Showing posts with label Paul Thomas Anderson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Thomas Anderson. Show all posts

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Movie Review: Phantom Thread

Phantom Thread ***** / *****
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis (Reynolds Woodcock), Vicky Krieps (Alma), Lesley Manville (Cyril), Richard Graham (George Riley), Camilla Rutherford (Johanna), Harriet Sansom Harris (Barbara Rose), Brian Gleeson (Dr. Robert Hardy), Julia Davis (Lady Baltimore), Nicholas Mander (Lord Baltimore), Lujza Richter (Princess Mona Braganza), Gina McKee (Countess Henrietta Harding), Philip Franks (Peter Martin), Phyllis MacMahon (Tippy), Silas Carson (Rubio Gurrerro), Martin Dew (John Evans), Jane Perry (Mrs. Vaughan).
 
One of the reasons why Paul Thomas Anderson has been the most exciting filmmaker of his generation is because he seems to be constantly reinventing himself, and his films. His latest film, Phantom Thread, is unlike anything he has done before – it’s kind of a perverse take on the Merchant Ivory prestige film that dominated art houses in the 1980s and 1990s – except one directed by an unholy alliance of Stanley Kubrick, Alfred Hitchcock and Max Ophuls. It’s the type of film that keeps you on edge, not because it’s a thriller, but because you can never be quite sure what will happen next. The film snaps into focus in the closing moments – but not because there is a twist ending per se – but rather because of something deeper – you understand the central relationship more than you did before - but not completely.
 
The film opens on Alma (Vicky Krieps), who face is bathed in firelight, as she talks about Reynolds – and him making her dreams come true. The film then flashes to Reynolds sometime in the recent past – over breakfast with his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) – and whoever his current girlfriend is, who it is clear will not be in that position for very long. We then witness the first meeting between Reynolds and Alma – she a waitress in a café near Reynolds’ country home – and him a customer, who gives an absurdly large order, as a means of seduction. They then go to dinner that night – and he brings her home, and continues the seduction – this time, by measuring her for a dress. Reynolds Woodcock is, after all, one of the most famous fashion designers in the world. Cyril comes home, and sees what is going on – and in her way, puts (or tries to anyway) Alma in her place. “You’re perfect” she observes to Alma – “He likes a little belly”.
 
The performances by the three leads are impeccable – as almost all performances are in Anderson’s films. If this really is to be Day-Lewis’ swan song, he has picked a great film to go out on. His Reynolds Woodcock is the first time in years he has played a British character in years (decades, really) – and he slides into the role effortlessly. He is an exacting artist, and someone who needs everything to be perfect, or else it’s useless. He has his routines – and you better not mess with them. In many ways, he is the toxic male artist we’ve heard so much about this year – then again, that’s just the surface level. On the surface level again, Lesley Manville is a delight, essentially playing a Mrs. Danvers like role – quietly looking on from the sidelines, with constant disapproval and judgment. One of the comedic highlights of the film is to always find her in the background – and what she looks like. And yet, that too, doesn’t do full justice to Manville’s Cyril, who isn’t just there, nervous about being replaced. When she tells Reynolds, when his relationship with Alma is in danger of waning, that she likes Alma – she really means it. Relative newcomer Krieps has, in many ways, the hardest role of the trio – as Alma is the most enigmatic character. She has an accent, but no one identities where it’s from (Germany, I guess, but a comment about Jews and visas makes you wonder what her backstory is even more). For much of the film, you wonder about Alma – and her motivations. Is it simply that Reynolds is rich, and she was just a waitress before? Is that why she stays, even as his cruelty towards her increases? There is a turning point, involving mushrooms, where you think everything starts to make more sense – but it’s really the second incident with those mushrooms that does that.
 
The film is impeccably made, as you expect from Anderson. He acted as his own cinematographer this time, and does something rather remarkable with the look of the film – that really does recall the feel of those old Merchant Ivory films. The camera moves more fluidly though than those films at times recalling the tracking shots that made Max Ophuls famous, and at times slowing things down more, like Kubrick. He is aided greatly by the score by Jonny Greenwood – once again doing phenomenal work for Anderson (as he has done for his last four films. There is barely a scene without music underneath (an Anderson trademark) – and it works greatly to help.
 
I find I don’t want to say more about Phantom Thread – if for no other reason than I went in fresh, and was glad for it. The film twists itself several times, but it never feels like a cheat. The ending is the most important part – as it has been in many of Anderson’s films, putting what came before in a different light. On the surface, the film doesn’t seem quite as challenging as The Master or Inherent Vice – and yet, by the end, you realize it’s perhaps even more so – even more enigmatic, in a way that is thrilling, not frustrating. This is the best film of 2017.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Movie Review: Junun

Junun
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.

Junun is perhaps the strangest movie of Paul Thomas Anderson’s career – not because it’s really weird in anyway, but because of how the whole project feels like it’s something Anderson just tossed off in his spare time – which for a perfectionist like Anderson is the strangest thing imaginable. It’s a 54 minute music documentary about Israeli composer Shye Ben Tzur, Radiohead guitarist (and frequent Anderson collaborator) Jonny Greenwood, and a host of Indian musicians gathering at a monastery in India to record an album. Anderson throws us right into the middle of the film in its opening shot – a stunning one, that begins in silence during a call to prayer, and then breaks into song as Anderson’s camera slowly pans around the circle (he’s in the middle) to listen to the song played out in its entirety. This sounds like an Anderson shot – he is a modern master at long tracking shots, but doesn’t feel like one – mostly due to the fact that Anderson is shooting digitally for the first time, giving the movie a different look and feel, and also because the shot itself doesn’t move smoothly – it’s at time jerky in its movements, something that Anderson would normally reshoot. But here, he cannot reshoot, and he can’t just cut it out, because then he wouldn’t be capturing the entirety of the song – and it’s a wonderful one, and he’s not going to let that happen. Anderson does not provide any real context during the course of the movie about who or what is going on – he mainly spends the film inside the makeshift studio, watching the music being performed – only venturing outside – aside from some drone shots – with one of the musicians on an errand to get his instrument tuned. Other than that, Anderson just lets everything play out in front of the camera – as beautiful and mystifying to the audience as it is to him.

The star of the movie really is the music itself. Strangely, although Anderson is there because of Greenwood – who is probably the only musician involved that most people in North America will be familiar with – he certainly doesn’t concentrate on Greenwood at all. He’s mostly seen in the background during the recording sessions, with his hair hanging over his face. In the non-musical sequences, where Anderson speaks to the musicians a little, Greenwood is barely a factor there either – and neither really is Shye Ben Tzur either. Anderson seems more interested in the music itself, and the supporting musicians, than the two supposed stars of the movie.

The music is wonderful – and does something that I often complain music documentaries never do, which is to allow the songs themselves to play out at length. Nothing is more frustrating to me than watching a documentary full of talking heads explaining why someone’s music is so great, and then only getting 15-20 snippets of the songs in question themselves. Anderson doesn’t care for the talking heads, doesn’t really want anyone explaining the music – he just lets its play out, and lets the audience decide its worth.

