{"id":91456,"date":"2025-07-25T13:18:12","date_gmt":"2025-07-25T13:18:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/91456\/"},"modified":"2025-07-25T13:18:12","modified_gmt":"2025-07-25T13:18:12","slug":"21st-century-cinema-in-review-the-tree-of-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/91456\/","title":{"rendered":"21st-Century Cinema in Review: \u2018The Tree of Life\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

Movies<\/a>Movies<\/a>In 2011, Terrence Malick returned with an ambitious film that\u2019s closer to a poem in form, and stunningly reflective in practice\"\"Fox Searchlight\/Getty Images\/Ringer illustrationBy Adam Nayman<\/a>, Manuela Lazic<\/a>July 25, 12:30 pm UTC \u2022 18 min<\/p>\n

Back in January, film critics Manuela Lazic and Adam Nayman began working together on a long list that initially had more than 100 titles on it, in order to sum up something interesting\u2014if not definitive\u2014about the past quarter century of film. Narrowing things down was hard. They spread out their picks as evenly as they could over this 25-year period and also across a variety of styles, and for the rest of 2025, they will be dissecting one movie per month. They\u2019re not writing to convince each other or to have an ongoing Siskel-and-Ebert-style thumb war. Instead, they\u2019re hoping to team up and explore a group of resonant movies. We\u2019re also hoping that you\u2019ll read\u2014and watch\u2014along.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Adam Nayman:<\/strong> Some movies feel within our grasp; others evade us. I\u2019ve been chasing after Terrence Malick\u2019s The Tree of Life for 14 years. That elusivity is built into the film\u2019s visual style: Over and over again, the camera hovers behind the characters as they move toward some distant vanishing point, sometimes crisscrossing their trajectories like dance partners or celestial bodies, poetry in motion. Sometimes, the shots are so swift that we can barely register who or what we\u2019re seeing despite the crystalline grade of the cinematography. Sometimes, the images are so vivid\u2014a boy kneeling by a river holding a dress; a woman holding her child to the sky; a dinosaur writhing on a beach\u2014that they linger beyond the next cut, superimposing themselves on the retina of the mind\u2019s eye.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s at once perfectly accurate and not nearly enough to say that The Tree of Life is beautiful. It\u2019s also worth wondering\u2014maybe reverently, maybe skeptically, and in the film\u2019s own spirit of dialectical inquiry\u2014about the upshot of all that lyricism. Is it in the service of something philosophically profound or merely a deep, revivifying immersion into a slipstream style of moviemaking? Not everybody wants that kind of baptism. I will never forget going to see The Tree of Life\u2014for the second time, with my dad, who had no idea what he was getting into\u2014at a theater in Toronto where the manager had posted a handwritten sign above the box office window. In my memory, which isn\u2019t perfect\u2014fitting one of the film\u2019s most resonant themes, the subjectivity and elasticity of memory\u2014it read something like, \u201cPlease do not ask for refunds, the movie is supposed to be this way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Over the years, I\u2019ve had enough conversations with people hostile to Malick\u2019s stylistic approach\u2014and to the idea that somebody else might enjoy a film with such a unique conception of drama and character\u2014that I can easily imagine the complaints that led to the buyer-beware signage. I bought a ticket for a Brad Pitt movie and got a work of American Romantic poetry \u2026 give me my money back.<\/p>\n

