Knight of Cups

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Terrence Malick/Starring: Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman, Wes Bentley, Brian Dennehy, Antonio Banderas, Armin Mueller-Stahl and Cherry Jones

Terrence Malick has certainly earned his place in the American Directorial Pantheon. His visual stylings can be breathtaking, as in Tree of Life and films from his past, like Badlands, Days of Heaven and The New World meld his stunning visual aesthetic to powerful drama. But in his new film; Knight of Cups, as in his last film To the Wonder he seems to have become tethered to a storytelling mode that has become self-parodying. Many of the storytelling elements seen in his last few films are conspicuously present here: whispery voice-overs, protagonists drifting through beautifully surreal urban and desert landscapes, and fantastic images that almost overpower the narrative. Though opinions on the Tree of Life were ferociously polarized, I myself found it to be moving and ambitious but with Malick's follow-up projects, he seems to have become smitten with a style that is no longer new and visionary. His new movie carries all the aforementioned stylistic tics without breaking any new ground. Only the characters have changed.
If the film has a selling point, it's in its striking images, but two hours of incomparable beauty without a solid narrative feel like Koyaanisqatsi. I don't know that I want to see one more Terrence Malick film where a character walks slowly through the desert; contemplating whatever they're supposed to be contemplating while a mumbly voice-over whispers stuff like "find your way through the darkness." That which seemed so poetic in Tree of Life now seems almost satirical. Mr. Malick, thou hast drawn from the same well once too often.

The film, to its credit, doesn't follow conventional plotting, but tries to paint a portrait of a man through a series of images rather than dialogue and action. The man; Rick (Christian Bale), is a Hollywood something or other (forgive me if I missed what may have been obvious to you); actor or writer; I couldn't tell. Having failed in his marriage to a doctor named Nancy (Cate Blanchett), Rick finds himself lost in a world of Hollywood excess. Images of bacchanalian chaos in Los Angeles mansions and nightclubs, where Rick wanders among the beautiful bodies like a ghost, are a common sight.

When Rick isn't a presence at parties, we see him in various locations around Los Angeles, engaged in thoughtful walkabouts. I don't know that I've ever seen a film set in the City of Angels look lovelier. The skyline, streets, and the beaches we've seen in a million other films suddenly seems new and strange. Malick's brilliant cinematographer, Emmanuel Lubezki, who has also done fine work on Alejandro Innaritu's recent films, makes Los Angeles seem otherworldly. My guess is he accomplished this visual feat with a wide-angle lens.

We also see Rick's brief relationships with a series of women; none of whom seem particularly exceptional save for their looks. It is me or does every respective shot of the women consist of frolics on the beach or inside apartments? The only woman of any substance is Nancy; a doctor who we see treating the less beautiful citizens of the city. The only real dialogue we hear Rick share with any woman is also with Nancy, who still suffers emotional wounds from their failed marriage.
And finally we meet Rick's brother Barry (Wes Bentley) and his father Joseph (Brian Dennehy), who can never be in the same room together unless they're bickering. Again, we never really hear them interact, we only see them in various phases of their troubled familial relationship. We can see Barry bears more rancor for his father than Rick and isn't shy about expressing it. Toward the end of the film Rick seems to achieve some sort of reconciliation with his father, while Joseph; atoning for his failures as a father and husband, seeks spiritual absolution.

As Rick drifts from woman to woman, we see one has fallen deeply in love with him though she be married: Elizabeth (Natalie Portman). How do we know she's in love? Because we hear say as much in her own whispery voice-over (yes, everybody in this film has a whispery voice-over; even Rick's goatee--no, not really) and because she too (sarcasm alert) runs along the beach.

So, do all the beautiful images, which encompass city-scapes and southern Californian deserts and Las Vegas and Rick's innumerable women and the film's scant drama cohere into anything resembling a poignant whole? You be the judge. Do we care about Rick, who never seems to work but has plenty of time to chase women and walk around aimlessly? I can't say I did. Can a man be said to have troubles when he can partake of legions of sexy, beautiful women who come and go like the tide? If he was suffering, it wasn't obvious to me.

Malick's film is a lot like the women Rick romances; great to look at but superficial. But an hour and a half into the film, even the beautiful images, like the women, become tedious. Malick certainly has made great films and may again if he takes leave of the style he can't seem to let go of. Knight of Cups isn't an embarrassment but it falls well short of being an achievement.