Future is Bright, The White Old Man Says

One Battle After Another (2025) - Anderson In a frenetic, unrelenting pace, Paul Thomas Anderson's One Battle After Another begins with the French 75, an armed and well organized Leftist group penetrating an immigration detention center and freeing immigrants near a dusty southern Californian border. Bob (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a resident bomb maker of the group, who is romantically involved with Perfidia (Teyana Taylor), an outspoken member of the group. They are seen taking advantage of a tense cat-and-mouse situation with the Feds for a lustful quickie at a pit stop. During many such activities - targeting detention centers, government facilities and bank jobs, French 75 is pursued by Col. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), a strong army man who has ambitions to climb up to the big boys club one day. His relentless pursuit pays off, and most of the members of the group are either dead, apprehended or went into hiding. This is the mid 2000s.

Fast forward to present-ish. Bob is a paranoid dad of Willa/Charlene (Chase Infiniti), a 17-year old high schooler. The two have been living in a remote cabin. For Bob, now a middle aged fugitive, after years of living in shadows looking over his shoulder, has become a couch potato with drugs and alcohol, as his strict regimen slackened.

In Lockjaw's pursuit of joining the elite white supremacist cabal named the Christmas Adventurer's Club(!), he has to prove that he is the purist Aryan stock, and has no dealings with any inferior race. So he tracks down Willa who might be the love-child of his and Perfidia's to eliminate any evidence of his impurity. So begins the Searchers like adventure of fumbling, middle aged Bob, with the help of a zen-like local karate instructor, Sensei Sergio St. Carlos (Benicio Del Toro).

One Battle After Another is a fantasy, based on Thomas Pynchon's Vineland, which was published in 1990 in the throes of the Bush Sr. regime. If anything, it shows that nothing much has changed- the kidnapping and deportation of the undocumented and overarching racism of the country. I say fantasy because as much as I wish that there is a well connected and well equipped underground network of leftist resistance going on in the age of tiktok, but there isn't. I'm sure it's a fantasy cooked up by right-wing conspiracy nuts also.

Narratively speaking, you can't not fall for One Battle After Another. With how it is put together: from how it was shot in Vistavision, accentuating the vista of American Southwest and heart pounding car chase sequences, aided by Jonny Greenwood's marvelous score, to to its stellar cast- DiCaprio has never been better as a burnt out radical, Sean Penn literally eschews his namesake comic book villain role with relish, Del Toro's hilariously deadpan but grounded zen master and the newcomer Infiniti with her clear eyed, whip smart Gen Z stand-in. The film is a great fun as it unfolds in satisfying ways - bad guys get their comeuppances, dad and daughter reunite, and a young black woman's empowerment fulfilled.

Anderson deals with the contemporary world for the first time since Punch Drunk Love and shows that the world is still in the grips of the old white men ways - the gungho military homophobic dickheads, sexual stereotypes that propelled the whole narrative, fumbling at proper pronouns and the white supremacy deep state. But relishing in showing it which is meant to be comic relief, the scenes tend to be super awkward and downright Tarantino-foot-fetish creepy - the camera gliding over Perfidia's butt over and over, Lockjaw's huge boner, and an uninspired gay joke. And it shows Anderson's awkward middle aged white man side when it comes to dealing with race.

But you gotta admit, it is refreshing to see a mainstream American film hell bent on showing the resistance side of things that tells you the kids are all right, even if it's from an old white man.

Tug and Pull

Phantom Thread (2017) - Anderson

If you love someone, do you want to emulate their ways of life or make them conform to your ways? Or do you compromise half way? Phantom Thread, PT Anderson's exquisitely executed film, is in many ways, more refined version of The Master.

Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a middle aged, famous designer of women's clothes- specifically, dresses. He lives and works in his townhouse in London and follows strict daily routine. His life is always surrounded by women - Cyril (Leslie Manville), his sister and trusted confident of his business and about a dozen seamstresses working for him. He can be fickle sometimes, and lets his irritation known when the slightest details bother him. Obviously he has mommy issues. Mostly, his life is all about work and nothing else.

Woodcock drives out to the countryside for a short getaway. At a restaurant of an inn where he is staying at, he takes an instant liking to a clumsy waitress, Alma (Vicky Krieps) of an indeterminate origin (never really pronounced in the entire film). He whisks her to his London atelier and starts measuring her size under the watchful, cold eyes of Cyril who quietly jots down the numbers. The process is all work, not desire. Her gawky figure is perfect for a fitting model. So starts a delicious tug and pull relationship drama.

Alma turns out to be much more than a muse for Woodcock. As difficult of a man he is to be with, for the man she loves, Alma is determined to show him that life doesn't have to be a constant work even if you are that talented or a genius. But Phantom Thread is not 'life lessons' kind of a movie, nor does it pretend to be one of those life affirming movie where a younger woman makes older, driven man stop and smell the daisies. Anderson makes it about a woman going to extreme measures into be part of the man she loves and he finally accepting it - there is something endearing and sexy about that, even though there is no sex scene in the film. Luxembourgian actress Vicky Krieps is totally up to the challenge against Day-Lewis who tones it down for the role significantly. And it's a beauty.

Rhythmic Passion

Junun (2015) - Anderson





PT Anderson documents the recording session of Israeli musician Shye Ben Tzur and Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood, set in ancient Mehrangarh Fort in Rajasthan, India. There is no title card or introduction for musicians involved or about the project. It's context free and all music. Anderson doesn't interrupt anything and just let it play. There are glimpses of beauty of Rajasthan through drone shot footage and some handheld outdoor shots. But it's all music and it's glorious. Interesting that Anderson decided to put it out through Mubi streaming right after its debut at NYFF this year. I guess these streaming platforms could be a playground for seasoned filmmakers' one-off experimental endeavors.

