Director Terrence Malick takes over a year to edit his films. Back in 2011 he brought us the weird and wonderful The Tree of Life and To the Wonder shortly after, now, a few years later comes this…
In Knight of Cups, Christian Bale plays a lost-soul screenwriter in a series of six relationships with different women including Natalie Portman, Freida Pinto and his estranged wife, Cate Blanchett. ‘Knight of Cups’ refers to a tarot card Bale picks on one of his party sprees, when he roams from desserts to strip clubs, to beaches, to pool parties.
Visually the film is a treat. Especially the underwater camera shots. But when an earthquake hits Los Angeles, Bale is shaken up to the point of finding it necessary (or not) to come to terms with who he really is. Of course that’s easy to do when you miss writing deadlines and spend a day pondering, while Hollywood is slinging big double-your-salary script assignments your way. Bale’s days are full of self-loathing and his nights with parties at Antonio Banderas’s home (with cameos, Ryan O’Neal, etc.) So why do we care about this guy?
Oddly we do. Like most writers, he lives in the figments of his imagination, his roaming mind, and his narcissism. He barely speaks. There is no need for dialog except the one taking place in his mind. He surrounds himself with woman after woman, sashaying around his hotel, apartment, Oceanside, in high heels or flimsy sundresses, taking on the role of muse, helping him find answers that are never quite there.
The story is broken into small vignettes with title cards reflective of the Tarot readings. “The Hanged Man” for his brother’s suicide, or ‘Judgement” for his tumultuous affections towards his ex-wife (Blanchett) and “The High Priestess” for a really hot train wreck of a woman that comes his way.
The cool bit about this film is it manages to convey an entire story without really telling one…much like a writer walks around all day with the stories in his brain. Seeing Brian Dennehy rise up to such a curious occasion as Bale’s father is a beloved moment. The movie evokes interest, as if Malick might be shuffling the deck of Tarot cards. The only thing he got wrong…a writer would never date an actress. Ever.
Three and a half tiaras