The whole movie does feel like something Anderson did as a lark – a project that he took on to see if he could. It’s most likely not precisely what he envisioned – apparently he had a lot of fancier equipment that got held up in Indian customs, so he had to shoot with whatever he had with him in carry on. Junun doesn’t change the way you’ll look at Anderson, nor does it redefine the music documentary as we know it. It’s just a really, really enjoyable way to spend 54 minutes – hearing some great music being performed. It’s gotten more attention than it otherwise would have considering Anderson’s name is attached – and that’s a good thing. Because the music deserves to be heard.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Movie Review: Inherent Vice

Inherent Vice
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson based on the novel by Thomas Pynchon.
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix (Larry "Doc" Sportello), Josh Brolin (Lt. Det. Christian F. "Bigfoot" Bjornsen), Katherine Waterston (Shasta Fay Hepworth), Owen Wilson (Coy Harlingen), Benicio Del Toro (Sauncho Smilax, Esq), Hong Chau (Jade), Jena Malone (Hope Harlingen), Reese Witherspoon (Deputy D.A. Penny Kimball), Martin Short (Dr.Rudy Blatnoyd, D.D.S.), Joanna Newsom (Sortilège), Jordan Christian Hearn (Denis), Jeannie Berlin (Aunt Reet), Eric Roberts (Michael Z. Wolfmann), Serena Scott Thomas (Sloane Wolfmann), Maya Rudolph (Petunia Leeway), Michael Kenneth Williams (Tariq Khalil), Yvette Yates (Luz), Andrew Simpson (Riggs Warbling), Sam Jaeger (Agent Flatweed), Timothy Simons (Agent Borderline), Jack Kelly (Burke Stodger), illian Bell (Chlorinda), Michelle Sinclair (Clancy Charlock), Sasha Pieterse (Japonica Fenway), Keith Jardine (Puck Beaverton), Peter McRobbie (Adrian Prussia), Martin Donovan (Crocker Fenway).

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice, a faithful adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s 2009 novel of the same name, meanders more than any other movie in recent memory. It has a complex plot – all involving Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), a PI, and the various people who have hired him to work for them – and there is a lot of them. Somehow all of these plots come together in the end. Or maybe they don’t – but it doesn’t really matter. In many ways, the Pynchon novel, and now the Anderson film is a spiritual heir to Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels - in particular The Long Goodbye, which one of Anderson’s favorite filmmakers Robert Altman made into a masterpiece in 1973. Re-reading those Marlowe novels again a few months ago – after reading Pynchon’s novel – I was struck by two things about the plot – the first being how complicated they were, and the second how inconsequential they are to the enjoyment of the novel itself. In Chandler, it was all about the writing style, the dialogue and Marlowe himself. Although I also noticed how often in Marlowe novels the end result would have been the same even if Marlowe wasn’t hired in the first damn place – he’s there more to act as a witness to the corruption and murder of those all around him, than to really untangle it.

See, this is the type of film Inherent Vice is – one that goes off into tangents, and gets me off on them as well. I didn’t mean to start writing about Philip Marlowe, but I did anyway. And I’m leaving it there because it gives you an idea of what watching Inherent Vice is like. It is a movie that has a major through line – that of Sportello investigating the disappearance of Mickey Wolfmann, who is the current boyfriend of Doc’s ex-girlfriend, Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston), who asks Doc to look into what Mickey’s wife, Sloan, and her lover, may have planned for Mickey – only to disappear at the same time Mickey does, although perhaps not to the same place. But throughout the movie Doc will also be hired by a member of a black panther like group (Michael K. Williams) to find the Neo-Nazi bodyguard of Wolfmann as well. And by Hope Harlington (Jena Malone) to find her supposedly dead husband, Cole (Owen Wilson) – who will in turn ask Doc to look in on Hope and their daughter, because he can’t, because he has turned snitch for the cops. He’ll also keep running into Jade (Hong Chau), a “masseuse”, who likes Doc and warns him away from the Golden Fang – which leads him to a strange encounter with Dr. Blatnoyd (Martin Short), who then has an unfortunate accident with a trampoline. I haven’t even mentioned his lawyer, played by Benicio Del Toro, perhaps cast because he also played Hunter S. Thompson’s lawyer in Terry Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Or his sometimes girlfriend, a DA played by Reese Witherspoon, who is straight well on duty, and seemingly disgusted by the pot smoking Doc, but still visits him late at night for “pizza”. Oh, and the film’s central love story may just be between Doc and Bigfoot Bjornsen (Josh Brolin), a cop with a flat top, who verbally and/or physically abuses Doc almost every time they meet, although underneath all that bluster, there are really tender feelings that flow both ways – both often in silence.

I do believe that most of these plot threads are tired up in the end – at least somewhat. I also believe that it doesn’t really matter if they are and aren’t, because the movie isn’t really about its plot anyway. I’m sure there will be numerous internet postings dedicated to ironing out all the mysteries in the movie – and I’m also sure I won’t read any of them because I really don’t care.

So then what is Inherent Vice about then? Well, it’s about a lot of things – but most obviously it is about the rot that set in after the idealism of the 1960s, before Watergate introduced the mass cynicism of the 1970s. Manson is referenced a number of times throughout Inherent Vice – and Manson is often cited as one of the moments that killed the 1960s. Inherent Vice takes place in 1970 – in Los Angeles – and the spirit of the 1960s is all but dead. Doc is doing his best to keep it alive – he’s never not stoned in the movie, and has massive mutton chop sideburns, long hair, a ridiculous hat, and still uses phrases like “far out” ironically. But he’s going through the motions as much as anything – he’s miserable. He was in love with Shasta, at least as much as he could be in love when he’s stoned all the time, and now she’s gone. She has three pivotal scenes in the movie – the first as she walks back into his life, and gets him to care about something again – her, and the case she has for him. The second, a flashback (brilliantly shot in a single take), during a rainstorm, near the end of their relationship, in which everything seemed so idyllic. The third is the best scene in the movie (again, all in one take, lasting minutes) – as she seduces Doc as she talks about all the ways she has essentially sold out. As the narrator, a groovy chick named Sortilège says, the rot was already there, even in that idyllic flashback, even if Doc never quite knew it. Doc never quite knows anything. He takes a lot of notes during his interviews with people, and the cuts to what he’s writing (“Paranoia alert”, “Something Spanish”) get some of the biggest laughs of the movie.

How have I made Inherent Vice sound so far? Probably like it’s a dark, depressing movie. To be fair, it does touch on some very dark themes – but the surface of the movie is deliriously entertaining. It is a comedy- and often a very funny one. Altman’s Long Goodbye adaptation is one inspiration, but the Coen Brothers The Big Lebowski is another. And since Bridges is now far too old to play Sportello, Anderson cast the next best thing – Joaquin Phoenix, who is asked to do a hell of lot during the course of this movie. He’s playing a classic stoner to be sure but because Anderson shifts tones, sometimes even within scenes, Phoenix has to keep up. He has to be over the top one second, and understated the next. He has to suggest Doc’s positive and negative qualities through a haze of marijuana smoke. If Inherent Vice is The Big Lebowski, than Josh Brolin is John Goodman’s Walter to Phoenix’s The Dude. Again, at first it seems like Brolin is going so playing Bigfoot as very broad at first, but as it moves along there are different moments here. The connection between Doc and Bigfoot is underlined, subtly, by Anderson – and late in the film they apologize to each other like a bickering married couple. Like the connection between Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd in Anderson’s latest film, The Master, their relationship is too complicated to really put into words.

I know that Inherent Vice will frustrate a lot of people. It has so much plot, but isn’t really concerned with it. It takes wild tangents that are seemingly related to nothing – the delirious, cocaine fever dream with Martin Short, so great in such a small role, is an example. The tone switches from slapstick to dark and depressing and back again. In most cases things like this would signal that the director had no idea what he was doing – but here it’s all a part of Anderson’s grand scheme, and it somehow works brilliantly. This is technically the second time Anderson has adapted a novel to the screen – but anyone who has read Upton Sinclair’s Oil knows that There Will Be Blood is pretty much an original screenplay. This time, he faithfully adapts Pynchon – although he changes the ending a little, perhaps to not make it overly depressing, and he follows the tone that Pynchon set. That doesn’t take anything away from Anderson (who the hell else would even try to do this with Pynchon). If you are someone who wants everything to be wrapped up in a neat little package, for a film that goes from point A to point B to point C with no deviations, there are a lot of movies out there you can see. That isn’t what Inherent Vice is. It’s much more than that – and its why it’s one of the very best films of the year, and may just be the film from 2014 I will revisit more than any other, Hell, I wish I could go again right now.

