The Master

Edited to add: After three different drafts, I finally settled on this one. Because of that, I probably didn't expand on some claims I made throughout this jumbled rumination. Some have pointed out questions they have for me in the comments; I suggest you look there for more (hopefully) lucid thoughts on the film and why I compare the editing to that of a Malick film and why even though I understand that the cyclical (what I call redundant) nature of the film is probably Anderson's point on a much larger theme, I still don't know if that's enough to clear up some of the murkiness of the film's thesis.

One of the most apt images of Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film, The Master, occurs during its opening minutes. The man we come to know as Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) dry-humps and fingerbangs a sand-sculpted woman; he then goes and masturbates by the ocean. Two things: we laugh at the absurdity of these actions – bored sailors during World War II on what we assume is a short "R and R" on an island – and then as they continue we kind of groan at the aimlessness of it all. It’s a fitting metaphor for the effect the film had on me: it’s as fleeting as masturbation. Sure, I may have enjoyed it while it was on, but when it was over, I realized that what I had just seen really didn’t mean anything. In fact, I think Roger Ebert’s quote about the film sums it up nicely: “[The Master] is fabulously well-acted and crafted, but when I reach for it, my hand closes on air.”

The story concerns a sailor named Freddy Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) who is struggling to reconnect to society post-World War II. One night after getting drunk, he sneaks onto a party boat where he meets Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), the leader of a group called “The Cause,” who is there for the marriage of his daughter. When Quell and Dodd first meet, there’s an eerie sense of déjà vu but ultimately the conversation stays simple enough and revolves around Quell’s drunkenness and his homemade hooch that Dodd is interested in. Dodd and Quell develop a relationship that begins after Quell’s first “processing” session – essentially an intense interview where Dodd asks Quell to recall past traumas. After this “processing” session, Quell becomes Dodd’s project of sorts (much to the chagrin of other members of “The Cause”) and the film is then, essentially, about these two elusive and enigmatic characters that try and make sense of the world they have so much trouble connecting to.

At least, that’s what I think it’s about. The only assured statement I can make about the film is that it has really good performances in it. Phoenix and Hoffman do amazing –AMAZING – things with the usual idiosyncratic Anderson dialogue, and I don’t want to short-change how good and interesting they were in this movie. Especially when Hoffman yells at Laura Dern in one scene, or when Phoenix freaks out in a jail cell, or when Hoffman sings to Phoenix (both Hoffman’s inflections singing the song and Phoenix’s reactions to the song are probably my favorite moments in the film)…well, there is nothing one can do but express gratitude for such acting. It’s certainly one of Hoffman’s best performances in a career filled with them (most of them in Anderson’s movies), and it certainly is the highlight for Phoenix – and actor I am always intrigued by – just edging out his underappreciated performance in James Gray’s equally underappreciated Two Lovers. When I say that I had trouble connecting to the movie, it is no fault of the actors. Phoenix’s facial expressions – his odd tics and giggles – and his face in general tell more of a story than Anderson’s screenplay. It’s an amazing bit of acting that is so good it almost overshadows Hoffman’s performance, which in any other movie would guarantee him every acting award this year. Anderson wisely frames his characters up close that we can study their faces. All of the film’s action is in the facial expressions, and it’s one of the reasons why I was never bored by the film: these two actors were always interesting to watch.

