2014 movie
Rating: 16/20
Plot: Doc, a private detective, investigates the disappearance of a former lover.
It has the feel of smooth jazz, like 70’s cats who haven’t discovered the funk yet. But there’s this grime and gristle, and if it’s all hazy, who the hell are you going to blame? You can’t blame me. I didn’t write the book. That was Thomas Pynchon. I didn’t write and direct this movie either. That was Paul Thomas Anderson. How’s that for a marriage? A guy who writes abstruse novels thick with words and characters and a guy who, at least for two of his movies, ambitiously tackled two fistfuls of characters and themes and stuffed our screens with them. They’re perfect for each other!
This movie isn’t going to please everybody. If you want a narrative that makes complete sense, steer clear. Or maybe you just need to set aside a few days to watch this movie over and over again until the narrative becomes fully formed–like a sea monkey or an erection. Like obscure noir films tossed in a cinematic blender, this movie’s got all the parts of your classic fatalistic crime pictures but completely fails to add up to any kind of whole that will satisfy somebody looking for something like that.
But this isn’t a movie about story, and if you just kind of lean back and let the thing wash over you, you’ll feel–if you’re anything like me–just like you do after a pretty good sexual encounter. You’ll nearly pant! There are things that will frustrate you, unappealing birthmarks or a barely-perceivable odor, but we’re talking multiple climaxes here. This is a movie you have to make love to. It’s what I’m expecting from Paul Thomas Anderson–one of my two favorite directors named Anderson–from now on. This? Confounding and brilliant. The Master? Brilliant. Magnolia and Boogie Nights? Brilliant. There Will Be Blood? Freaking brilliant! How about a comedy with Adam Sandler? Nope–still brilliant!
This movie’s also a comedy although you could be forgiven if you missed that. I laughed several times, but that could have been the mood I was in. I’ve seen this compared–and not in a complimentary way–to The Big Lebowski. It’s not as funny as the Coen Brothers’ best movie. It doesn’t have the quantity of quotable moments, the auxiliary characters don’t stick around long enough to make you want to dress up like them and head to a convention, and it’s just not overtly comedic. But it’s still really funny, at least funnier than almost any Adam Sandler movie I can mention.
Side note: Of course, I couldn’t even think of Adam Sandler’s name earlier today. My daughter asked, “What’s Billy Madison?” as she was studying for her SAT (yeah, I don’t know either), and I said, “It’s one of. . .shoot, what’s that guy’s name?” My wife, a huge fan of Sandler’s work, had to help me out. So I’m not sure I’m the best judge of what is or is not as funny as one of the guy’s movies.
Brolin’s bananas, a character’s name Denis actually rhyming with penis, a line about what Godzilla said to Mothra (“Let’s go eat.”). Seriously, if you’re not busy being frustrated because of the incomprehensibility of this or its length, you’ll enjoy some laughs.
It does remind me of Lebowski in that it is more about showing characters working their way through these situations rather than creating a satisfying story. Also, both movies seem almost like lamentations or elegies for a past time. In Lebowski, you’ve got Vietnam replaced a new desert-y Vietnam that isn’t as good, aging hippies turned bowlers, Bridges reminiscing about being seven guys, the other Lebowski crying that the bums lost. Here, you’ve got this transition between the troubling free-spirited 60’s and the equally-troubling and often baffling 1970’s. You’ve got Brolin’s Bigfoot, The Man when he’s not imitating fellatio on a Bluth banana. And there’s Phoenix’s Doc who is the opposite side of the same coin or maybe just a side of a completely separate coin. I can’t pretend to know, and I don’t carry change on me anyway. The characters’ dynamic, just like the rest of the movie, is more than a little confusing.
Man, I really want to watch this one again.
There are a lot of fun minor characters. Katherine Waterston stuns as Shasta, the love interest. Benicio del Toro’s fun as Sauncho. Owen Wilson plays himself. Martin Short takes a challenging role and runs with it like he does everything else except with less Olive Oyl arm action. Eric Roberts, of A Talking Cat?!? fame, makes the most of his limited screen time and dazzles. And Joanna Newsom? Oh, boy. She narrates and shows up on screen–but maybe not in the movie’s reality–a few times, and I fell in love with her voice. And then there’s Joaquin Phoenix who, once again, gives this mesmerizing performance. He’s in nearly every scene–if not every scene–and it just amazes me what this guy does. Captivating. My favorite Phoenix moment is one where he reacts to a picture that he’s shown. It almost makes me laugh just thinking about it even though it’s hard for me to decide whether it’s the worst acting I’ve ever seen or the greatest acting I’ve ever seen.
The movie’s also got a cool soundtrack (Can!) and score by Radiohead guy Jonny Greenwood.
This movie will frustrate, but it’s colorful enough that all those parts add up to something that, if it never quite coheres, ends up worthwhile.