Friday, December 5, 2014

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Conclusion

Normally, when I do these career retrospectives, I include a ranking in my conclusion – but with just six films, that seems kind of silly. Besides, with the exception of Hard Eight, I think I could put his other five films in any order, and not be that wrong.

What’s fascinating to me about Anderson’s career is that I think each of the six films he has made shows growth from the one that came before it – that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better than the one before, but I do think each shows some sort of evolution for film to film. Yes, his first three films could all be described as Altman-esque – with Hard Eight being something akin to California Split (1974), Boogie Nights like Nashville (1975) and Magnolia like Short Cuts (1993) – but the Altman influence, while undeniable, is also somewhat misleading and limiting – Anderson is hardly copying Altman in those films (and I assume, will not just be copying Altman’s masterpiece, The Long Goodbye (1973), in Inherent Vice – although, once again, the connection is undeniable.

Just as there is a connection between There Will Be Blood and The Master – both of which look back into the past to show the wounded masculine psyche in modern America, and use a pair of characters in each who go at each other throughout. The Master is a more mature, assured film – he makes both Hoffman and Phoenix characters equals, something he didn’t do with Day-Lewis and Dano’s characters in Blood. And the final scene between the two men in each film is similar – even if one ends in violent bombast, and the other not, they are similar. But both films are radically different in their own way as well.

To this point in his career, Anderson has shown time and again a willingness to take chances, to push himself, and take his time if needed to make his films. No, I don’t like having to wait 5 years between Punch-Drunk Love and There Will Be Blood, and another 5 between that and The Master – but as long as the result is a film as good as either of those two, well, I guess we’ll just have to wait.

I continue to look forward to what Anderson will do in his career next. He’s a one of a kind filmmaker – and there are far too few of those working in American film today.

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: The Master (2012)

The Master (2012)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix (Freddie Quell), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Lancaster Dodd), Amy Adams (Peggy Dodd), Jesse Plemons (Val Dodd), Ambyr Childers (Elizabeth Dodd), Rami Malek (Clark), Laura Dern (Helen Sullivan), Madisen Beaty (Doris Solstad), Amy Ferguson (Martha the Salesgirl), Christopher Evan Welch (John More).

There have been a lot of movies about the post WWII world of returning servicemen – from something like The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) which is about the trouble of adjusting to normal day-to-day life, and there have been many film noirs, about men not being able to leave the violence behind them, and getting sucked back into it. The Master is not quite like either of those films – and its starts with it’s with protagonist – Freddie Quell. When we first see him, he’s on a beach with his fellow servicemen partying – there is a lot of drinking, and sexual joking, but Freddie takes things farther than anyone else – miming sex with a woman that others have sculpted out of stand, before retreating – not to privacy, but off to the side, to masturbate. We next see him back aboard his boat – and as the end of the war is announced, he starts pouring his homemade drink concoction for everyone around him. After a stint at a VA hospital, not for any physical injury, but for a psychological one, he returns to America and gets a job working in a department store taking portraits. Even there, he cannot quite fit in – he hits on a salesgirl, then ignores her when he gets her alone (he actually falls asleep) – and gets himself fired by attacking a customer. He starts working as a migrant worker, at harvest time, and once again his weird drink concoctions get him into trouble. He runs away again – like he has done repeatedly throughout his life – and ends up on a boat. The boat is being skipped by Lancaster Dodd – who describes himself nuclear physicist and theoretical philosopher. They are going on a long trip – and the two men bond, somewhat. For Freddie, Lancaster is a man who seems supremely confident – who has all the answers, while Freddie has none. For Lancaster, Freddie is a fascinating enigma – a man who seems to be pure id, who does precisely what he wants whenever he wants to do it. Freddie is an animal – and he may be miserable – but he’s also kind of free.

Before The Master came out, there was a lot of press about it being the scientology movie – where Dodd was based on that churches controversial founder L. Ron Hubbard. That is true to a certain extent – the religion that Dodd has founded is clearly based on that church – but it’s much more than just a hit job on a cult. Anderson is a director who never really judges his characters – he allowed the sex and drugs in Boogie Nights to be fun, and the downfall is not really because of either of those things – and I don’t think he truly judges Dodd either. In an earlier scene when Dodd is being questioned by an outsider – which is one of only two times he loses his temper (he does it again late in the film, when a long-time supporter questions him) – Dodd actually has a point. The man is questioning him, but doesn’t really want Dodd to answer the questions – he just wants to attack Dodd, and point him out as a fraud. I   think the movie is clear that he is in fact a fraud – his own son at one point say “he’s making this up as he goes along. You don’t see that?” – but I don’t think Anderson really cares that Dodd is making it up. Like all religions, does it really matter if it’s true, as long as it helps?

Freddie is the one character who comes into Dodd’s orbit that Dodd cannot control, but he cannot dismiss. Everyone else bows down to Dodd, but Freddie doesn’t – he pushes back against Dodd, even as he tries to learn from him. Freddie is an ambiguous character – what precisely has happened to him. As played by Joaquin Phoenix, he is all right angles, strutting, sexuality and vulgarity. But he is searching for something, and for a while he thinks Dodd has what he’s looking for.


Dodd is a fascinating character in his own right. At first, I think he sees Freddie as a challenge – another “animal” that he wants to convert. In the several “processing” scenes, Dodd pushes the buttons on Freddie, tries to force him into something deeper than Freddie is willing, or perhaps capable, of going. He seems completely confident and in control – but as the movie goes along, it becomes clear that while he is the “master”, he isn’t fully in control. That would be his wife (Amy Adams), who controls Dodd as he controls everyone else. The one area she cannot control is Freddie – because Dodd will not let him go.

The Master is a fascinating, and an ambiguous film. I know some were frustrated with the film when it came out – Roger Ebert said that the film keep moving away from him, and every time he thought he had a grasp on it, he closed his hand on air. He initially gave the film a negative review, but then at the end of the year, he put the film on his list of runners-up for best of the year – with no explanation. That, oddly, makes sense to me. It is a film that sticks with you, that grows in your mind as you watch, re-watch it, and think about it. There are many ways you can take it – right up to the end of the movie; it seems to be suggesting new things to the audience.

It is also a great film on a technical level. Shot on 70MM film, this is one of the most distinctive visual films in recent years – the use of color is overwhelming. The unbreaking camera shots – that doesn’t quite move as much previous Anderson films. The film is really about the connection between the two main characters – who frustrated and fascinate each other. The two actors, Phoenix and Hoffman, are equally brilliant, but approach their roles in completely different ways – there scenes together are like watching two different acting styles coming together in a fascinating way. They are the two of the best performances in recent memory.

Like every other film Anderson has made, it is maturation from the previous film. If there was a problem with There Will Be Blood was that Paul Dano’s Eli Sunday was never a match for Daniel Day-Lewis’ Daniel Plainview – I think to a certain extent, that was by design, but it left the finale never in doubt. The final scene between the two characters in this movie is similar to the one in There Will Be Blood – but it doesn’t have the overtly violent bombast of There Will Be Blood, which was cathartic. There is no catharsis here – again by design – and that just makes the film even deeper, more fascinating and ambiguous. It is another masterpiece by Anderson.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: There Will Be Blood (2007)

There Will Be Blood (2007)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson based on the novel by Upton Sinclair.
Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis (Daniel Plainview), Paul Dano (Paul Sunday / Eli Sunday), Dillon Freasier (HW), Ciarán Hinds (Fletcher), Sydney McCallister (Mary Sunday), David Willis (Abel Sunday), Kevin J. O'Connor (Henry), David Warshofsky (H.M. Tilford), Hans Howes (Bandy), Robert Hills (HW's Interpreter), Russell Harvard (Adult HW).

