Following up There Will Be Blood was always going to prove troublesome for Paul Thomas Anderson in light of his varied career of works tackling broad scopes of numerous eras and genres. After the relatively epic sweep of his epic oil drama, it was a bold move not to dial it down and dilute the style he developed therein. The Master not only picks up many of the same themes but fashions them into something even more discordant and demanding.
A little before the end of the
first act, Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) is awoken by a stranger to be told,
“You’re at sea”. The person delivering that message in the literal sense is
possibly only partly aware of how apt that phrase is for Freddie is indeed a
man adrift. He’s a lost soul scrambling from job to job and misdemeanour to
misdemeanour after serving his country in the South Pacific in World War II.
Unable to settle down, he’s lead by the nose in search of hedonistic excess
and fuelled by any intoxicant he can lay his hands upon – as a spell drinking
developing fluid during his job as a department store photographer exemplifies.
It’s when his path converges with
that of a nascent spiritual organisation led by the enigmatic Lancaster Dodd
(Philip Seymour Hoffman) that the gears of a direct plot begin their slow grind
into the position they’ll occupy for much of the film. This is not a film
which concerns itself with grandiose character arcs; more concerned as it
with the eventual power play between the antagonist and protagonist.
As Dodd attempts to diagnose and ‘fix’
Freddie through the processing stages of his religion there’s a curious
dynamic at play. Warm with an undercurrent of genial malice, Dodd seems
enamoured of his new ward in spite of his “scoundrel” tendencies and it’s the
formation of a symbiotic relationship that forms the backbone of the film.
The strength of it lies in the subtly shifting balance of power to the point
where you’re never quite sure who's
benefitting more from Freddie’s betterment. Is his turnaround the redemptive
makeover an audience is presumed to root for, or vindication of a possibly
on-the-hoof doctrine?
Powerful scenes raise questions about this fledgling religion but the
mooted Scientology skewering is merely a jumping off point for an examination
of the relationship between these two outwardly different, but similarly in
turmoil, men. It’s in these intricacies that the joy of the film lies.
There’s no such thing as an easy answer or an easy question.
★★★★★
In discussing humanity’s need to always have something to follow it
doesn’t shy from tackling the theme of religion head on but it does so not
from an embittered standpoint, but from one of genuine inquisitional
interest and a desire to probe human nature. It’s neatly summed up in
typically impressive form by Dodd, who calmly goads: “If you figure out a way
to live without a master, any master, be sure to let the rest of us know for
you would be the first in the history of the world.”
There is a real sense of development in the characters throughout the
film and, evidently, long before shooting started. They feel lived-in and there
is the sense that both Hoffman and Phoenix know them inside and out. It’s
tempting to think that Phoenix’s entire experience with I’m Still Here was a
tentative fumbling towards his petulant and infuriating character here. It’s
certainly an astounding performance that will define his career from now on.
The interplay between the two leads sparkles with latent energy and in some
respects their relationship has more in common with Apatowian bromance than
it does with even previous Anderson films.
While on screen for little of the film’s engorged 144 minute running
time, Amy Adams' powerful performance as Dodd’s wife is impactful in every
scene and is potentially key to unlocking the relationship between the men.
She’s quietly dazzling and worlds removed from her stock in trade sweetness we’ve
grown accustomed to.
It’s certainly a handsome production. The captivating cinematography
of Mihai Malaimare Jr captures an essence of the 1950s period aesthetic and punctuates
the film with the most stunning shots of azure seas. Coupled with an avant-garde
use of editing techniques and dissonant score from Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood,
it’s as much of a joy visually as is it for those who enjoy grappling with
the complexities of a story which thrives on individual scenes as much as it
does their part in a whole.
Careful balance is integral and it importantly doesn’t outstay its
welcome. As a portrait of Phoenix’s character it exudes a sense of otherness
in every frame. He never quite looks part of this world and there’s an
overpowering sense of being lost in his surroundings. The fact you’re
unlikely to grow fond of him doesn’t make that any less touching and it’s the
quiet warmth afforded his character that makes this so extraordinary and
devastating. Some men just can’t be tamed.
While all this might sound well beyond po-faced and deep into the
realms of drudgery, there’s room within for exploration of a sweeter nature
with a probing of potential tenderness in Quell’s past, but even that isn’t
quite clear cut in a narrative sense. Humour flares in unexpected places (particularly
an exemplary use of a well-timed cussword) and ensures that the dynamics of a
scene are liable to uproot you at any moment.
It’s a rich, heady mix which simultaneously invigorates and numbs the
senses like a paint thinner cocktail. It constantly requires more of its
audience and the more you devote to it and invest in the world and the
minutiae, the more you’re likely to reap from it. It doesn't have the immediacy
of There Will Be Blood or the instantly accessible qualities of Boogie Nights
or Magnolia but it lights up the screen and it’s destined to leave you
stewing afterwards. Whether your reaction to that is positive or negative, it’s
invigorating and there won’t be any denying that impact was achieved.
