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Few directors are labeled geniuses as consistently as Terrence Malick, whose newest film, Knight of Cups, is perhaps his most Malick-iest work to date. The Rhodes Scholar-turned-filmmaker has a very distinctive style, frustratingly so. When you know someone is universally acclaimed, it's hard to watch scene after scene of a woman dancing under a tree with poetry dubbed over it and not wonder what you're missing.
With many directors, the first film isn't as good as the rest. The director hasn't established a signature style or confidence yet. But those are the very reasons Malick's early features are so much more accessible. Badlands (1973) and Days of Heaven (1978) have a linear narrative, and the internal monologue is limited to a single character. Aside from the gorgeous photography, you wouldn't know these were Malick films. It was only with The Tree of Life that he went fully into nonlinear stories, tracking shots of trees and whispery monologues dubbed over muted dialogue.
If you watch Malick's seven films in chronological order, you can actually see the director crawling farther up his own ass. And I mean that in the least bad possible way.
In Knight of Cups, Christian Bale stars as Rick, a Hollywood screenwriter who revisits his past relationships with girlfriends, his ex-wife, co-workers, his brother and his father. Rick seems a man of few words and little internal monologue. Instead, Malick trusts viewers to intuit what's going on in Rick's head from the way others react to him.
Being a true Malick film, Knight of Cups has little narrative momentum. It is mostly a series of beautiful images and beautiful people speaking with their voices drowned out by internal monologues and poetry.
Compared with The Tree of Life, the film is less weighty. There are no dinosaurs, fewer CGI images of the cosmos, but far more beautiful, beautiful people.
The film is a series of vignettes, each named for a tarot card that each focus on one particular relationship. The relationship as experienced by Rick. You see people fighting, but you hear Rick's thoughts instead of their words. In a Hollywood party scene, the actors never square up to face the camera, and semi-intelligible ambient conversations make it feel like a genuine party, only you're trapped in some guy's brain. The realism is no mistake. As actor Thomas Lennon divulged, there was no actual script. The actors were given only cards with words of inspiration.
It is less a movie than a series of shots of trees, cacti, people running along beaches, colorful parties and gorgeous people skinny-dipping in pools all overdubbed with poetry. And it is gorgeous, from three-time Oscar-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki. The credits are an impressive roll—Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman, Antonio Banderas and Imogen Poots—but the film feels purposefully inaccessible.
Knight of Cups requires an appreciation for Malick's style. It's asking, practically begging, for you to acknowledge its profundity. But you get the feeling there might not be anything more meaningful than what you see. Maybe there isn't anything deeper to being a screenwriter and womanizer in Hollywood. As with tarot, you're only going to spoil the magic by overthinking Knight of Cups. It's best just to enjoy the pretty pictures.
Critic's Grade: B-
SEE IT: Knight of Cups is rated R. It opens Friday at most Portland-area theaters.
Willamette Week
