***1/2
Somehow while watching Paul
Thomas Anderson’s latest film, The Master,
I got to thinking about the composer Arnold Schoenberg. It was Schoenberg’s Five
Pieces for Orchestra, op. 16 (1909)
specifically which came to mind.
It is a work that utilizes an orchestra of Mahlerian proportions with
every instrument functioning as it would in a late Romantic symphony or tone
poem, only that the notes seems all wrong, and there is a meandering quality to
the music that leaves the listener stricken with a sense of bewilderment. But what a trip it is. However, by the end of the piece you
are left with the unsettling sensation that what you just have heard has either
gone over your head, or hadn’t at all and it simply is what it is. The Master left me feeling a similar sensation. For nearly two and a half hours I was
deeply engrossed. Here is a film
so visually rich, so well paced, and so well performed, that when about halfway
through I realized would go nowhere (much like PTA’s other films) I ceased to
care about its obvious shortcomings.
I was in it simply for the ride.
Paul Thomas Anderson, like Arnold Schoenberg, has mastered the technical
aspects of his craft. Where the
vagaries in Schoenberg’s work are pretty well accounted for—here was a man who
felt burdened by the limits of tonal music and sought release through
Expressionism—Paul Thomas Anderson’s lack of conveyance seems to be more the
result of a personal defect of some kind, rooted in existential nihilism*. Or, perhaps there is some message that
simply does go over everyone’s head.
Either way, there’s still a lot of worth in his work.
The
Master is set in the early 1950s and
centers on the relationship between a maladjusted WWII naval veteran, named
Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) and the eccentric Lancaster Dodd, whom they
call ‘The Master’ (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Dodd is the leader of a fledgling cult known as “The Cause”. Ostensibly inspired by L. Ron Hubbard
and the church of Scientology, “The Cause” seems to have firmer roots in
Buddhism, in which reincarnation is one of its fundamental beliefs, and the
direct exploration of one’s self is the key to unlocking life’s secrets. From our first glimpse of Freddie Quell
it is somehow made apparent that he is a hopeless cause. Perhaps it’s that dumb grin of his, but
gradually as we are introduced to both his unhealthy sexual preoccupation and
his addiction to his own brand of chemically infused alcoholic cocktails, it’s
clear there’s little that can be done for him.
One
of the focal methods developed by Dodd is a series of intense questioning
centered on past trauma called ‘processing’. It is these scenes that are the most well written and
meticulously acted in the film.
Through Freddie’s processing we learn of his incestuous relationship
with his aunt, and of the subject of his own personal turmoil—the unrealized
love with a young girl which war tore him away from. Freddie is a truly troubled sort. The ‘potions’ he’s addicted to probably kill off brain cells
in troves, and he has unpredictable violent tendencies. His devotion to ‘The Master’ and ‘The
Cause’ appears to be a manifestation of ennui rather being spawned from a
desire to get well. In fact,
Freddie provides little evidence that he believes there is anything wrong with
himself in the first place.
Lancaster Dodd is keen to help him, but as the leader of the cult is
equally as keen to help any prospective convert. He does take a natural liking to Freddie, but by the end of
the film comes to believe, just as his own family had deduced, that Freddie is
truly a lost cause.
I
don’t if it was intentional, but in this film Anderson’s repeated aversion to
any firm kind of resolution does take some effect here. From one interpretation the film could
serve as a parable to religion itself, as religion can be viewed as a grand
entity offering wondrous payback, albeit with the answers never being provided
to the living. Freddie Quell is
never given the answer to whatever it was he invested all of his time and
effort towards, and we the viewer of the film are left without any clear
message, aside from the possible interpretation I’ve just postulated.
Despite
its shortcomings, The Master remains to
be a work of bravura filmmaking.
Shot in glorious 65mm film, the images are beautiful and crystal clear,
and free of the pixilation and artificial glossiness that plagues digital
film. Like There Will Be
Blood before it, Anderson has a talent for
finding the right people to recreate period looks. The sets, props, and costumes are perfect to a tee, and the
actors are made up to truly look as though they come from another era. Joaquin Phoenix is nearly unrecognizable
(for a moment I thought he was Hank Azaria), but this is also a testament to
his superb acting as he breathes life into the role of Freddie Quell. In terms of consistency, there are few
actors that can match Philip Seymour Hoffman (John Malkovich is one). He is such a pleasure to watch, and
absolutely fearless when it comes to assuming a character. Also, the music by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead is very befitting and adds a certain punch to the
film.
Anderson,
as he has repeatedly done in the past, fails to deliver on all of the elements
necessary for a really cogent picture.
Given the scope of his films, a clearly conveyed message of some kind
would be the icing on the cake.
But, if ‘things are what they are’ is the only kind of message we are
ever to receive from him I suppose there is little we can do but accept it. Thankfully the packaging is
excellent.
*See blog entry, Paul Thomas
Anderson: One Shy Step From Greatness by
Ethan van Winkle (October 12, 2012)
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