In many movies, a character like Daniel Plainview would be viewed as a hero – the personification of the American Dream. He comes from nothing – when we first see him, in a brilliant 15 minute opening sequence, where he doesn’t say a word (he does grunt), he is by himself in a mine trying to find silver – working by himself, non-stop until he finds what he’s looking for. Even after an accident, where he breaks his leg, he doesn’t give up. He simply drags himself to the claims office so he can ensure that the mine he found, is all his. The film then jumps forward a few years – now he has some more money, some more employees, and he is no longer mining for minerals – he’s searching for oil. They find a well, they dig in deep, there are more accidents – there are deaths – but he keeps on going. When one of his men is killed – leaving behind his infant son, Plainview takes him in and raises the child himself, as a single parent. We then jump ahead another 10 years, and Plainview is now clearly rich. He goes to places where there may be oil, and makes his pitch – using that same child as part of it. He wants people to see him as a family man, and therefore not just another greedy company. He is successful – he comes from nothing, and makes himself into a very rich man. That is what America is supposed to be about, right? If you work hard, you can make yourself into a success.

But Plainview is not the hero of Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. He is a man driven almost purely by greed – and his hatred for other people. It’s not enough for Plainview to succeed, he needs to see other people fail. He is most comfortable when he is by himself, or with one of the few people he actually trusts (there are only two in the film he does, both of whom “betray” him in one way or another).

The film takes place over  30 year period, from the late 1800s, right up to the dawn of the Great Depression. The film is an indictment of the corruption inherent in capitalism – one of the pillars that America was founded upon – and when it introduces another character, Eli Sunday (Paul Dano), a soft spoken preacher who becomes fire and brimstone while preaching (while being as greedy as Plainview in private) and sees that as equally corrupt as capitalism – while at the same time being no match for it.

This was the most ambitious film that Anderson had made up to this point in his career. He casts the brilliant Daniel Day-Lewis as Plainview, and in an Oscar winning performance, Day-Lewis makes Plainview into one of cinemas most memorable characters – a petty, greedy man who wields his power like a hammer. When Eli challenges Plainview, it would have been easier for Plainview to simply let Eli have his little victories – but Plainview cannot bring himself to do that. He picks a useless war with him. Eli is no threat to Plainview – not a real one anyway – but it doesn’t matter. Plainview does not want anyone else to have a piece of what he has.

I do think that Plainview legitimately loves two characters in the movie – at least at one point. He does love his adopted son H.W., who literally becomes a silent witness to Plainview’s greed throughout the course of the movie, and knows him better than he knows himself. Yes, he uses H.W. as a prop – as a means to an end to make money – but there is legitimate love there, until H.W. “betrays” Plainview, through no fault of his own. Plainview also loves his long lost brother Henry (Kevin J. O’Connor), who shows up with a story, and who Plainview immediately takes into his confidence – hoping that he has found a kindred spirit (they do, after all, share the same blood). The scene by the fire, where Daniel confides in Henry exactly what he believes, and how he sees everyone else, is brilliant in misanthropy, and the only real time Plainview lays it bare. Of course, Henry will also “betray” Plainview – leaving him a lonely, bitter, violent man – which sets up the finale scene, where even though Plainview has won, he feels the need to go even farther.

There Will Be Blood has earned some comparisons to Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane – widely considered the best film ever made, and another film about the American Dream become a nightmare. But there is a difference between the two films – and its key. While Charles Foster Kane came from nothing, he inherits his fortune, that he uses and abuses. Daniel Plainview is a self-made man – the pure embodiment of what America is supposed to be – and his fall is even farther the Kane`s. This is a dark vision of America`s past – and it`s one that hasn’t much changed. It is also brilliantly well made by Anderson – with great cinematography by Robert Elswit (who won an Oscar), which portrays the oil fields as hell – the numerous fires in the film are meant to evoke this, and are brilliantly photographed as anything since Terrence Malick’s similar scenes at the climax of Days of Heaven. Jonny Greenwood’s unique score helps in this regard as well – an industrial sound that is somehow both modern, and yet appropriate for a period piece.

There Will Be Blood is a tough film – it’s a dark film from the start, and one that gets darker as it goes long, ending in bombast and blood – which is probably the only way it could end. It is a big film – Anderson does nothing halfway, and neither does Day-Lewis, who has never been better than he is – his performance gets “bigger” as it moves along, but it never feels phony. The film ends where it must. It is one of the best films ever made.

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Punch-Drunk Love (2002)

Punch-Drunk Love (2002)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Adam Sandler (Barry Egan), Emily Watson (Lena Leonard), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Dean Trumbell), Luis Guzmán (Lance), Mary Lynn Rajskub (Elizabeth), Lisa Spector (Susan), Nicole Gelbard (Nicole), Mia Weinberg (Gilda), Karen Hermelin (Anna), Robert Smigel (Walter the Dentist), David H. Stevens (David), Nathan Stevens (Nate), Jimmy Stevens (Jim).

I remember when I heard that Paul Thomas Anderson, who was my favorite young director at the time, was going to follow-up his twin masterpieces Boogie Nights and Magnolia with an Adam Sandler comedy, I was stunned. I was a young cinephile (some would say movie snob), who pretty much hated all of Sandler’s movies – finding an amusing moment here and there in Happy Gilmore and The Wedding Singer, but mainly thinking his films were awful. But in interviews, Anderson made it clear he was a Sandler fan – so, I was a little bit worried. Was Anderson really going to make a movie like The Waterboy. Why the hell would he want to do that.

I should have known better than to doubt Anderson. With Punch-Drunk Love he did something that at the time I would have thought impossible – and even 12 years later is something no other director has been able to do anywhere near as effectively as he did (some of this may well be because Sandler seems content with doing one lazy comedy after another, and only challenging himself once every five or six years or so). He has made a movie that took the typical Sandler protagonist – socially awkward, prone to fits of violent rage, and doesn’t see it as charming or funny like most Sandler movies do – but sees as dysfunctional. Sandler still falls in love in the movie – as he almost always did at the time – but this time it’s not with a woman who is a portrait of female perfection – but a woman who is at least a little fucked up as well (she isn’t given as much depth as Sandler – but enough to know something is not quite right there). He also structured the movie with a strange, almost dreamlike quality – with his bold use of color, and near constant use of Jon Brion’s ever strange music. Anderson did something I didn’t was possible – he made an Adam Sandler movie, that was still faithful to Sandler’s persona, and turned it into a masterpiece.

In the film, Sandler plays Barry Egan who works in an Industrial park in Los Angeles. He has his own business – selling novelty plungers, and other items – which is slowly building. He has also happened upon a loophole in a new corporate giveaway – one that will allow him to rake up tons of air miles, without spending all that much money. What it does require him to do though is buy a lot of pudding. Early in the film, we see him with his family – the lone boy in a family that has seven daughters –all of whom are loud, and domineering, and mock Barry mercilessly. He is desperately lonely, and awkward. He calls a phone sex line to have someone to talk to – and then discovers that they aren’t just satisfied with taking his money when he calls, but want to scam him out of much more.

There is also a romantic subplot – as he meets Lena Leonard (Emily Watson), a friend of one of his sisters, who finds Barry fascinating. Their relationship slowly builds, even though Barry’s awkwardness and violent tendencies (not towards her, his anger is direct inward until he snaps and destroys things). There is a scene late in the film between these two that is both touching, and creepy, as the pair talk about what they want to do to each other – which becomes a series of violent things about mashing each other faces.

From the opening scene in the movie, Anderson establishes a strange, dreamlike quality to the movie. In that first scene, a cab pulls up in front of Barry’s work, and without a world, drops off what looks to be a small piano (actually a harmonium) without a word. It’s just another of those things that happens – like the frogs in Magnolia. Anderson has several interludes throughout the movie – where strange, psychedelic colors take over the screen – that like the rest of the movie is alternately soothing, and somewhat creepy. The escalating, surreal confrontations between Barry and the phone sex operator – brilliantly played by Philip Seymour Hoffman – take on the tone of a nightmare.

