Knight of Cups, Terence Malick’s most recent offering about a screenwriter crisis in Hollywood, Vegas et all, starring Christian Bale, will once more be labelled as not everyone’s cup of tea, and an Art film.

Alexander Sokhurov, Bela Tarr, Apichatpung Weerasethakul are not everyone’s cup of tea.

Alexander Sokhurov, Bela Tarr, Apichatpung Weerasethakul are Art.

And Knight of Cups is not art. Sorry. Too easy.

A two-hour advertisement for California and Nevada tourist offices, 24-hour party people, women’s underwear, various alcoholic beverages and GOD, shot under supervision of recordman cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, it is. Edited together cellphone shots, but with clean images it is. A big moving selfie of partying people, pitying themselves, it is.

Knight of Cups is a shameful, self indulgent narcissistic work. In his search for answers within his obvious spiritual crisis, Malick delivers improvised cliches with absolutely nothing of what experimentation is about despite pleas from fans.

The only thing he catches on screen is emptiness.

What’s next for Malick, God’s new right-hand publicist? Will he soon endorse Donald Trump ?