10. Knight of Cups (2015)
This is the low point of the Terrence Malick canon: despite moments of visual panache, the Malickian style descends here into mannerism, cliche and self-parody. His epiphanic moments of wonder, generally deployed to evoke the American heartland or ordinary people generally, are now applied to the silly and self-important world of an LA screenwriter (Christian Bale) undergoing the least interesting spiritual crisis in history. The golden-hour sunsets, whispery voiceovers and woozy flashback-montages feel flaccid.
