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I have been in quite the Terrence Malick mood lately. Partly because I got a new TV, the nice kind of TV that demands I watch something truly beautiful on it, and not just a dozen more episodes of Carrie Bradshaw smoking and complaining about Big, a man who will absolutely leave her at the first opportunity a high-enough advisor job opens up in the Trump White House — or at least that’s how I’m imagining the reboot will explain away his potential absence. Another reason is that I love all of Matt Zoeller Seitz’s writing about the 2005 Malick film The New World: “Other movies have fans. The New World has disciples.” A few weeks ago I watched Days of Heaven and immediately pressed play again the second it finished — Malick’s movies look good, and they’re attuned to the deepest hu…
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