Terrence Malick’s ‘Knight of Cups’ (2015) is more of a drifting and immersing experience into the life of a man who has everything but feels nothing. This is clear in the instance of Rick (played by Christian Bale), who is a successful screenwriter in Los Angeles, and just wanders around in mansions, such as deserts, nightclubs, and oceans, like a ghost. The camera also follows him around restlessly, sometimes circling around or just gliding past him, as if not wanting him to settle down, which has always been a point of debate for the film enthusiasts.
The Beauty, Longing, and Spiritual Emptiness of Rick’s World
The movie derives its title from the tarot card, the Knight of Cups, who is obviously a symbol of allure and longing, but is also someone who is eternally beset by illusions and discontent, and it is as a lost spiritual wanderer that we see just how Rick drifts through his material possessions and looks, and how all of his experiences are meant to underscore his lack of spirituality. The movie is somehow broken up into a series of chapters that derive their titles from other tarot cards, thus underlining again the idea of pilgrimage for each of the women that he has met, or encountered, which, of course, is less a personality than a type, and a need for transformation that Rick is as yet unable to grasp.
Instead, the women that Rick meets in the entire movie, Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman, Freida Pinto, Teresa Palmer, and so on and so forth, appear to be more like symbolic guides who lead towards the illumination of his struggles. Every time they make an appearance is a different experience in life, whether it is love, temptation, care, passion, or spiritual desires. The experiences that Rick has with the women appear to be momentarily brief, at times interrupted, symbolizing the beauty as well as the transience that is found in life. Malick uses the appearances by the women in the movie to express the longing that Rick has and the inability to find any foot-holds in a life that is full of superficial beauty. Knight of Cups, the sequel to films The Tree of Life (2011) and To the Wonder (2012), embodies the next chapter in the puzzle of a series of films that chronicle the displacement and longing of the modern soul. Where The Tree of Life charted the spiritual rebirth of man through the universal experiences of memory, family, and the unrolling of life itself, Knight of Cups chooses to instead explore the emptiness that may result from the after-effects of success, fame, and beauty. This way, the soul of mankind becomes lost amidst the consumption of the homes, celebrations, and landscapes of Hollywood. However, unlike the familial and universal themes of Tree, Malick’s LA becomes a site of existential emptiness—a dazzling but alienating site that emphasizes Rick’s existential emptiness, rather than alleviating it. The film aims to state that nothing can fill the soul despite the accumulation of wealth and show. The ways and means of the emptiness are simply filled in ways that increase the sense of emptiness. Amidst all the parties, mansions, and cityscapes, all the celebrations are also at the same time tempting yet lonely, promising one thing yet offering another. Even love becomes ephemeral as well as being ridden by the impossibility of perpetuity. It is through the perspective of Emmanuel Lubezki that the turbulence of Rick becomes real, as we observe the manner in which his camera sweeps through the bright interiors, the desert landscapes, and the reflections that seem to ripple in shimmering waves of memory. There are few instances of dialogues, but enough moments for soft voice-overs and the rhythm of thought. “Knight of Cups” has been divided among critics, as some people find it too indulgent, too messy, or perhaps too egocentric, with Malick’s attention to mood and image as being unnecessarily extreme. Others, however, find it simply irresistible, which is a rather daring, almost philosophical attitude towards longing, beauty, and spiritual deprivation in modern society. Nevertheless, the common thread that runs through all these works is that they all belong to Malick’s late style, and this late style in turn represents the cinema of sensation as opposed to narrative, reflection as opposed to convention, and imagery as opposed to story. This film, by contrast, is most definitely not one that can be solved or comprehended but rather one that must be felt and lived, as if it were a dream or a memory, where one can absorb the weight of Rick’s desire and the intangibility of satisfaction in the world of appearances.
