In the world of cinema, despite its magnitude, it’s often difficult for a filmmaker to establish a voice that is unique, individual, and inimitable. Amongst this elite coalition are Stanley Kubrick, Luis Buñuel, and Terrence Malick. Since Badlands, Malick has created some of the most wondrous and dreamy pictures of the last several decades, renown for placing an emphasis on the natural background to act as a metaphor for his characters’ emotional states. Because of the surreal temperament of his work, Malick’s films are an acquired taste, with detractors arguing that the filmmaker focuses too heavily on visuals sacrificing the narrative component of his features. Knight of Cups will certainly not sway any Malick doubters and will likely even turn off many Malick fans in general. Yet for the filmmaker’s biggest devotees (a group this writer happily subscribes too), Knight of Cups is an ocular paradise that features some of Malick’s most grandiose thematic material of tragedy and romance.
Much like The Tree of Life and To The Wonder beforehand, Knight of Cups is told in a very nonlinear and experimental fashion, focusing on Rick (Christian Bale), a screenwriter who traverses Hollywood lost in thought, struggling to find comfort in his family and attempting to find love through a revolving door of women. As with the two abovementioned pictures, Knight of Cups is told through fragmented scenes and cryptic narration that analyzes the human psyche. Expressed through a Godardian episodic structure, Knight is segmented into eight chapters, each titled after different kinds of tarot cards. Characters appear and disappear in, with supporting roles by Cate Blanchett, Antonio Banderas, and Natalie Portman entering the picture for short durations and even featuring brief cameos from Nick Offerman and Cherry Jones. Malick’s directing process hints that much was left on the cutting floor, meaning any number of these characters could have received extended backgrounds in a nonexistent cut, further alluding to Knight’s enigmatic story.
Yet unlike The Tree of Life or To The Wonder, or for that matter any previous Malick picture, Knight of Cups is set not within the colorful backdrops that have defined such pictures like The Thin Red Line and Days of Heaven but the industrial playground of Los Angeles, a startling move given that Malick is essentially the least Hollywood-esque American filmmaker working today. Yet Malick finds beauty within L.A., taking advantage of the Southern Californian landscape by capturing its desert plains and illustrious shorelines as well as the concrete jungle that dominates the city. It’s a testament to Malick’s direction as well as cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki’s eye that can bring to light the splendor from bare parking lots and cluttered roads.
It’s through such scenery that Malick illustrates the dual nature of Hollywood, contrasting the luxury and glamor projected on screen to the bitter reality that roams the streets of L.A. Rick acts as a representation of his home city: he lives a colorful lifestyle, bouncing through nightclubs and inviting strippers back into his luxurious apartment, yet is unfulfilled by such superficial pleasures and desires, looking for genuine contentment in his life. In a way, this is Terrence Malick’s interpretation of 8½, underscoring the juxtaposition between fantasy and actuality.
Repeated viewings will undeniably yield new light upon Malick’s intentions yet I’m convinced that Knight of Cups is a masterwork of the human condition, one that will surely resonate for quite some time. Similar to Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York, Knight takes apart the consciousness of an artist, scrutinizing the personal and emotional events that define an individual. Hopefully like Synecdoche, Knight will garner a greater appreciation in future years, when audiences rediscover its eloquence and articulateness.
