Review: Malick’s Cups Runneth Over—and Over

Terrence Malick is adored in certain film circles for his supposedly poetic imagery, as applied to grand themes like “What is family?” (The Tree of Life) and “Corn: Isn’t it great?” (The New World). In Knight of Cups, he turns his somber gaze toward the hollowness of Hollywood: Christian Bale plays a disillusioned screenwriter drifting through a decadent landscape of women wearing too much eye makeup and terrible, clubfooted platform stilettos, though Malick makes it clear that the other female caricatures in his life (Cate Blanchett’s selfless doctor, Natalie Portman’s caring, sensitive sprite) are far superior. Teresa Palmer also appears as a stripper with a heart of gold and hot pants of silver. (Inexplicably, she also wears sandals with thick wooden soles onstage, moviedom’s first clog-wearing exotic dancer.) For loyal Malick fans, the woozy dream-logic visuals here may be enough. But this director is hardly the perceptive student of human nature he’s cracked up to be. He understands so little about women–and even less about our shoes.

–S.Z.