There Will Be Blood (2007): Written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, based on the novel, Oil! by Upton Sinclair. Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano. Rated R (some violence). Running time: 158 min.
**NOTE: This review freely discusses the ending of the film, so be forewarned of spoilers.
“I’m finished,” says Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) in the final line of There Will Be Blood, as he sits in a bowling alley beside a pool of blood from the recently bludgeoned Eli Sunday (Paul Dano). This strangely understated and ambiguous statement has a few layers of meaning. In the most literal sense, he is calling to his butler in the next room to announce that he has finished his meal and his conversation with Eli, who was shown in by the butler a few minutes earlier. In a more figurative sense, the line is more of a declaration of victory, having ended his longstanding rivalry with Eli by murdering him. In yet another sense, Plainview, living in his luxurious mansion, has finished his life’s goals and has lived out the American Dream. He has built a prosperous business from nothing, beat out his competition, made all the money he could want, and now he sits with nothing more to do.
The film is set at the turn of the 20th century when such dreams of boundless potential were on the minds of so many pioneering Americans out West. California was an open frontier for business prospects, and railroads stretched across the country taking workers and businessmen to burgeoning towns to start their lives fresh. In the film’s first shot of the expansive California landscape, director Paul Thomas Anderson presents us with an idyllic view of a railroad track that extends out to the horizon, a beautiful visualization of the limitless possibilities offered by the open country. The camera rests for a moment with the tracks in the center of the frame, before panning to the right and following Plainview’s car as he drives through one of these developing Western towns. The camera moves down the track until Plainview’s car comes to a stop, centered in the frame. In one fluid shot, Anderson presents us with an image of the American Dream, and makes a visual association with Plainview by also placing him in the center of the frame. Later in the film, Anderson constructs a similar moment, showing an oil pipeline stretching into the horizon before panning over to Plainview and his son, once again centered in the frame.
Daniel Plainview does not simply represent the American Dream in the film; he is consumed by it. He lives for nothing else but to be the best. He despises his competitors in the oil industry and distrusts all who work for him. He refuses to yield to anyone, least of all Eli Sunday, a young preacher who invests in Plainview’s oil rig as a way of funding his church. Plainview answers to no man but himself, and Eli’s attempts to bring God into Plainview’s life only serve to antagonize him. Eli, like every other man on the Western Frontier, wants to capitalize on the opportunity to build something. In his case, he desires to build a church, establish a congregation and have them look up to him for guidance. For Plainview, Eli’s determination represents a threat to his own goals and he refuses to allow the young boy to gain control over his land. As Plainview’s ambitions turn to greed, he becomes obsessive and violent, revealing a madness beneath his businesslike demeanor.
This development in Plainview’s character, however, is hardly a surprise considering the film’s foreboding title. Anderson plays with our expectations by naming his film There Will Be Blood and by using a score by Johnny Greenwood that frequently sounds as if it was lifted from a horror film. Even the opening shots of beautiful Western landscapes become ominous when accompanied by Greenwood’s score. The title itself could be that of a horror film (in fact, Saw II used the phrase in its tagline two years prior). The title also makes reference to America’s history of violence in pursuit of oil, and makes an interesting contrast to the title of Upton Sinclair’s novel, Oil!, from which the film is adapted. Though the actual violence in the film is not as rampant as the title suggests, it becomes all the more shocking in its sparsity, and Anderson’s gradual pacing allows the tension to build and release at unexpected moments.
Much of the film, including its deliberate pacing and musical score, is reminiscent of the late Stanley Kubrick’s style. Anderson has never been shy about admitting his influences, most notably Robert Altman and Martin Scorsese, and has cited Kubrick as an influence on this film. In the opening fifteen minutes, Anderson has the patience to let wide-angle landscape shots establish a setting while scenes free of dialogue introduce the story, not unlike 2001’s “Dawn of Man” opening. The film is also a spiritual cousin to many of Kubrick’s films, sharing their bleak outlook on humanity.
However, Anderson includes enough mystery and strangeness in the film to make it his own. Several elements of the film go largely unexplained, such as the identity of Eli’s twin brother, Paul, who only appears once in the film to sell Plainview information about his family’s land. The two brothers might be separate individuals, but there are enough suspicious moments to suggest that Paul might be an invention of Eli’s to keep a clean conscious about selling his family’s property to an evil man. Other scenes, including Eli’s strange and passionate sermons, and Plainview’s now-infamous milkshake analogy, are as startling as they are funny, but Anderson pulls everything together with complete mastery into a bleak interpretation of America’s most treasured values – family, faith, and entrepreneurship.
Before the final, violent confrontation, Anderson presents us with an establishing shot of Plainview’s bowling alley, two parallel lanes centered in the frame, looking curiously reminiscent of the earlier railroad shot. In place of the horizon, however, is a wall. Plainview has reached the end of that supposedly infinite reach of possibilities, revealing there to be nothing more than death and self-isolation as he sits in the center of the frame once more. He has lived the American Dream from start to bloody finish.
- Steve Avigliano, 2/8/10
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