Punch-Drunk Love is inarguably the strangest of Anderson’s films. It has a tone that veers between comedy, violence, romantic fever dreams, and a nightmare. It’s a film that could have gone horribly wrong – some think it did – but just like Magnolia, where a lesser director would have made a horrible movie, Anderson keeps it all under control. We go from scenes of Sandler doing a Chaplin-esque soft-shoe in a supermarket, to him violently beating the phone sex operator’s goons, to dreamy romance with Lena, and back again. It is a testament to Sandler that he saw this as an opportunity to do something different – and fully seized it, taking what could have been another of his lovable psychos, and making him more lonely, awkward, and somewhat pathetic. And Watson gives a great performance as Lena –a difficult thing to do, since the movie isn’t as interested in her as it in in Sandler. But she makes Lena more believably awkward, with only hints of darkness. Often you wonder why the women in Sandler films would fall for the psycho on the other side – but here, it makes sense.

The film is odd, but it is also endlessly watchable. I`ve seen it many times, and it never ceases to lull me under its spell. I do wonder what people who have never seen a Sandler film would make of it – you almost have to know his screen persona to know how great what Anderson, and Sandler himself, have done here. It is an odd film – but another great one from Anderson.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Magnolia (1999)

Magnolia (1999)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Julianne Moore (Linda Partridge), William H. Macy (Donnie Smith), John C. Reilly (Officer Jim Kurring), Tom Cruise (Frank T.J. Mackey), Philip Baker Hall (Jimmy Gator), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Phil Parma), Jason Robards (Earl Partridge), Melora Walters (Claudia Wilson Gator), Michael Bowen (Rick Spector), Jeremy Blackman (Stanley Spector), Alfred Molina (Solomon Solomon), Ricky Jay (Burt Ramsey / Narrator), Melinda Dillon (Rose Gator), April Grace (Gwenovier), Luis Guzmán (Luis), Henry Gibson (Thurston Howell), Felicity Huffman (Cynthia).

After making Boogie Nights, Paul Thomas Anderson pretty much had carte blanche to make any film he wanted to make – and he certainly used it with Magnolia. This is a film that only a director very confident of his own abilities – some called it arrogance – could possibly make. It is a film full of jagged emotions, that Anderson stages with operatic like flourishes. On the surface, it looks very much like a Robert Altman film – as Boogie Nights did – as it is another large mosaic of characters, who are somewhat connected. But it really resembles a John Cassevetes movie more. This is a film of big emotions, and wild flourishes – that starts with most of its characters at the end of their rope emotionally – and then pushes them even farther. If it didn’t work – as many of its imitators since have not – it would be insufferable. But Anderson pulls it brilliantly – making one of the best films of the 1990s.

The film is about a bunch of lost souls in Los Angeles. Frank “T.J.” Mackey (Tom Cruise) makes a good living hocking his “seduce and destroy” system of getting women, to pathetic, sex starved men. He gets on stage and spouts a lot of misogynistic bullshit, but does so with such confidence that people buy in. But his eyes are dead – there is nothing there – and eventually we’ll start to learn why. His father is Earl Partridge (Jason Robards) – who abandoned him years ago when his mother got sick – and is now on his deathbed, looking to reconnect. His nurse is Phillip Parma (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who tries to get this done for him, while Earl’s trophy wife Linda (Julianne Moore) is stuck in a loop of drug induced grief and regret. Earl worked in television, and one of the shows he produced was a game show pitting children against adults, hosted by Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall). A current child contestant is Stanley (Jeremy Blackman), who is tired of all the pressure on him – a lot of it placed by his father, Rick (Michael Bowen). A former contestant, from 30 years ago, is Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), still trading on that little bit of fame, and reaching out for any sort of human connection – but has that constantly thwarted. Gator’s daughter is Claudia (Melora Walters), who will not talk to him anymore – and has fallen into a cycle of drug abuse and promiscuity – but may be able to break free of that with the help of Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly) – a LAPD officer, and the only truly optimistic character in the movie, which helps in a movie this dark.

These characters circle each other, and Anderson cuts together their separate stories for maximum emotional effect, placing like scenes in different stories together. His style, like in Boogie Nights, favors a lot of long tracking shots – but because there are more stories here, his editing is almost montage like – and is tied together by the score by Jon Brion, and the songs of Aimee Mann, which run through the movie. At one point, late in the film, all the characters even sing along to Mann’s Wise Up – all while alone, basically singing to themselves.

Boogie Nights is, to me, a perfect film. It is a film that follows its premise straight from beginning to end, where everything makes sense, and is perfectly executed. Magnolia is a far more ambitious film – and it isn’t perfect – but it may in fact be an even greater film. In all fairness, this really shouldn’t work that well – it should come across as overly ambitious, overly serious and pretentious. But because Anderson – and his cast – is so committed to it, it comes across brilliantly. It’s jagged, and over the top and imperfect by design – and this simply adds to its greatness.

The performances are great. In his next film, Punch-Drunk Love, Anderson would brilliantly deconstruct Adam Sandler’s onscreen persona, to make it more disturbing and deeper than it has ever been before or since. In Magnolia, he does the same thing to the screen persona of Tom Cruise. Many have often joked that Cruise’s every character is defined by their “grim determination” – and that is certainly true in Magnolia as well. But here, it’s scary, disturbing and creepy – he isn’t a hero here, but a monster. But instead of leaving it there, like most would, Anderson and Cruise go deeper with Mackey – showing a human dimension to him (eventually). It may well be the best work Cruise has ever done. The rest of the cast is similarly wonderful – the deaths of Jason Robards (this was his last film), and Philip Seymour Hoffman make their scenes – where death is imminent anyway – hit even harder now than they did in 1999. Julianne Moore and Melora Walters both do great, drug addled performances of women who have simply had enough. John C. Reilly brings humor to the loneliness of his character, which makes him even more touching. Macy plays Donnie as pathetically human – he’s not all that much unlike Scotty, the Philip Seymour Hoffman character in Boogie Nights. A line that if repeated throughout Magnolia is “We may be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us” – and that’s ultimately what the film is about. All of the characters are haunted by events that happened well before the movie began, and must find a way to move past them. Some of them will make it, and some of them won’t.

I suppose we have to address the strange ending to the film (SPOILER WARNING) where frogs rain from the sky. I know to many, this seemed downright strange and unnecessary – and to be fair, I think Magnolia could have been a great film without it. But it brings the film back to the beginning – where Anderson tells three, quick, short stories about coincidence (or maybe not) of things that you wouldn’t believe happened – but they did happen. Strange things happen all the time. Magnolia is a film with unending ambition – and a film that simply looks better and better each time I watch it. Boogie Nights is a perfect film – Magnolia isn’t – but it’s a better one.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Boogie Nights (1997)

Boogie Nights (1997)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Mark Wahlberg (Eddie Adams / Dirk Diggler), Julianne Moore (Amber Waves), Burt Reynolds (Jack Horner), John C. Reilly (Reed Rothchild), Heather Graham (Rollergirl), Don Cheadle (Buck Swope), William H. Macy (Little Bill), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Scotty J.), Nicole Ari Parker (Becky Barnett), Luis Guzmán (Maurice TT Rodriguez), Robert Ridgely (The Colonel James), Ricky Jay (Kurt Longjohn), Melora Walters (Jessie St. Vincent), Philip Baker Hall (Floyd Gondolli), Thomas Jane (Todd Parker), Alfred Molina (Rahad Jackson ), Nina Hartley (Little Bill's Wife),Jonathan Quint (Johnny Doe), Robert Downey Sr. (Burt - Studio Manager).