One of the reasons that I really wanted us to do The Tree of Life for this series was because, in a way, it represents something like the far shore of American commercial moviemaking\u2014the same basic territory that Malick staked out back in the 1970s with Badlands and Days of Heaven, but even more suffused with Ellipticism<\/a> and abstraction. \u201cSome people had criticized Days of Heaven for not having enough of a story,\u201d said Malick\u2019s collaborator, Paul Ryan<\/a>, \u201cbut Terry would say, \u2018I want to go more in that direction.\u2019 He was interested in a non-narrative style, the cinematic equivalent of how, say, Beethoven had structured his symphonies.\u201d That Malick was able to cobble together $32 million for a dream project he had been working on since the release of Days of Heaven\u2014when it was originally titled Q and conceived as \u201ca history of the cosmos up through the formation of the Earth and the beginnings of life\u201d\u2014is a miracle on par with anything in the movie itself. Imagining what the project would have looked like with Colin Farrell (who worked with Malick on The New World) in place of Pitt (who signed on with Plan B as a producer before taking on the lead role) is one of the many thought experiments that arise with a film whose ultimate realization on such a massive scale was unlikely, to say the least.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Considering that The Tree of Life went on to win the Palme d\u2019Or at Cannes (where a rumor proliferated<\/a> that Robert De Niro\u2019s jury was basically told by the festival\u2019s power brokers to pick it lest they be ridiculed by later generations) and score a Best Picture nomination, it might seem silly to try to play white knight for it, especially so many years later. But for all its size and power, there\u2019s something inherently fragile about Malick\u2019s cinema: His films are like stained-glass cathedrals, and they make easy, breakable targets for people who like to throw stones. \u201cI detect a strain of embarrassment in some of the more hostile reactions to The Tree of Life,\u201d wrote Kent Jones in Film Comment, earnestly summing up the potential perils\u2014particularly acute in an irony-poisoned millennial moment\u2014of trying to make a movie inflected by Heidegger and Whitman; scored to modern classical music and Czech opera; adorned with scriptural quotations and embedded religious allegories; and modeled, both obliquely and directly, on the book of Job as a meditation on God\u2019s will and our shared capacity for suffering, forgiveness, and redemption. One angle of attack for the film\u2019s detractors was to say that it was pretentious, unwieldy, or both: the work of a master who\u2019d thrown caution and discipline to the wind. Another was to claim that by conflating the big bang and subsequent geological and biological evolution of the planet with the modest, self-contained story of the O\u2019Brien family\u2014a middle-class, mid-20th-century clan of East Texans based on Malick\u2019s own childhood household\u2014he was scraping the ceiling (or plumbing the depths) of self-indulgence. \u201cThere is something mulish about his sophomorism, something stupefying about his work,\u201d wrote the critic Richard Schickel, who diagnosed The Tree of Life with what he called \u201cTerrence Malick Syndrome\u2014a yearning to juxtapose the quotidian and the cosmic in search of some ersatz significance.\u201d<\/p>\n

For me, there\u2019s definitely a strain of embarrassment when it comes to talking about The Tree of Life, but it\u2019s not because I\u2019m a detractor. If anything, watching it now\u2014another decade and change deeper into life, and after becoming a father\u2014leaves me dangerously close to proclaiming that it makes me feel seen. I can\u2019t think of another movie where I\u2019m simultaneously so distant from the precise time and place evoked on-screen and so close to what\u2019s happening, as if the choreography and cadence of certain moments had been extracted from my own subconscious. As a sardonic, semi-neurotic North American Jew, I relate more to A Serious Man, another unofficial adaptation of the book of Job featuring a divine heartland tornado and a crypto-rabbinic motto\u2014the humble, agnostic mandate to \u201daccept the mystery\u201d\u2014that resonates on a deeper frequency when it comes to The Tree of Life. This is not because I find Malick\u2019s movie obscure or incomprehensible (the three-hour cut approved by Malick and distributed on Blu-ray and streaming by Criterion even borders on conventional by filling out the O\u2019Briens as characters) but because I reluctantly and gratefully accept that certain things that have proved so mysterious in my own life\u2014the births of my daughters; the surreal rapidity with which they\u2019ve grown up; the ways they are now moving away from me while I lag behind, trying to catch my breath\u2014place me on some larger continuum. I don\u2019t know if I believe in universality in art, or that The Tree of Life represents some sort of landmark in that vicinity. Still, I take comfort in knowing that many other people see Malick\u2019s bright and endlessly reflective movie as a mirror\u2014including, maybe, you, Manuela \u2026<\/p>\n

