Knight of Cups

Christian Bale and Natalie Portman in Knight of Cups

Terrence Malick's Knight of Cups was such a hoot that I thought up alternate titles while the film unspooled: the winners were Journey to the Wonder and A Rake Regrets. Anyway, by most sane artistic measures the film is a failure, but I found it, at times, to be visually compelling and moving. Malick's vision here is more spooky splendor than natural wonder. Lead Christian Bale spends more times in backlots, corporate towers, ersatz Beverly Hills' palazzos and Vegas rather than amidst Malick's  beloved natural settings where the director can get off on his single grain of sand pantheism. Malick is at sea here divorced from the natural world rather than focusing on the Badlands, jungles of Guadalcanal or the plains of Kansas. Modern alienation is not his forte, Man in Nature is.

The narrative is a poor second to the visuals. Bale romances a fistful of dames, tries to connect with his brother and father, but can't relate with anyone because he is wandering lost; like most of the cast. Malick has a load of mega talents (Bale, Portman, Blanchett, Brian Dennehy), but they seem to have nothing to latch onto or react against. Only Antonio Banderas stands out as a comic Hollywood lounge lizard. The romantic scenes are inert as the characters seem less interesting than the décor. If Malick no longer wants to tell a story, he needn't try. (12/10/16)