Fuck you, Terrence Malick. Your first two films, BADLANDS, and DAYS OF HEAVEN are as good as anything ever made, and are two of the most beautiful films ever shot. They established you as a genius, and for true geniuses I must watch every one of their films. I had mixed feelings about some of your films that followed, from being fascinating but flawed (THE THIN RED LINE) to being a self-indulgent mess (THE TREE OF LIFE). But even in your missteps, there was undoubtedly something fresh and original — you were doing an experiment on a scale that more audacious than others would dare in this century-old medium. To take us to new cinematic places you have to be bold and adventurous. It is the nature of experiments that they don’t always work. I was still with you, right up until TO THE WONDER. Ben Affleck wandering around whispering random random relationship bullshit for two hours without a narrative is not a movie.
When KNIGHT OF CUPS screened Berlin last year, the buzz was not good. But some critics still liked it. I had hope. Well, I just went to the American premiere at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival, and my hopes were crushed. You’ve officially lost me. This film is garbage. I’d say it is pretentious garbage, but I don’t even think it rises to that level. People are calling it “experimental,” but let’s get real. It is not really an experiment when you do the same thing over and over. This movie is just Christian Bale walking around in random scenes, instead of Ben Affleck. You didn’t have a script when you made it. You didn’t even tell Christian Bale what the movie was about. That’s just asshole behavior right there — to think you are so good that you don’t need to make your movie about anything.
Oh I get that it is supposed to be something like a memory. That the whispered, fleeting, ever-changing scenes are supposed to be akin to meditation or a dream. Well you know what is boring as hell? Listening to someone else describe their dreams. But even that is miles better than this self-indulgent wasteland, because at least people’s dream-stories have the barest hint of a narrative. If they don’t that’s part of the joke, because isn’t it insane when things are so nonsensically put together? And such stories are over in five minutes. Only the most insufferable idiot would tell you his dream for two hours, and try to charge you money for it. Actually, that would never happen, because the person being told the dream would just say, “Oh hey, get to the point.”
And I get it that it is allegedly an allegory about a knight who has lost his way on a quest for a pearl. Well, in real allegories you don’t have to explain them. And it helps if people have some knowledge of the story you are trying to resonate with. And I get it that Christian Bale wandering through scenes of beautiful people, fabulous wealth, and empty interiors is supposed to be an indictment of Hollywood shallowness. Well, it doesn’t help the theme that their supposedly vapid conversations in the background, and their half-naked shenanigans, were the most interesting thing you put on screen.
This is sophomoric film school bullshit. Ooh, I’m making an experimental film without narrative, I’m so profound. Well, at least a film student is only wasting about 20 people’s time and a few thousand dollars. You, on the other hand, are burning through funding, top actors, and critic and audience goodwill. How many more times can you have a film gross $500,000 and still get a new one financed?
Ugh, I really hate the fact that I know have to lump you in with Terry Gilliam — a once-genius who now can’t make a good movie to save his life. One who went back to the same bag of tricks too many times, only to find the magic was gone. Then he slowly ran his way through diminishing returns of financiers and talent until he was a sad shadow of his former self who can’t get films made anymore, much less ones worth watching.
But maybe, just maybe there’s still hope. I had written Ridley Scott off too, and he came back with one of my favorite films of last year. He surrounded himself with great people. He got out of his comfort zone, and put himself in the hands of others. Please hire someone who will tell you no. Someone who will say, “Another underwater shot, really? Another one looking up from under the tree? Another one of flowing clothes? Another one wading at the beach? More whispering?” Challenge yourself. Make a narrative feature with no inner dialogue.
I want Terrence Malick movies to be great again. And I want people to keep backing them. Please don’t go the way of Terry Gilliam. There is still genius in you. The world needs it.