It is impossible to overstate just how entertaining Boogie Nights is. It would certainly make my “desert island” list of movies that I could watch over and over again. The film is a classic rise and fall (and rise again) in the entertainment industry tail – the type that Hollywood has been making since its inception – with the twist being that it is set in the porn industry. This has certainly limited its audience – even after 12 years, I cannot convince my wife to watch it for this reason – but while there is certainly sex in the movie, it is played more for humor than anything else. What makes Boogie Nights special is how non-judgmental, yet clear eyed, the film is. Paul Thomas Anderson knows his characters are in many ways naïve, not very bright and have unrealistic dreams – and shows us that – but he loves his characters just the same. This is a movie that gives almost every character – however minor – a wonderful introduction, and then gives each of them a moment or two to shine – no matter how small their role is. When Philip Seymour Hoffman died earlier this year, one of the performances that I saw constantly referenced was his Scotty in Boogie Nights – a minor character no doubt, who makes his first appearance well into the movie, and has only a few short scenes, as the love-struck soundman, so shy and awkward around his crush – Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg). The same goes for pretty much every character in the film. Everyone in Boogie Nights will be remembered for Boogie Nights.

Wahlberg gained respect in the film industry – and went on to become a major star – because Anderson cast him in Boogie Nights (after Leonardo DiCaprio turned down the role to do Titanic – and suggested Wahlberg to Anderson). When we first meet him, he is “Eddie Adams for Torrance” – a “17 year old piece of gold” – who works in a night club, and meets Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), a famed porn director, who knows he has found something special in Eddie. Eddie has big dreams – but he’s still a kid, naïve and immature (the last time we see him with his mother, his argument is classic teenage impotent rage). Horner’s cast and crew is run like a family – with Horner as the stern, but loving, father figure, Amber Waves (Julianne Moore) as the “mother to all those who need love” (who cannot keep a relationship with her own son going), Reed Richards (John C. Reilly) as the goofy older brother, and Rollergirl (Heather Graham), like Eddie/Dirk as a teenage kid in search of a surrogate family to replace her real one. Other characters circle around – The Colonel (Robert Ridgeley), the financer, Buck (Don Cheadle), another porn star, a black man who loves cowboys, Little Bill (William H. Macy) as a crew member, repeatedly, and publicly made a cuckold by his wife until he snaps. And on and on and on. Anderson creates the world of porn, without judgment. The sex is fun for all involved, and so are all the drugs they do – until, of course, neither are as much fun as they once were.
The film is neatly split in two – the high flying ‘70s, when everything was fun, and the good times look feel like they will never end, and the money driven ‘80s, when everything comes crashing down around Dirk. He becomes the biggest star in porn, and his ego starts running away with him. He starts to believe that he is bigger than everyone else – and that his status as a porn star makes him someone that others respect, and look up to. This is similar to how Horner feels about himself as well. Both of these men have unrealistic dreams – Horner wants to make a porn movie that functions like a real movie – one that will make the audience stay to the end, even after they’ve, um, finished what they came for. The dream isn’t feasible – but Anderson kind of admires Horner for dreaming it anyway. There is even a little Anderson in Horner – as Horner initially rejects the idea of ever shooting on videotape, instead of film – and Anderson being one of the last holdouts for still shooting movies on film instead of digital.

The first half of the movie almost plays like one big party – the music is happy, and always pumping, and Anderson and cinematographer Robert Elswit, pull of several long, complicated tracking shots – like the opening, which introduces us to most of the major characters, and tell us what we need to know about them quickly, or another at a pool party that actually follows a woman under the water once she jumps into the pool. There are hints of the darkness to come – a woman ODs at that pool party – but for the most part, this half is just pure fun. It ends with another long tracking shot – but this one tracking a character descending into darkness for the film’s most shocking single moment of violence.

The second half details Dirk’s fall for grace – brought on by ego, drugs and the changing industry. He descends perhaps a little quickly (really, no other porn director would hire him?) – but Anderson wants to show how the industry changed – how it became more money driven, and how Horner – and Diggler himself, men who fancy themselves artists are no longer needed. It climaxes with what may well get my vote for my single favorite scene in movie history – a long, paranoid descent into hell as Diggler, Reed and another man (Thomas Jane), got to see the coked out of his mind Rahad Jackson (Alfred Molina) – in a scene that it set to Rick Springfield’s Jesse’s Girl, even as it turns dark.

The film just quite simply works on every level. When it came out, many compared it, and Anderson, to the films of Quentin Tarantino – and to be sure, the film has the same energy of a Tarantino film. But while Anderson wears his influences on his sleeve here – most notably Robert Altman – his film is hardly like the dozens, or hundreds, of late 1990s Tarantino clones that we all suffered through at the time. Anderson’s talent is all his own – and while others would try to do with Anderson did, no one really could match it. It takes ego and confidence on Anderson’s part to make a film like this – especially for a director in his late 20s, making only his second film – but Anderson dives headlong into it, and made a masterpiece.

Part of that credit belongs to the cast. Wahlberg is perfect as the naïve Diggler – who does some things we find questionable, yet never stop rooting for. He’s a little dim – but he’s lovable. Reynolds has never been better that he was here – Anderson smartly casting a ‘70s sex symbol to play the man, and Reynolds plays off his image well. Moore is a woman who truly does love everyone around her – even as the rest of her life is a mess. And every supporting performance is just about perfect. But part of it is a technical achievement as well. Anderson isn’t afraid of going over the top with the ‘70s fashion, decorating and music – and makes what could easily be mockable into something fun and energetic.

I will fully admit that it is perhaps impossible for me to me truly objective about Boogie Nights. It’s one of those films – like Stone’s Natural Born Killers, Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction the Coen’s Fargo – which made me fall in love with movies in the first place – and has been one of the films that I have watched more often than pretty much every other. After watching the film, I am never less than thoroughly satisfied – entertained beyond belief, and also emotionally drained – as the film hits pretty much every emotion you can think of. Often times, I think young directors try too hard, and try to do too much, and need to learn to scale a little bit before they make a truly great film. What makes Anderson, and Boogie Nights special, is that it tries to do everything – and succeeds. To me, Boogie Nights is a perfect film.

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Hard Eight (1996)

Hard Eight (1996)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Philip Baker Hall (Sydney), John C. Reilly (John), Gwyneth Paltrow (Clementine), Samuel L. Jackson (Jimmy), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Young Craps Player), Robert Ridgely (Keno Bar Manager), Melora Walters (Jimmy's Girl).

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Hard Eight is an uncommonly subtle, quiet film – especially for a debut director. Often times, first time filmmakers try too hard – they cram their films with too much stuff – as if they want to ensure they get everything onscreen that they ever wanted to say just in case they never get to make another film. But Anderson’s films is quietly confident. It opens with Sydney (Philip Baker Hall) offering a cigarette and a cup of coffee to John (John C. Reilly), a younger man he sees in a state of distress. Why is he doing this? The movie will, eventually, tell us – but it strings us along for most of its runtime. After this introductory scene – and another, where Sydney shows John how to get a hotel room comped from a Casino, the movie flashes ahead two years. John now follows Sydney around like a puppy dog – looking up to the older man, wearing the same suits, driving the same car. The men spend their time in casinos as professional, but smalltime gamblers. They may have well stayed that way – and happy – had two other characters not entered their lives.

The first is Clementine (Gwyneth Paltrow), a waitress and sometimes prostitute, that Sydney takes a liking to – not in a sexual way, but more the way he sees John – as a surrogate child. There scenes together are rather sweet – but Sydney misjudges who Clementine is – and if she’ll be able to change her ways – or even if she wants to. John falls in love with Clementine – but he’s kind of a dim bulb, and cannot see her clearly either. The second character is Jimmy (Samuel L. Jackson), a man who works casino security (in the parking lot? – Sydney asks, in a moment that could either be casual racism, or just a way to belittle a man he clearly does not trust). When John and Clementine get themselves into trouble – they call both Jimmy and Sydney to help – not realizing that while they can trust Sydney, they cannot trust Jimmy.