I also love Jack Fisk’s production design and Johnny Greenwood’s music and the cinematography by Mihai Malaimare Jr., but so what? Is it enough for me to merely point to these (obvious) things and say, "hey, look at that; isn't that pretty!" What does it connect to? What is the point? Look, I love Michael Mann and Terrence Malick movies; I’m okay with movies not being so much about a plot that drives the action as they are about philosophies or ideas; however, the difference is that those filmmakers (often confused with being auteurs who only value style instead of seeing them as auteurs whose style is also the substance) create engaging narratives that are either about process/duty (Mann) or man’s relation to nature/the nature of the world (Malick). Yes, the ideas expressed in those narratives may be ambiguous, but there’s a driving force behind them; there’s a director’s vision and voice that seems to be letting the viewer know what their intent was. A great film must have both the aesthetics and a narrative that keeps me coming back – keeps me thinking wrestling with its ideas not just its elusiveness – in order to move me beyond mere admiration. Anderson doesn’t give Quell or Dodd any kind motive to make we want to go back and consider what it was all about. Is this my fault that I failed to engage the film, or is the film's fault for failing to engage me? I don't know. Perhaps a second viewing will answer that (then again, do I want to see this a second time). Instead of The Master being some kind of enigmatic, elusive mystery about the motivations of its main characters, I felt like the whole thing was kind of pointless and masturbatory.  Yes, I wrestled (and continue to wrestle) with the film, but not in the same way that I wrestled with, say, The Tree of Life.

Some people have been disappointed in the film because they thought were getting some kind of story about the origins and inner workings of Scientology. Yes, Anderson had problems getting the film made because of Dodd’s similarities to Scientology’s founder L Ron Hubbard, but the film is not really about Scientology. Regardless, I think that’s a pretty silly reason to be disappointed in the movie. No, the reason to be disappointed in the movie is because Anderson’s Malick-like editing (many scenes involving Freddie when he’s not with Dodd seem like dream sequences) doesn’t help the audience get their bearings about what it is they’re seeing, the character their following, or what the director is trying to convey to the audience. It all just kind of hangs there in the ether giving the film an elusiveness that, perhaps, warrants repeat viewings (I’m not willing to give up on The Master just like I wasn’t willing to give up on There Will Be Blood; Anderson is too good of a filmmaker to completely write this off) but also is extremely frustrating in how repetitive it all comes across by the 100 minute mark.

Again, I’d like to clarify that I’m not a person that needs a clear plot to drive the action; however, what I found frustrating about The Master was that there really seemed to be some momentum after Freddie’s initial “processing” session, but after that great, expertly crafted and acted scene (Anderson is a, er, master at creating incredibly energetic and tense scenes of people just talking; whether it's Philip Baker Hall and John C. Reilly, Reilly and Melora Waters, Daniel Day Lewis and Paul Dano, et al), the film stalls and seems to play in some kind vicious cycle (especially after the 40th time we’ve seen Quell pace back and forth between a wall and a window, Jesus that collections of scenes was tedious) beating us over the head with the same pointless act after the same pointless act. Anderson may be saying that his life is driven by the same pointlessness and aimlessness that is represented in those island scenes, but, okay, what of it? What’s the point? I sat there in my theater chair and listened and watched with great admiration at the craft in front of me, but ultimately the film failed to engage me.

One last note for fodder: I have seen people talk about disappointed they are the film didn’t work for them. Paul Thomas Anderson is one of those rare filmmakers where, for a lot of cinephiles, his films are events. I have to say that if There Will Be Blood and The Master are any indication of where he is headed as a filmmaker, I too will be a little disappointed. I miss the Anderson whose films were filled with such operatic energy, madly paced and laced with (dark) humor. Again, I admire greatly his last two films, but if I had to choose between the Anderson of Punch Drunk Love/Boogie Nights/Magnolia and the Anderson of There Will Be Blood, I’d pick the former in a heartbeat. It’s not that there’s anything wrong or even boring about the direction he seems to be heading – there just doesn’t seem to be anything all that engaging about it. The style of his earlier films seemed to express content (see quote on the right side of this blog) whereas his last two films - as Ebert suggests in the quote at the top of this piece - is a lot of surface without depth. Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and Punch Drunk Love, those movies were interesting because the style and narrative coalesced so effortlessly. His last two films are arguably better crafted than those; they’re just missing heart.

Labels: 2012 Movies, Joaquin Phoenix, Paul Thomas Anderson