Surf Noir

Inherent Vice (2014) - Anderson

P. T. Anderson faithfully adapts Thomas Pynchon's most accessible novel, the zaniest surf noir, Inherent Vice. It is also the first time he's worked with a large ensemble cast since Boogie Nights. The result is often hilarious, a laborious snapshot of the end of the groovy 60s.

The film centers around Larry 'Doc' Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), a dope smoking Private Eye, as he helplessly gets mired into what seems to be an unsolvable case. It all begins with the visit from his ex-girl friend Shasta Fay Hapworth (Katherine Waterston) whom he still carries the torch for. She tells him that her new fling, a billionaire construction tycoon Mickey Wolfmann (Eric Roberts), who inexplicably hangs out with Aryan Brotherhood, is about to get kidnapped by his wife and her body building 'spiritual coach' boyfriend and put into a looney bin. But even before Doc has a time to react, Mickey and Shasta go missing.

With the clue "Beware of The Golden Fang!", left by remorseful lesbian masseuse who put him in the hole in the first place, Doc leisurely seeks out people who might have a hand in the disappearance. Is The Golden Fang a rock band? A front for money laundering association of dentists? Is it a schooner? Trained killer dogs with golden teeth perhaps? He digs deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine conspiracies while jotting down (un)helpful words and phrases- "Paranoia Alert!", "Spanish?" on his small notepads along the way.

Doc's biggest obstacle in solving anything, other than his pot fizzled brain and constant paranoia, is famed, hippie hating Lt. detective Christian 'Bigfoot' Bjornsen (Josh Brolin). As far as Doc and his mellow friends are concerned, the civil rights chomping Bigfoot is in cahoots with the environmentally irresponsible, now missing billionaire. To make the case even more complicated, the feds are involved and Doc enlists the help of his one-time girlfriend now a deputy DA Penny Kimball (Reese Witherspoon). But everybody has his/her own angle on this and everybody preys on Doc.

Dialog, with few exceptions throughout his filmography, hasn't been Anderson's strong suit (nor has he seemed to care). Here Anderson strictly sticks by Pynchon's snappy prose line by line with more than 30 speaking parts. The only big difference from the book is its narration by Sortilège (Joanna Newsom), or Leej, as Doc calls her. She is Doc's spiritual hippie gal pal who has that special touch. The whole time, I was thinking of Newsome as young and hippie version of Thelma Ritter from noir classic Pick Up on South Street. Her nasal, soft voice somehow works in a typical masculine world of Anderson and gives the film its lightness.

There is no shortage on noir references, or should I say noir archetypes here - you can find lineage all the way from The Big Sleep to The Long Goodbye to The Big Lebowski. The concoction of Pynchon's wacky characters with typical long takes that Anderson prefers, provides the actors plenty of room to shine. Its chaotic pace gives way to long monologues and long takes that last up to 5-7 minutes, the flow of the film matches with Pynchon's prose well also.

Phoenix, with messy hairdo and mutton chops, again, is brilliant in another bravura performance as doped up hippie PI. Brolin is a pure comic gold here as Doc's nemesis and also secret confidant. Other outstanding notables are Martin Short as a drug addled Dr. Blatnoyd who goes wild in the funniest scene in the film and Owen Wilson provides perhaps the most poignant moments as a confused sax player in a surfer band who got finagled to be a double/triple agent by various antisubersive groups.

As the drug infused haze/smog lifts from the City of Sinners (with their inherent vices), what's left is Doc and his dignity as the last vestiges of innocence and goodness in the flower child generation. As Leej says, "Doc may not be a do gooder but he's done good." I'd be lying if I like Inherent Vice more than The Master or There Will Be Blood. But it is an enjoyable romp. It definitely solidifies P. T. Anderson as a great chronicler of American psyche though out the decades.

Inherent Vice is the Centerpiece selection at this year's NYFF.  It opens limited on 12/12 in NY and LA, then sees the general release in 1/9/15.

Informal Processing

The Master (2012) - Anderson

A sprawling, ambitious work. I enjoyed it just as I enjoyed There Will be Blood and both of them happen to rely heavily upon the tremendous lead performances. Id vs super ego, embodied by Joachim Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman, is still very much a PT Anderson acting workshop but more subdued (still hurt my ears with all that shouting though). They still talk plainly what's exactly on their minds like lovelorn teenagers. There is no character arc, no change of minds in Anderson's protagonists. At first, they want to be sympathized with (Hard Eight, Boogie Nights, Magnolia). But after There Will be Blood, the writer/director seems less concerned with them being understood. They have always been arrogant, self-assured pricks. It's all about them pitted against one another for a dogmatic battle. There Will be Blood could have easily been called The Master.

Still, Phoenix is really amazing, slumped like an injured ape, slurring his words from one side of his mouth, so as Hoffman, red faced most of the time. Amy Adams and others are negligible, barely registering on the radar. PT Anderson movies usually annoy me. The Master didn't. I see it as a departure of sort for him. It's not a character study, doesn't have the strong narrative nor flash camera movement or innovative photography, even though it was shot on crisp 70mm (I do like close ups and constant shot from a low angle). Don't read this as a backhanded compliment. I really do like the Master. There are some great individual scenes in that film. I let out a short laugh and almost cheered Freddie on when he drove off with his bike near the end. I even liked the clunky ending. It might be my new favorite Anderson so far.