Philip Baker Hall is one of the best character actors in American movies – who has been given two great lead roles in the course of his career. The first was as Richard Nixon in Robert Altman’s great, one man movie Secret Honor, and the second is here as Sydney. He is a man who guards his secrets – he doesn’t let anyone in on all of them, but provides us with a few hints along the way. He is a man weighed down by regret – who is trying to do the right thing by John – for reasons we will only learn later. Reilly is fine as John – he plays him as a kind of clueless innocent – he doesn’t understand the world the way Sydney does, even after two years with him, and still basically acts like an overgrown teenager. Paltrow is great as Clementine – a woman who gains our sympathy, even if she doesn’t quite deserve it, as she is the one who gets everyone in trouble. Samuel L. Jackson is in fine form – adding another lowlife to his resume, and while he can (and often has) played these types of roles in his sleep, he doesn’t here.

Hard Eight remains the least ambitious film in Anderson’s filmography – but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wonderful in its own way. This is a Sundance film – but not a typical one. The mid-to-late 1990s were full of Tarantino knock-offs, and Hard Eight could have gone that way as well, but Anderson is too smart to allow that to happen. The film has a few of his trademark tracking shots, but it never feels like he is showing off. It takes place mainly in Reno – and Anderson finds the most rundown, unromantic casinos and hotel rooms he can find. Being a professional gambler is not fun – it’s basically a job like anything else, and the men go to work every day, hoping to just make enough money to make it to the next day.

Hard Eight is a notch or two below the rest of Anderson’s features so far – but it’s still a wonderful film in its own right. I saw it on VHS back in 1997, and I immediately took note of the directors name – knowing he was going to do something special. I didn’t know at the time that the something special was only a few months away.

Monday, December 1, 2014

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: The Dirk Diggler Story (1988) and Cigarettes & Coffee (1993)

The Dirk Diggler Story (1988)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Michael Stein (Dirk Diggler), Robert Ridgely (Jack Horner), Eddie Delcore (Reed Rothchild), Rusty Schwimmer (Candy Kane), Ernie Anderson (Narrator).

Cigarettes & Coffee (1993)
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Kirk Baltz, Scott Coffey, Miguel Ferrer, Bonnie Fidelman, Kim Gillingham, Philip Baker Hall, Michael Harris, Jennifer Kaplan.

When Paul Thomas Anderson was just 17 years old he made his first film – The Dirk Diggler Story. Inspired by a documentary he had seen about John Holmes (which I saw, years later, included on the Wonderland DVD, where Val Kilmer played the famous porn star), edited together using two VCRs, and narrated by his father, you cannot really say that The Dirk Diggler Story is a good movie – the acting is poor, and the visual quality isn’t very good (made worse by the fact that I saw it on Youtube, from a VHS rip) – but it is a fascinating movie – especially viewed in conjunction with Anderson’s first masterpiece – Boogie Nights, which he made just 9 years later. It’s interesting to see some of the changes in the basic story that Anderson made between the two films – Dirk and Reed are best friends in Boogie Nights, but actual lovers in the earlier film, the song, The Touch, is already here in its full form – but became a hit in the earlier film, and not just a joke like in Boogie Nights, and of course the ending is darker – ending with Diggler’s death. But for the most part, while he expanded Boogie Nights, and added many more characters, in many ways the two films are very similar from a story point of view.

The movie has a lot of limitations – Anderson clearly made it for nothing, and that is reflected in every scene, and the acting is not very good from anyone – not even Robert Ridgely, in the Burt Reynolds role, who would play a key role in Boogie Nights (as the Colonel). If Anderson had just left this story as it was in The Dirk Diggler Story, than I don’t think it would be anywhere near as interesting as it is now. It’s a view into the young mind of Anderson – who already knew what he wanted to do. It isn’t a great film, or even a good one, but it’s still a must for Anderson fans.

Much better was Cigarettes & Coffee (not to be confused with Jim Jarmusch’s Coffee & Cigarettes, which he was already working on when Anderson made this short for the Sundance Lab). Somehow, Anderson was able to convince Philip Baker Hall to play a key role in the film – and he, along with Miguel Ferrer, makes the acting in the film much improved from Anderson’s first short. He is also much more confident visually – it’s a simply shot film, taking place in and around a coffee shop, that follows three different stories. In one booth, Hall talks to younger man, who tells him a story of what just happened to him in Vegas – and a rash decision that he now regrets. In another booth, a young newly married couple argue over decisions they made in Vegas that didn’t turn out very well either. Then there is Ferrer, who pulls up in a car, makes a phone call, and comes into the diner. All of these stories hold off their shocking revelations until close to the end – culminating in a great finale.

In some ways, Anderson is trying a little too hard with Cigarettes & Coffee – especially in the writing, where he seems to want to show off a little too much – like he’s trying to be David Mamet. Like The Dirk Diggler Story, Coffee & Cigarettes is fascinating in that Anderson later spun it into his first feature – Hard Eight – concentrating on the Philip Baker Hall character, and jettisoning the other two storylines.

I don’t think either of these films are great – The Dirk Diggler Story isn’t very good at all, and Cigarettes & Coffee is little more than decent. But they are fascinating when viewed in the context of Anderson’s overall career – and are must sees for fans of the directors work.

The Films of Paul Thomas Anderson: Introduction

I will admit that I am a Paul Thomas Anderson fanatic. Out of all the directors working today, I think he may well be the best – at least right now (Scorsese, for example, has had a better career – but the recent films of Scorsese vs. the Anderson ones, and Anderson comes out ahead). He is a director whose films I return to again and again – and always find something new to them. As well, through his first 6 films, Anderson has never repeated himself – never did what many directors do, and simply make variations on a theme (or make the same movie again and again). To me, this would make Anderson the new Kubrick – not that the two share much stylistically or thematically, but because he is willing to take new chances each time out, and yet make films that are undeniably his.

His latest, Inherent Vice, opens on December 12 in New York and L.A. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to see it (I am planning a trip to Toronto the first weekend it comes out – I just don’t know when that is yet). Before I see that one, I figured I’d go make and watch the first six – and watch his two early shorts for the first time as well (a third short, Flagpole Special, made in between Boogie Nights and Magnolia, is as far as I can tell not available anywhere). Since I just compared him to Kubrick, I thought it would appropriate to follow-up my month long look at Kubrick, with a weeklong view of Anderson. Inherent Vice is Anderson’s 7th feature in 18 years. Let’s hope he continues on a faster pace than Kubrick did – and leaves us with more films than that master by the time his career is over.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Movie Review: The Master

The Master
Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson.
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix (Freddie Quell), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Lancaster Dodd), Amy Adams (Peggy Dodd), Jesse Plemons (Val Dodd), Ambyr Childers (Elizabeth Dodd), Rami Malek (Clark), Laura Dern (Helen Sullivan), Madisen Beaty (Doris Solstad), Amy Ferguson (Martha the Salesgirl), Christopher Evan Welch (John More).