More From 21st-Century Cinema in Review <\/p>\n

More From 21st-Century Cinema in Review <\/p>\n

Manuela Lazic:<\/strong> I revisited The Tree of Life this past weekend while on a long train journey. I was returning to my home after spending the weekend back home, celebrating my kid brother\u2019s 21st birthday. I quickly realized that this was going to be challenging: Rewatching the film certainly felt, in some ways, like looking into a mirror, especially in that context. I found all the love, regrets, gratitude, and fear I feel around being a sister reflected back at me with overpowering strength and beauty\u2014I was a sniveling mess for the last 20 minutes.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Nothing could have prepared me for how Malick\u2019s masterpiece would affect me this time\u2014I, too, have changed since its release. I was only 18 then, and although my brother was already around, I hadn\u2019t yet left home and started to become my own person away from him. I also hadn\u2019t seen that many movies yet; the dinosaur sequence stayed with me, but mostly because it was the first time in my life that I felt like leaving a cinema mid-film. Now, at 32, on that train taking me far away from my family, I found myself both baffled and moved by that section of the film. I\u2019m still not entirely convinced by it on a formal level (although the effects have aged relatively well), but Malick\u2019s ability to distill the essence of his argument\u2014the difference between the way of nature and the way of grace<\/a>\u2014while working on such a gigantic canvas moved me immensely. The idea that not even the evolution of a species can be rationalized away as the survival of the fittest is perhaps where all of one\u2019s hope for mankind should begin: If the dinosaurs could show mercy to each other<\/a>, and even if that mercy mattered very little in the long run, then so can we be gracious to one another.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The argument that Malick was being too self-absorbed when basing his protagonists on his own people is completely absurd. Every piece of art comes from somewhere and, ideally, somewhere personal\u2014even when it is an adaptation of existing material or centered on something one doesn\u2019t know, the point of reference is always, inevitably, the self (and that is why AI will never satisfy our need for human understanding through art). Like you, I have very little in common with the O\u2019Briens, but Malick didn\u2019t make a film about what makes them different from everyone else. He made a film about the things that connect them to everyone else, namely joy, suffering, doubt, and hope. I am not a religious person, and I don\u2019t know if there is a God, but I do believe in love, as cheesy as that may sound, and this is what Malick is talking about here. What he captures in the lives of his characters isn\u2019t simply the facts of them, but what these facts carry within. I hope not everyone on Earth has been unlucky enough to have a father like Mr. O\u2019Brien, shouting at them to sit properly at dinner<\/a> but himself keeping his elbows on the table, but I can imagine a lot of people recognizing the forcefulness, desperation for control, and loneliness behind his behavior. Not everyone has had the experience of their mother kissing them goodnight and switching off the light every day for years, as we see here in a brief but evocative montage, but these are the kinds of gestures, at once practical and emotionally charged, that children later remember. It is love or its absence (or its burying), how one chooses to follow or resist it through time, that Malick has managed to catch like lightning in a bottle.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I will always remember my brother as he was when he was 3 years old. It seems that Jack can only remember his brother R.L. as a young boy, and we never see him as he was around the age of his passing, at 19. Memory is not only a theme of the film but a structuring force. It\u2019s the mechanisms of the mind traveling through time that determine the shape of the film, and perhaps this is why it is called The Tree of Life, as each branch is connected to the others, even though some at first seem so far apart. The film has a stream-of-consciousness quality, perhaps because remembering is a bit like dreaming about the past, and so it would make sense for Jack to think of his brother as always looking the same. It also explains the sudden appearance of their youngest brother, as well as the film\u2019s ending<\/a>, which is completely devastating for its total embrace of both nature\u2019s cruel ways and the enduring, unquestionable existence of love in the world. Jack, now grown, finds his memories merging with his feelings of loss, longing, and affection, and he can imagine a place, out of time, where nature and grace finally find an equilibrium. It\u2019s a heart-expanding (if not exploding) moment because it promises that no matter what, one will always be able to love the world, and it echoes the moment when Mr. O\u2019Brien apologizes to young Jack for having been ruthless at times. If even he can see that, if even he can actually love, then there is grace in the world.<\/p>\n

