much earlier work, namely in the presence of one quality that most of his films since his recent revival have been lacking: a script. Malick approaches the story of Franz Jägerstätter in a more linear way, working from a coherent storyline and thus abandoning much of what made his more recent work either beloved or reviled. Personally, I found this approach to not only be much easier to follow, but also far more respectful to the story of the man who inspired it. A Hidden Life is not perfect, but one aspect it gets right is telling this story, and getting to the root of his spiritual crisis. It would have been almost inappropriate for most other filmmakers to take on this story, since most of it relies so much on the personal quandaries of the main character, and Malick avoids cliches by creating a narrative that feels entirely authentic to the spirit of the true-life story. It would not have worked had it been done in a more traditional manner, and while Malick reigns in some of his style here in quite an impressive way, his brief encounters with the abstract serve this film extremely well and give it a poetic atmosphere that allows him to explore the psychological machinations of the protagonist – essentially the core of the film – with a certain elegant freedom, not weighed down by anything other that his own earnest fascination with the subject, which amounts to something fantastically beautiful.

There are many factors that bring this film to life, with A Hidden Life featuring many fascinating qualities that make it extremely compelling. August Diehl, who has amassed quite a career as a character actor, leads the film as Franz, and gives one of the year’s most extraordinary performances. A role that relies much more on the intricacies of the character, rather than any broad or noticeable qualities, Diehl’s performance is far more internal than we’d normally expect. His performance is quite remarkable, especially considering how, in the hands of many other actors, the role could have resorted to something far less memorable. So much of A Hidden Life is dependent on the actors’ expressiveness, with most of the film consisting of the protagonist and his wife’s inner thoughts, in the form of a spoken correspondence, which isn’t an easy technique, especially when it comes to keeping the audience engaged. The best way to view A Hidden Life is as a series of moments in time, rather than a complete narrative. Malick does do well in giving some context to the film, but at nearly three hours in length, it’s difficult to maintain attention, especially when dealing with something as subtle as this. Diehl is an excellent protagonist in this regard, being quite endearing, and finding a certain resonant complexity in a role that takes some time to make an impact. The film is also worth it for the barrage of European character actors Malick populates this film with – beloved performers Bruno Ganz and Michael Nyqvist take their final bow in this film, playing a vicious judge and a compassionate priest respectively. Franz Rogowski continues to establish himself as an actor on the verge of a meteoric rise in his small role as a friendly soldier who Franz encounters on two different occasions. Like many of his recent work, the performances in A Hidden Life don’t make an imprint on their own but simply contribute to a complex tapestry that the director uses to tell a truly compelling story about the human condition.

Malick’s career may have consisted of many different stages, but something that has remained constant is his steadfast belief in the importance of the camera. The cinematography in all of his films is exceptional, and shows a director committed to the idea of representing a story not only from what we’re told, but also what we’re shown. A Hidden Life is obviously not any different, and working with cinematographer Jörg Widmer, Malick’s portrayal of this story is as visually striking as it is soulfully moving. Unlike many war films that pay attention to cinematography, the visual appearance of A Hidden Life is not merely there for the spectacle, but serves a thematic function as well. Similar to Julian Schnabel’s masterful At Eternity’s Gate (a similarly compelling exploration of a real-life figure and his mental state), the camera is kept very close to the scene, capturing the actors in an almost voyeuristic perspective. This creates a sense of intimacy – there are some sweepingly beautiful moments of the landscape (there are very few pastoral images that are quite as striking as those showing Radegund), but it’s in how Malick and Jörg Widmer capture every emotion and expression with almost uneasy precision that makes this film so captivating. We are not viewing these characters from a distance, but are rather alongside them, involved in the action, only separated by the thin membrane of the screen between us. Considering this film is so intent on being an exploration of the psychological state of the protagonist, the cinematography serves a pivotal function. The raw authenticity of this film is often brutal, but it truly works in the context of this story. It’s difficult to imagine any other filmmaker being able to capture the despair that Franz endured (other than perhaps Werner Herzog or Wim Wenders, who are often considered contemporaries to Malick) with such poignancy. We can accuse this film of being overlong, or too meticulously paced, but the poetic nature of the cinematography, especially when coupled with the gorgeous music by the legendary James Newton Howard (composing some of his most poetic melodies to date) and the precise directorial vision of Malick, is undeniably powerful.

Ultimately, the most significant strength of A Hidden Life is its simplicity – this is a film that appears bold at the outset, seeming to be an epic war drama with an extensive running time and the appearance of something much larger than it actually is. It does embrace these qualities, and never attempts to mislead us into thinking that its anything else. However, it does eventually progress into something more natural. The sociopolitical and historical context fades away quite fast, with Malick making sure that he establishes clear motives for his characters, but gets the heavier academic components out of the way before they envelop the entire film. It’s replaced with a delicate approach to a subject that desperately needed someone like Malick to humanize it – we can read about this period and understand the context. However, it took a film like this to bring it to life in a way never quite seen before – the large scope of the film slowly regresses into a single solitary storyline, that of a man fighting for his beliefs, even if that means sacrificing his own life in the process. This approach is not one that can be considered flawless – Malick does seem to struggle to leave behind some of his more unusual idiosyncracies (what some of his detractors may refer to as the pretentions that have seen him fall from the enigmatic auteur of Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line, to the delusional, self-serving cinematic renegade that made us endure Knight of Cups and To the Wonder), and there is very little reason why this film couldn’t have had up to an hour trimmed off it (this is not a film that benefits from this meticulous attention to detail – each component of the protagonists story is subjected to scrutiny that occupies far too much time). However, it’s boldness more than makes up for it, and the sheer ambition that went into the making of this film deserves more praise than the minor shortcoming deserve extensive discussion.

A film like A Hidden Life, despite being as thorough an exploration of the human spirit, doesn’t require much discussion, which is an anomaly, considering how films like this normally warrant extensive tomes about the historical contexts, or the underlying social message contained within the film. It isn’t that A Hidden Life doesn’t meet this criteria – it just does so in a way that doesn’t need us to explain it, making it exceptionally clear through the approach to the story. This is such a deeply personal film, where each viewer feels directly connected to the main character and his plight, so to express the plethora of emotions inspired by it seems almost counterproductive, mainly because Malick didn’t seem particularly intent on making something that facilitates broader discussion. His work here is just simply a fascinating experiment – he’s clearly a director very much as ease with his style, expressing his fascination with the subject matter with a conviction that only comes from a director who is in control of his craft. A Hidden Life may not reach the impossible heights of some of his previous work, but it certainly comes closer than he has in nearly a decade, especially in the fleeting moments when we can see signs of the audacious young auteur beneath the sometimes intimidating style. This film is a quintessential representation of Malick as a filmmaker – it’s an intrepid descent into the very fabric of human existence, made with the careful precision of a director who knows how to marry style and substance in unexpected ways, and a poetic ode to the human spirit and our inborn tendency towards rebellion. More than anything else, A Hidden Life is a film that, like Malick’s previous work, can be either adored or derided, but never accused of being anything other than an experience. If you’re willing to sacrifice a considerable amount of time and surrender yourself to Malick’s vision, you’re likely to find that this is a truly unforgettable work of filmmaking, and a truly worthwhile endeavour that lingers on the mind, and flourishes into a warm, compassionate tale of survival, sacrifice and faith, which makes this a film that is ultimately flawed but also incredibly resonant in the way very few films ever manage to be. Terrence Malick has (mostly) returned to form, and there’s hope that he will continue to express his passion in such achingly beautiful ways.