What is forgotten? Can we represent it? Is it like a black hole? Or more like a stream of torn pictures? And how does it sound? How suddenly turned off or sound like the brutal overpowering magic of Richard Wagner? One must only look Terrence Malick’s new film “Knight of Cups” and listen to, and it is the forgotten almost live.
There is probably no auteur wrestling so hard to philosophical substance and yet especially the loss of substance, even so excellently converts her forget on canvas as Terrence Malick. The trend was already apparent in recent films, but now the narrative material is fully dissolved. Malick Steadycam excesses (Camera: Emmanuel Lubezki, “Birdman”) just do not seem to provide any materiality of bodies in question, there is no more action
The press release claims that it related to a successful comedy writers named Rick and Rick search using many beautiful women the meaning of life. From comedy authorship one notices indeed nothing but Christian Bale maneuvered his Rick so silently, passively and with kind-melancholic glance through the dream world Santa Monica that you can aufprojizieren him a certain sense of looking good.
There is an earthquake without consequences. A slump that does not matter. Chic apartments, huge film studio gates. Pools. An angry father, a lost brother, many gentle women, including Cate Blanchett, Imogen Poots, Nathalie Portman: You branden all, spill, hovering approached Rick and gone
save women. the men. Women are angels
In general, the women with Malick: If they could, they would constantly dancing in isolation, in high grass, on the beach, this playful nature children. Your sensuality begins Malick so respectfully that whore and saint mild fall into one. Cate Blanchett maintains bad disfigured homeless, no doubt, she is an angel, and the hand that holds it in Ricks Cabrio on the passenger side loosely fluttering in the air, as a residual wings, so to speak, we have already seen in Malick’s previous films.
Woman as a quasi-angel is always the man who can not do anything more with the shards of his life, attributed to wholeness; to save him as Cate Blanchett, the bees in the pool shall deliver him to the gravity and also make the “Rock” and “tree”, in whose shadow she can rest. Time the woman with Malick America, sometimes animal, sometimes the church is, and if they already wearing clothes, then gladly altertümelnd with ruffles and embroidery.
Rick is now for the “Knight of Cups”, which of themselves alienated, the earth thus retired and her at the same time arrested ” Knight of Cups “. In Tarot card which means “find the reality behind the illusion your soul river is located directly in front of you..” That could be taken directly from Malick, it is not enough, he must also come up with a whispered Voiceover Tale of Prince, who is looking for a pearl on behalf of his father. but
The prince is drinking from a cup full, the one hands him, whereupon he forgets everything, his job and the knowledge of his princeliness. This is perhaps mythological a bit high gambled for Burnout constitution of a rich and famous, the hops with giggling naked women through hotel rooms and the next morning hangover lying on the floor.
“The World is a swamp, you have to fly over it! “
a touch of structure there is in all this long for Malick trademark clotted deliquescence on image and soundtrack. The individual chapters are named after tarot cards, such as “The Moon”, “The Hanged”, “The High Priestess”. But the turn out dramatically as cardboard.
Everything allegorically whispering deceptive complexity just before, because Malick works with simple actual equations that simultaneously behave like poetry, as if the cinema a Poesiealbum: “The world is a swamp, you have to fly over it!” Or: “Our souls have no wings.” The Austrian playwright Werner Schwab once put it this way: “We’re fucked in the world and can not fly.”
Through Swamp always wade in Malick people, whether as a warrior (“The Thin Red Line”) , colonialists (“The New World”) or lovers on the Mont St Michel (“to the wonder”). As if “we” (not more) in our true element, the air, close to God, the light, not one with a lurching between lover, father, mother and God “You”. In the water after all, a fly is possible on earth, at least in the terrestrial mode of as-if.
Aboriginal, women, children and dogs: They swim in Malick’s many underwater photographs clearly best. They are just still closer to the origin than the men, these enlightened by counter sunlight, but torn Humanities, Head and battle creatures with their feet in the mud.
In the realm of confusability and Oblivion
Malick’s latest films seem to constantly try to get together to remember. Or (and us viewers) to remember something that has to be necessarily said and illustrated and imprinted with droning sounds. And so they create confusability and forgetting.
Until individual settings each resembling Malick piled the simple idea of man as a spiritual and physical dual nature to always bombastic meditation pictures floods, accompanied by the same old Whisper prayers from the off and vaulted by giant sounds like from space: it was Wagner’s “Parsifal” or, as now, Edvard Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite”
Mag each of these films deal with different things, from war (“The Thin Red Line”), of the Indian princess Pocahontas (“The New World”), of failed relationships (“To the Wonder”) or by the formation of the Earth and of life (“Tree of Life”), yet each is the deja vu of another.
to operate with the difference that “Knight of Cups” now completely abandons, nor anything else than the width unfolding spiritual platitudes. Insofar Malick’s work has arrived with “Knight of Cups” on a zero.
Far, far away from “Badlands”
” As we have lost the good that has been given to us “, asked one of the soldiers in” The Thin Red Line “and the new movie sounds resist this question. It stands to reason this to decipher as a comment a work on himself.
Next from the wisdom of his brilliant debut “Badlands” (1973) could not be Malick. Since not tremble metaphysics through all the grains of sand and grass, because it shows man in all silence a truth about yourself that is less Calendar claim fit, because there is the Great, before they all almost believed solidify at the end, a serial killer.
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