The branches of that tree are connected to each other but also reach down to the earth, and this time around, I couldn\u2019t help but also see the film from an ecological point of view. Nature, in a literal sense, is present in Jack\u2019s and his brothers\u2019 childhoods. Malick and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki manage to give meaning to the clich\u00e9d image of kids climbing up a sunlight-dappled tree: They are growing up, and so is that tree, and this inevitable, unstoppable change is at once exhilarating and vertiginous. Nothing in the natural world and our lives ever stays the same; the elements always end up taking over. Watching the clean stream where Jack plays contrasted with the stunning image of children running into pesticide smoke, blissfully unaware of its nefariousness, I felt Malick both paying tribute to the once barely touched environment as he must have known it and trying to keep a record of it for a future he predicted to be less green. Almost 15 years later, it sadly feels like we have arrived at that moment. How many children these days get to have childhoods like Jack\u2019s, where they are confronted daily with the way of nature\u2014its indifference and beauty, its complexity and simplicity\u2014in creatures besides themselves without, crucially, being terrified of it? Kids today learn all about pollution and our pitiful attempts at containing it, and they might even grasp that the Earth is, in a way, simply going through another phase of adapting to its circumstances, yet that is little comfort when that change of climate means the end of the human race.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Adam, do you think Malick\u2019s perspective on nature (and grace) can help us deal with the havoc we have wreaked on our one and only planet? Can he help us face the future, on an individual and global level?<\/p>\n

Nayman: <\/strong>That sort of responsibility is a tall order for any filmmaker, especially one who\u2019s working in such an oblique register: For every viewer who might buy into The Tree of Life as a design for living, there\u2019s another who\u2019d probably ask for a refund. But I agree with you that the film functions powerfully as an environmental polemic, attuned to how the world looks both with and without us, with one eye trained on the distant past and another on the end of history and beyond: Maybe we could call it Please Look Up.<\/p>\n

Back when we were talking about Step Brothers<\/a>, I suggested that Adam McKay and Terrence Malick had certain things in common, Exhibit A being editor Hank Corwin, who was hired to cut The Big Short based largely on his sterling work on The Tree of Life. In an interview with Deadline, McKay praised Corwin\u2019s willingness to \u201ctake bold leaps\u201d in assembling footage, and considering that Lubezki and Malick shot nearly 350 hours of material, it\u2019s a miracle it took only five editors (and a gaggle of USC film students and interns) to bring the final product in at feature length. It\u2019d be a fun experiment\u2014and a bold leap\u2014to intercut the playground bullying scenes in Step Brothers with the boys-will-be-boys brutality in The Tree of Life, or maybe juxtapose Sean Penn\u2019s adventures on the beachfront astral plane with the utopian expanse of the Catalina Wine Mixer. To go a little further, is that wounded plesiosaur writhing on a prehistoric beach (an image beamed in from the Discovery Channel, or Jurassic Park) a symbol of our shared frailty, or is it simply using ninja focus to slow its heart rate down? Let\u2019s just say that both movies understand the sublime emotions that can be conjured up by a well-placed aria and leave it at that.\u00a0<\/p>\n

