Thursday, September 27, 2012

REVIEW: The Master

The Master (2012): Written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson. Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Amy Adams. Rated R (Sex, nudity, language). Running time: 137 minutes.

3 ½ stars (out of four)

Many of the characters in Paul Thomas Anderson’s films, and particularly the two at the center of his latest, The Master, are unhinged and unpredictable. His films tend to be unpredictable too (I’m thinking specifically of the milkshake monologue in There Will Be Blood, the frogs in Magnolia, every scene in Punch-Drunk Love), but they are far from unstable. The style of Mr. Anderson, who wrote and directed this film, his first in five years, is always focused and assured. The actions of his characters are often bewildering and bizarre but the steadiness of his camera and the methodical pacing of his storytelling give us the sense that we are in good hands, that he knows where he is taking us.

Through the patient, almost voyeuristic lens of the film’s opening scenes, we meet Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), a World War II Navy veteran just beginning his post-war life. The military has diagnosed him (as well as the rest of a roomful of vets) with an anxiety disorder but, this being 1950, he receives little treatment aside from a pat on the back and a “Good luck, son.”

On top of that (or perhaps because of that) Freddie is also an alcoholic and quite possibly a nymphomaniac. He stumbles about his life, leering at strangers, taking swigs from a flask that contains a potent homemade cocktail – a toxic blend of booze and household chemicals – and is fired from more than one job.

On an impulse one evening, he hops aboard a boat where he meets Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), the leader of The Cause, a dubious religious organization, who is celebrating the marriage of his daughter (Ambyr Childers). The organization (is it a church? a school? a cult?) practices a pseudo-science referred to as “processing.” The “processing” method is essentially a psychotherapy session and at first does not seem to be so different from Sigmund Freud’s interest in therapy as a way to root out past traumas. The Cause’s ultimate goal, however, is to reconnect an individual with their past lives, some of which, Dodd claims, date back trillions of years. (Dodd is none too pleased when a vocal critic of his work reminds him the Earth is only several billion years old.)

It is easy to see how The Cause has gained followers. Dodd is a charismatic speaker and, in comparison to Freddie, who he soon befriends and takes under his wing, Dodd is a seeming picture of poise, authority and intellect. But does he actually believe in what he preaches or is he, as one character puts it, just making it up as he goes along? Dodd’s public image is further complicated by a family life that includes his domineering wife (a quietly menacing Amy Adams) and his son (Jesse Plemons), a member of The Cause but also a skeptic.

The relationship between Freddie and Dodd is an elusive one. Dodd seems genuinely keen on helping Freddie and, for all the questionable implications of “processing,” Freddie’s early sessions provide real breakthroughs into his repressed past. From there, things get murkier. Their relationship all but consumes The Master and yet, by the film’s end, it is difficult to know what to make of it. Dodd cares for Freddie with something resembling paternal love and Freddie reciprocates with an unwavering loyalty toward his mentor (sometimes violently so). There are also deeper layers to their bond that only occasionally bubble up and reveal themselves.

The performances by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman are stunning. Mr. Phoenix disappears into his role to a frightening degree, raving and shouting and physically abusing himself, while Mr. Hoffman’s subtler performance offers an interesting foil to Mr. Phoenix’s maximalist approach. Dodd’s silence and self-control make him even more inscrutable than Freddie.

Paul Thomas Anderson gives his actors plenty of room, shooting them in extended wide shots, then closing in for prolonged and mesmerizingly expressive close-ups. Working with cinematographer Mihai Malaimare Jr., Mr. Anderson gives his film a lustrous visual style (worth nothing, the movie was shot on 65mm film, a rarely used format nowadays). He meticulously places his characters in the center of a shot, leaving vast amounts of open space in the frame.

In more ways than one, The Master may be seen as a companion piece to Paul Thomas Anderson’s last movie, 2007’s There Will Be Blood. The legitimacy of religious figures and the power they hold over people was a peripheral theme in that film and it is the main focus here. Mr. Anderson raises interesting issues regarding the crossroads of intellectual and spiritual pursuits and the degrees to which anyone can trust either.

But The Master is foremost a dual character study and the most pressing questions lingering in the air after the final scenes are about Freddie and Dodd’s relationship. There are a number of deliberately open-ended mysteries, loose ends left tantalizingly untied. The lack of closure makes The Master Paul Thomas Anderson’s most vexing movie to date but also begs an interesting question: If its characters are frauds who speak in empty language, does that make the movie empty of substance as well? What was all the tension and drama building toward?

I don’t know. And I suspect my own uncertainty is part of the point Paul Thomas Anderson is driving at, or it is at least an intended effect of the film. Who’s to say for sure?

- Steve Avigliano, 9/27/12

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