Login | Sign Up
A man experiences an existential crisis after finding fame and fortune in Hollywood.
The sheer weight of evocative, ethereal images is not matched by complexity, depth or character development.
Since crafting a potently polarising masterpiece with 2011's The Tree Of Life, Malick has become a man on a mission. A mission to stuff a movie so full of coded self-indulgence it seems like a perverse joke that has misplaced its own punchline.
It's a giant montage; a rhapsody and an elegy, cinema as prayer.
There's something at once vividly familiar and strikingly different about "Knight of Cups," a feverish plunge into the toxic cloud of decadence swirling around a Los Angeles screenwriter gone to seed.
He Named Me Malala is a sub-par document of a girl who stands for so much, but is reduced simply to an image of anti-terrorism at the hands of Western media.
The result is ludicrous self-parody - somewhere between a Calvin Klein aftershave advertisement and a coffee-table book about the modernist mansions of the rich and famous.
[Malick] remains some kind of master, and his admirers will want to see Knight of Cups to judge for themselves.
While you can admire the filmmaker for his unconventional means of expressing himself, without any sense of linearity, or character development, it becomes impossible to invest in this picture.
With vacant eyes and mouth agape, man continues his seemingly irrevocable fall from innocence, in Terrence Malick's eternally juvenile seventh feature Knight of Cups.
Deleting a title from your collection is like throwing away a DVD.
You will no longer be able to watch this title on Flixster or any other UltraViolet service.
Are you sure you want to permanently delete this title?