There\u2019s some circumstantial evidence that Malick would appreciate the above comparison. Because the director is a bit of a recluse, any little nuggets of information about him get treated like gospel. My favorite is that he\u2019s an avowed fan of Zoolander<\/a>; he also let alt-comedy cutups Thomas Lennon, Joe Lo Truglio, and Nick Kroll wander loose<\/a> through the Hollywood Babylon of Knight of Cups as a de facto peanut gallery and sicced a chainsaw-wielding Val Kilmer on music festivalgoers during the making of Song to Song<\/a>. About 15 years ago, I attended a European film festival where one of the guests of honor was\u2014drumroll\u2014John C. Reilly, who talked about working with Malick on The Thin Red Line and recalled how the director once paused in the middle of blocking an elaborate combat sequence, pointed up at the sky, and said, \u201cLook at that red-tailed hawk.\u201d Malick\u2019s reputation as an intellectual precedes him: He was a Rhodes scholar at Oxford who tackled Heidegger and Wittgenstein in his dissertation. But the fact that he never finished his degree matters, too. It ties into the feeling\u2014present in the majority of his movies, but paramount in The Tree of Life\u2014that he\u2019s a kind of perpetual undergrad filtering his big, metaphysical ideas through a series of wise-beyond-their-years mouthpieces. That quality of in-betweenness is crucial: Whether his narrators are living in turn-of-the-century Texas, \u201950s-era South Dakota, or the deep forests of The New World, they articulate their observations like emissaries from a teenage wasteland.<\/p>\n

A few years ago, writing about Zodiac<\/a>\u2014another movie I\u2019d love to pair with The Tree of Life as an object lesson in how to depict the passage of time\u2014Kent Jones wondered whether or not certain films could be visually and intellectually stimulating enough to actually transcend their makers\u2019 intentions. His not-so-rhetorical question was \u201cCan Movies Think?\u201d and I\u2019d say The Tree of Life resembles his criteria for cinematic sentience. Like its namesake, it\u2019s a movie that branches out in all directions, a tangle of sturdy, load-bearing boughs and spindly limbs. Such is the nature of Malick\u2019s art, and maybe the reason I prefer The Tree of Life to the similarly styled films he made afterward\u2014at an accelerated rate that altered the public and industrial perception of his work after decades of only sporadic activity\u2014is because it foregrounds meaning-making in the mind of an adolescent protagonist. I\u2019m hard-pressed to think of a performance by a child actor that conveys the idea of a consciousness in formation the way Hunter McCracken\u2019s does; every time the camera catches his eye, there\u2019s a palpable sense of processing, a mask of rapt contemplation. I love movies whose form is instructive, that effectively teach you how to watch them as they go along: Don\u2019t Look Now comes to mind, and also the work of Claire Denis, whose Beau Travail feels inflected by The Thin Red Line. Jack\u2019s anxious, roving, voracious gaze is what holds The Tree of Life together even as it pulls it apart; it\u2019s an entry point to an inner life and also a mirror for our own spectatorship.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I had a friend whose major criticism of The Tree of Life was that it made him feel like his mind was wandering\u2014that the style was a cover for a lack of dramatic focus. Is there a contradiction between holding a viewer\u2019s attention and leaving it free to roam? Do you think that The Tree of Life is a movie that thinks, and is there anything else that it makes you think about?<\/p>\n

Lazic: <\/strong>I think the best films tend to \u201cthink,\u201d in the sense that they are open enough for the spectator to derive meaning from them on their own, freely yet with the gentle guidance of the filmmaker. I agree that Claire Denis\u2019s films<\/a> (perhaps most intensely The Intruder) fit that description, as does the work of David Lynch and Michelangelo Antonioni, who made films that have their own internal logic that cannot be explained, only experienced. And yet, Denis, Lynch, Antonioni, and Malick can\u2019t be said to have similar styles, which I think demonstrates Jones\u2019s point that \u201cwe need to stop thinking so much about this thing called \u2018cinema\u2019 and start letting movies think for themselves.\u201d (And yes, this also applies to Step Brothers.) The issue instead is one of personal disposition to a filmmaker\u2019s style: Some people will respond more to Lynch than to Denis, and that is fine. I also wonder if disposition is such a fixed thing: As I mentioned earlier, everything is always changing, so perhaps films can open up for us over time (as The Tree of Life did for me) or instead come to feel overdetermined and suddenly limited.<\/p>\n