When we first meet Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), we know there is something different about him. Thin as a rail, with a strange posture and walk, Freddie is all sharp angles when he moves – and he stands out from the other sailors standing around the beach, on brief leave from their jobs onboard a WWII ship in the Pacific. When the other sailors make a sand statute of a naked woman, Freddie barges in, and feigns having sex with it – at first to muted laughs, but then he goes on too long, and everyone around him becomes silent – before he sulks off, and masturbates into the sea by himself. Back aboard the ship, as a radio announces the end of the war, Freddie immediately starts draining the torpedoes of their fuel – to make his strange alcoholic concoctions. While going through a Rorschach test, in a VA hospital after the war because apparently he has a “nervous condition”, he sees nothing but dicks and pussies in the ink blots. We see him briefly at two jobs after the war – as a photographer at a department store where he drinks heavily, quickly seduces a co-worker and gets in a violent, unprovoked fight with a client, and as a migrant worker, picking cabbage, which he has to flee because one of his drinks may have killed another work. After fleeing, he sees a yacht in harbor in San Francisco, and simply climbs aboard. That decision affects everything that happens to Freddie – and everything that happens in Paul Thomas Anderson’s challenging, brilliant film The Master – over the next few years of his life. And yet, no matter what happens to and around him, Freddie remains – stubbornly and resolutely – Freddie.

That yacht belongs to Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), or at least Dodd says it does. Instead of getting angry at Freddie, Dodd takes him into his cabin, where he introduces himself as “a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist, an experimental philosopher, but most of all a man, just like you, looking for answers”. He likes the strange drink that Freddie has brought along with him – and he wants more. The yacht is travelling from San Francisco to New York, by way of the Panama Canal, and Dodd’s daughter is going to be married on board. This is a party, and Dodd invites Freddie to join them. By the end of the journey, Dodd will look at Freddie as “one of them” – although while Freddie acts as if he believes, what Freddie actually thinks is anyone’s guess.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, The Master is apparently the “Scientology” movie, and Dodd is based on their founder L. Ron Hubbard. Yet Anderson is not really interested in the inner workings of Scientology and what they believe. Yes, you get the “gist” of it – that man is haunted by their past lives, and they must free themselves of their burden so they can become the “perfect” creations they are meant to be. And there are multiple scenes in the movie when Dodd has to “process” Freddie to understand what needs to be done to “free” him, and then Dodd has multiple exercises that he forces Freddie to perform to achieve this goal. Yet Anderson is not really interested in “debunking” Scientology (much to the frustration of some critics, like Roger Ebert), because Anderson is interested in bigger things. American history is full of people like L. Ron Hubbard or Lancaster Dodd, who found “new religions”. Whether it’s Mormons or snake charmers or people speaking in tongues or Jim Jones and the People’s Church, the Branch Davidians or Scientology, these men come up with something new, and get followers – sometimes things work out, and sometimes they don’t. But what the share is charisma and confidence. You cannot, as one man at a party who challenges Dodd tries to, use logic on them or their followers, because belief – whether in a new religious movement or in one of the “old” religions do not require logic – but belief in something greater than logic. The people who follow Dodd are no different than any other religious person – they just believe in something else.

A less ambitious movie would use Freddie merely as a foil for Dodd. We see this all the time, where the larger than life character needs a more down to earth, relatable character to tell their story – to get the audience to relate to them, and hence give them a way into the movie. Think of something like The Last King of Scotland, where the main character is not Forrest Whitaker’s Idi Admin, but rather James McAvoy’s Scottish doctor, who gives the audience someone to relate to, and a way to process Idi Admin himself. But Anderson doesn’t do that in The Master. Freddie is, in some ways, more complicated than Dodd. He certainly is harder to get real read on. Yes, when he joins “The Cause”, he seems to be loyal to Dodd – he is willing to fight anyone who questions him, and he goes through every test that Dodd puts him through. Freddie is searching for something, and thinks Dodd may have the answer. But Freddie cannot change who he is – and maybe doesn’t really want to. The turning point for him may well be when he tells Dodd’s son that his father is talking and he should listen because maybe he could learn something, to which Dodd’s son simply replies “He’s making it up as he goes along. Can’t you see that?” The Master doesn’t condemn Dodd for this – in fact it implies that Dodd is simply doing what we all do. When Freddie accepts this, he may realize that he no longer needs Dodd to show him something greater.

And yet, in a strange way, Freddie will always need Dodd – and Dodd will always need Freddie. Although on the surface, these two seem like polar opposites, on a deeper level they are very similar (in fact, the final shot in the movie may imply something deeper connection between the two). Though the rest of the people in The Cause see Freddie as a hopeless case that should be cut out, Dodd can never do that. Freddie, while on the surface is the very animal that Dodd is preaching that man must evolve away from, is on some level, the very person Dodd wishes us to be. As he says late in the movie “If you’ve figured out how to live without a master Freddie, please let us know how. You’d be the first”. And it is the very fact that Freddie remains so stubbornly himself no matter what situation he’s in, that makes Dodd think this. And Freddie needs Dodd because he is the only one who doesn’t see him as an animal – a man acting purely on his own primal instincts. While he preaches that Freddie needs to evolve, he really becomes Freddie’s greatest enabler – the person who lets Freddie be precisely who he is.

The Master is a tricky film. Some people are going to have problems with the movie because it doesn’t spell everything out for the audience – it leaves things mysterious. To me, this is not a flaw in the movie, but one of its strengths – one of the reasons I find myself, days after seeing the film, thinking about it constantly. The Master represents another step forward for Paul Thomas Anderson – already, arguably, the finest director working in America today. The film has much in common with his previous film, There Will Be Blood, but is more mysterious, less intent on giving us the violent exclamation mark of an ending – a definitive ending if you will – to his movie. The final scene between Freddie and Dodd starts much like the final scene between Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano in that film – in an office, with one man behind a huge desk, and while there is violence in this scene, it is emotional violence – violence meted out with words and not a bowling pin, but the effect is just as devastating.

The performances in the movie are all great. Phoenix, returning to film after a few years to recover from whatever real or fake meltdown he had that led to Casey Affleck’s strange film I’m Still Here, delivers the type of performance I always thought he eventually would. His Freddie is a bundle of nervous, violent, sexual energy that explodes at times. He physicality in the role in wonderful – from his rail thin body, that he holds at odd angles, to his scarred lip, that he turns into a kind of menacing, cruel, mocking smirk and defense mechanism, Freddie becomes the most fascinating character in any movie this year – you spend the movie trying to get inside his head, which you only do by degrees. Not to be outdone, longtime Anderson collaborator Philip Seymour Hoffman delivers a performance of calm fury. He speaks more than Freddie does, and can wax eloquent and sound intelligent but he is ultimately a salesman. He, like Freddie, lets his guard slip occasionally – sometimes in ways everyone can see (lashing out at the doubter at the party, or yelling at longtime supporter, a great Laura Dern, who questions why they are changing things), and other ways more subtlety – often when it’s just Freddie and Dodd – private scenes that highlight their complicated relationship. If both actors win Oscars this year, they will be richly deserved. And then there is Amy Adams, who is great in a more subtle way than Phoenix or Hoffman. She is ever present in the movie – often in the background with her outwardly demeanor, but she never misses a thing. Her manipulation of Dodd is there, but buried, in their every scene together – or once becoming overt. When Dodd talks of Freddie being the first to serve no master, he may well being referring to himself and his relationship with his wife.

Anderson also painstakingly recreates the 1940s and 50s America – with pitch perfect art direction and costume design. This is the first movie since Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet (1996) to be shot in 65MM (and if you are near a theater showing it in 70MM see it in that format). This allows a different, distinctive color palette that Anderson uses magnificently. The cinematography is the best of the year – and Anderson, as always, favors long, unbroken shots. While in films like Boogie Nights and Magnolia, his camera was always restless, here it is often unmoving, but the framing is precise (take a magnificent sequence in jail with Phoenix and Hoffman in adjoining cells for example).

Paul Thomas Anderson is the best filmmaker working today – and one of the few who shows growth between each one of his films. The Master is not as immediate or visceral as his last film, There Will Be Blood, but is more controlled, more complex, more willing to simply let things play out without that violent exclamation point. This will frustrate some viewers, who want that resolution. But for me, it simply makes the film more mysterious. I doubt there will be a better film this year than The Master.