Terrence Malick’s ‘Knight of Cups‘ (2015) is less of a narrative film than a drifting, sensory immersion into the life of a man who has everything yet feels nothing. We see that at its center is Rick (Christian Bale), who is a very successful screenwriter in Los Angeles, and wanders through mansions, places like deserts, clubs, and oceans like a ghost. The camera follows him restlessly as well, often circling or simply just gliding past him, as though refusing to let him settle down, which has always been a topic of discussion for cinephiles.
The film takes its name from the tarot card, the Knight of Cups, who is supposedly a figure of charm and longing, yet one often plagued by illusions and dissatisfaction, and as a seeker without bearings, we see how Rick drifts amid wealth and beauty, and each encounter underscores his spiritual void. The structure of the film is somehow divided into chapters named after other tarot cards, which reinforces its sense of pilgrimage for each woman that he has met, or encountered, which is, of course, less a character than an archetype, and an invitation to transformation that Rick cannot yet accept.
The Beauty, Longing, and Spiritual Emptiness of Rick’s World
Rather than existing as an ordinary character, the women Rick encounters throughout the entire film, such as Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman, Freida Pinto, Teresa Palmer, and others, act as symbolic guides who help in illuminating his inner struggles. Each presence captures a separate facet of existence, from love and temptation to care, passion, and spiritual longing, and their interactions with Rick feel ephemeral, often fragmented, reflecting both the beauty and the impermanence of human connection. Malick uses their presence to illuminate Rick’s longing and his incapacity to find grounding amid a life filled with superficial glamour.
Like The Tree of Life (2011) and To the Wonder (2012), Knight of Cups continues Terrence Malick’s exploration of the dislocation and longing of the modern soul, which is a recurring concern in his late oeuvre. Whereas The Tree of Life found its spiritual center in the universal rhythms of memory, family, and the cyclical passage of life, Knight of Cups turns its vision outward, interrogating the hollowness that can accompany material success, celebrity, and beauty. Here, the human spirit is depicted as adrift amid the relentless desire of Hollywood’s mansions, parties, and landscapes, where every glittering surface simultaneously seduces and isolates.
In contrast to the familial and cosmic resonance of Tree, Malick’s Los Angeles becomes a terrain of existential emptiness, a resplendent yet alien environment in which Rick’s inner void is amplified rather than soothed. The film suggests that no amount of wealth or spectacle can truly satisfy the soul. A life spent chasing status and appearances only deepens the sense of emptiness. Amid parties, luxury homes, and glittering cityscapes, every celebration feels both inviting and isolating, promising connection yet leaving a lingering void. Even intimacy is depicted as fleeting, tinged with the impossibility of permanence or real connection.
Terrence Malick’s Vision of Desire, Disconnection, and Existential Emptiness
Through Emmanuel Lubezki’s lens, Rick’s turbulence becomes tangible, as we see how his camera glides over bright interiors, across desert landscapes, and through reflections that seem to shimmer with memory. Dialogue is minimal, leaving room for soft voice-overs and the rhythm of thought. The film moves like consciousness itself, fragmented, ephemeral, and full of aspiration.
Knight of Cups divided critics sharply, because some saw it as indulgent, incoherent, or self-absorbed, dismissing Malick’s focus on mood and imagery as excessive. Others, however, found it magnetic, which is a daring, almost philosophical exploration of longing, beauty, and the spiritual emptiness of contemporary life. What unites these perspectives is recognition of Malick’s late style, which is a cinema that values sensation over story, reflection over convention, and imagery over linear narrative. The film is not meant to be “solved” or fully understood, because it is meant to be experienced, inhabited like a dream or a memory, allowing viewers to feel the weight of Rick’s yearning, the fragility of human desire, and the elusiveness of fulfillment in a world of appearances.
