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

REVIEW: The Fighter

The Fighter (2010): Dir. David O. Russell. Written by Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy and Eric Johnson. Story by Keith Dorrington, Paul Tamasy and Eric Johnson. Starring Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams and Melissa Leo. Rated R (language throughout, drug content, some violence and sexuality). Running time: 115 minutes.

3 stars (out of four)

Boxing dramas often tell the story of one man’s path to redemption. In The Fighter, we get two. The film is based on the life story of half-brothers Micky Ward and Dicky Eklund, and follows Micky’s struggle earn a name for himself in the shadow of his older brother and trainer.

Thirteen years earlier, Dicky (played by Christian Bale) beat Sugar Ray Leonard and he hasn’t stopped talking about it since. He’s known as “The Pride of Lowell” (his hometown in Massachusetts) and watching him mingle and greet local faces on the street, it’s easy see how he became a town hero. Following him around is an HBO film crew that Dicky explains to his family is shooting a documentary about his comeback. That comeback seems unlikely, though. Whatever talent he had years earlier looks to have left him. His current life is in shambles and his frequent visits to a local crack house make him absent for much of Micky’s training.

Micky (Mark Wahlberg), meanwhile, shows great promise in the here and now but can’t seem to get the fights he needs. His mother and manager (Melissa Leo) is too hung up on Dicky’s former glory to recognize this, and so Micky gets pulverized by guys outside his weight class just so his family can get paid for the match. He’s ready to quit the sport entirely when he meets Charlene (Amy Adams), a bartender who encourages Micky keep fighting, but without his family bringing him down.

The movie has an odd structure that shifts focus back and forth between its two main characters, leaving the viewer a little unsure of who the protagonist is meant to be. Dicky’s exuberant personality dominates the early scenes and draws attention away from the more stoic Micky, a dynamic that no doubt mimics their real-life relationship. Once Dicky hits rock bottom though, the middle third of the film consists of Micky’s training and rise to success.

This being a boxing movie, the story is a fairly familiar one. The Fighter’s surprises, however, do not necessarily come from the outcomes of the fights but from the source of the film’s emotional payoff. In the final leg of the film, the brothers’ relationship comes front and center. Dicky’s search for redemption is inextricably tied to his brother’s efforts to succeed in the game, and this balance of storylines ends the film on a very strong note.

This is also a movie filled with strong performances. Christian Bale leads the pack with a career best as Dicky, whose charismatic energy is a far cry from the stone-faced heroes the actor is asked to play in action movies. Once again, Bale has lost weight to play the role but his performance goes beyond a physical transformation or imitation (a clip of the real-life Dicky in the closing credits though shows that Bale’s acting is spot on). Dicky is a tragic figure who doesn’t have much to hold onto. Even his one proud accomplishment is believed by some to have been a fluke (“Sugar Ray tripped,” says a few of the locals). He projects a charming persona but is consumed by inner shame and Bale is thrilling to watch as a man careening through this complex set of emotions.

Mark Wahlberg gives a effective and restrained performance, though next to Bale he might be mistaken for underacting. The long-suffering Micky isn’t as dynamic to watch as his brother, but Wahlberg is a strong leading actor and can more than carry his scenes without Bale. Melissa Leo shines in a supporting role as their mother, a manipulative woman whose love for her eldest son comes through even during her fervent denial of his drug addiction. Amy Adams gets the opportunity to play against type as the feisty and sexy love interest and she’s a joy to watch in the role. Also noteworthy is Mickey O’Keefe playing himself, the upstanding cop who trains Micky in Dicky’s absence. Despite having no prior acting experience, O’Keefe holds his own amongst A-listers and gives a memorable performance.

Mark Wahlberg worked very hard to get The Fighter made and though the project shifted hands numerous times between different writers and directors, the final product shows no mark of its long road to theaters. Director David O. Russell’s past features have included stylized fare such as Three Kings and I ♥ Huckabees, but his work here bears the restraint of one who treads more carefully when handling another’s story. His presence is still felt though and the movie is wonderfully shot, particularly in the ring. The matches are faithfully recreated and easy to follow (even to a boxing novice such as myself).

The Fighter at first seems more like a pair of character studies than a plot-centric story, but builds over the course of its two-hour running time, slowly drawing you in. By the end, one can’t help but get swept up in the stakes of these two brothers. The final match is a requisite scene in any boxing drama, but it works so well here because the characters and story have earned our emotional investment.

- Steve Avigliano, 1/15/11