Worst Movie of All Time (With Spoilers, If You Can Even Call Them That)

There are some spoilers in this review, but based on the fact that nothing happens in this movie, are they really spoilers?

There is certainly a fine line between making an art film that is somewhat admirable and a nonsensical two-hour sequence of moving images. I wish I could have called this an art film even to some degree, but the fact of the matter is that beyond the first half hour (wherein Christian Bale's L.A. apartment shakes a la earthquake effect and then he just lies down on the ground outside), none of the shots of pool/ocean water or apparent advertisements for visiting Las Vegas, Los Angeles, nightclubs, and empty highways look impressive.

You almost never see Christian Bale's face dead-on; it's always way off to the side, and many times within the frame of a fisheye lens. He looks somehow more confused than the audience as he stares down nothingness and walks around for a very long time. He has relationships with Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman (who is married to another man and after getting pregnant but not knowing who the baby's father is, she seemingly stops seeing Bale), a stripper (who he meets at...a strip club), and a model (who he meets at some pretentious mansion party). He somehow gathers the nerve to speak to this model, barely muffling out, "What is your name?" The fact that he is able to score with so many attractive women without knowing how to not look creepy or even speak out loud is mind-boggling. But alas, she or he dumps the other and Bale continues to look for his "pearl". Bale also has a brother who is for some reason super violent and keeps attacking Bale but since Bale's acting abilities in every movie ever are limited to staring and lightly smiling, he never retaliates or cares. And if that old guy in the movie is really their father, I couldn't see a resemblance and frankly didn't care about his scenes about nothing, either. Also, two guys rob Bale's apartment in one scene but it doesn't matter at all because Bale doesn't have valuable possessions and his life is worthless.

There are meaningless title cards that precede the excessively long sequences of blah, which might be 1% related to tarot cards. Bale does visit a tarot card expert early in the "movie", who has a card labeled "Knight of Cups" on her table, but of course this means nothing. Bale is apparently a screenwriter but based on the fact that he can't communicate in any form of expression, I think the reason the Hollywood executives are willing to pay him so much is because he is on some heavy drugs and is willing to offer them a good deal on them.

Is any of this review making sense to you? If you think it is, then you must be Terrence Malick—a 72-year-old hack who doesn't deserve my money for a cab ride back to the distant planet he miscalculated his route from, let alone this "movie". Believe me, I've seen a white shelf at an art gallery with nothing on it being sold for $2,000 and that is definitely more artful than this worse-than-The-Happening, decimating-to-society load of garbage. And now that I know I will never have to witness something so awful again, I can experience something that Malick listed as his final title card in the "movie": Freedom.