McCracken\u2019s thoughtful performance reminded me of Babak Ahmadpour in Abbas Kiarostami\u2019s 1987 masterpiece Where Is the Friend\u2019s House?<\/a>, in which a young child faces the indifference and cruelty of people (the way of nature) as he tries to do the right, altruistic thing (the way of grace) and save his classmate from punishment. Kiarostami claimed that in order to get Ahmadpour to look as though he were anxiously weighing the pros and cons of all his decisions, he\u2019d simply ask him to solve math problems in his head<\/a>. I imagine Malick\u2019s approach was more Method-like, in the sense that he and his collaborators\u2014I\u2019m thinking in particular of the stunning work of production designer Jack Fisk\u2014made sure to create a world in which his actors could fully immerse themselves and be left to interact with it. Like in Kiarostami\u2019s film, where the kid has to actually run from village to village to find his friend\u2019s house, there is an element of doing in The Tree of Life, especially for the children, which can help bring out convincing performances: When you have to climb a tree, you don\u2019t have to think about or show that you are climbing the tree; you just climb it. Malick is often mocked for being whimsical, but his (good) films are usually anchored in physical behavior and in the world. The Tree of Life features some of its actors\u2019 best work: I don\u2019t always connect with the bravado of Jessica Chastain\u2019s performances but find her irresistibly honest here (her \u201cno!\u201d when toddler Jack goes to hit baby R.L. has never left my mind), and it\u2019s a pleasure to see Pitt going through unsettling emotions. Mr. O\u2019Brien\u2019s apology to Jack is actually not as devastating as what happens right after it<\/a>: Pitt and McCracken separate after a hug and stand awkwardly near each other, the distance and tension between their characters returning after this moment of intimacy, the actors struggling with that odd mix of emotions, the camera stepping back to follow this gap as it widens again. The film reaches an even deeper level for me when it shows not only Jack thinking but also his father, a man usually so controlled that he lets nothing on, neither his feelings nor his mind.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I think we can both agree that this discussion is our most galaxy-brained one to date in this series, which is of course appropriate for a film about the birth and fragility of the world itself. To bring it back down to a slightly more concrete place, I\u2019ll close by mentioning the film\u2019s visual effects, courtesy of Douglas Trumbull. Malick brought Trumbull out of retirement (he hadn\u2019t done effects since 1982\u2019s Blade Runner) in order to avoid an overly digital look, and the results are beautiful. It\u2019s interesting that at no point in this exchange did we talk about The Tree of Life\u2019s influence on the films that came after it\u2014perhaps because few filmmakers have Malick\u2019s ambition to make a film about Life Itself\u2014but Trumbull presents an opportunity to talk about a film The Tree of Life is indebted to, another Trumbull masterpiece, Stanley Kubrick\u2019s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Both films are existential in their own ways, and their starting points are exact opposites\u2014one begins from a large tree, the other a mysterious, inorganic monolith. These filmmakers have different sensibilities, of course, and perhaps Kubrick\u2019s film is more readily referenced than Malick\u2019s because there is less vulnerability in precise storyboards and irony than a free-floating camera and whispered musings about love. Does Malick represent the way of grace and Kubrick that of nature? I\u2019m not sure, but in any case, they both have their place in the cinematic firmament.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Adam Nayman is a film critic, teacher, and author based in Toronto; his book \u2018The Coen Brothers: This Book Really Ties the Films Together\u2019 is available now from Abrams.
\n
\n\"\"<\/a>Manuela Lazic is a French writer based in London who primarily covers film.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"MoviesMoviesIn 2011, Terrence Malick returned with an ambitious film that\u2019s closer to a poem in form, and stunningly…\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":91457,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[28],"tags":[171,53,67,132,68],"class_list":{"0":"post-91456","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-movies","8":"tag-entertainment","9":"tag-movies","10":"tag-united-states","11":"tag-unitedstates","12":"tag-us"},"share_on_mastodon":{"url":"https:\/\/pubeurope.com\/@us\/114914073269480571","error":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91456","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=91456"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91456\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/91457"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=91456"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=91456"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=91456"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}