It's been five years since I sat in a
darkened theatre puzzling over the cinematic output of Paul Thomas
Anderson. It was the peculiar final scene of his celebrated opus
There Will Be Blood, which now lives in simultaneous reverence
and infamy for its uber-quotable “milkshake” line and the ongoing
debate it inspires between “genius!” and “hackery!”. I'll
admit the bewilderment was initially off-putting, but there was a
fascinating quality to what I had just seen that held my gaze even
though I didn't understand it. Such a sensation lingers over the
entirety of his latest picture The Master, a spellbinding
head-scratcher which has been impressing critics and confounding
audiences everywhere.
We first meet Freddie Quell (Joaquin
Phoenix) stationed in the Pacific during the closing days of WWII,
indulging in all of his most basic animal instincts, from banal
activities like eating and sleeping to more masturbatory and
aggressive releases. Upon returning home, he struggles with his
readjustment to civilian life, hopping from place to place, his
unpredictable and violent nature being an unsuitable fit for polite
society. It isn't until he meets Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour
Hoffman), a charismatic preacher of his own spiritual philosophical
science called The Cause, that Freddie seems to find some direction
and meaning. The high-minded Dodd also sees in Freddie a challenge
finally worthy of his perceived expertise; an person he can liberate
from animalistic vices and refine as an “enlightened” man.
From then on, the movie becomes a subtextual chess match between animal and man. As hard as Freddie tries to absorb his master's education, his animal reflexes prove difficult to escape. At the same time, they also seem to rub off on Dodd himself, to the chagrin of his wife Peggy (Amy Adams), who is even more coldly committed to The Cause than he is. In the end, it's hard to say whether animal or man comes out on top within an individual. Anderson seems to suggest that the two must simply part ways and coexist separately from each other.
From then on, the movie becomes a subtextual chess match between animal and man. As hard as Freddie tries to absorb his master's education, his animal reflexes prove difficult to escape. At the same time, they also seem to rub off on Dodd himself, to the chagrin of his wife Peggy (Amy Adams), who is even more coldly committed to The Cause than he is. In the end, it's hard to say whether animal or man comes out on top within an individual. Anderson seems to suggest that the two must simply part ways and coexist separately from each other.
Or, it could be the movie is about
something else entirely.
That seems to be the only unanimous
reaction to The Master: What the hell is it about? While the
intentional ambiguities of Anderson's loose narrative inspire broad
interpretation and intriguing debate, many of the story elements here
are equally frustrating for their open-endedness and at times non
sequitur randomness. At the same time, there's something
intrinsically entrancing about this mystic movie. Anderson is
certainly a master in his own right when it comes to hypnotic style.
His highly selective editing allows us rarely interrupted observation
of the performances on display, and indeed, they are the film's most
magnetic assets. The dichotomy we see in Phoenix and Hoffman's yin
and yang is a masculine ballet of words and action, one which will
probably earn both Academy Award nominations. The muted production
and costume design evokes postwar America without distracting from
the characters, and Mihai Malaimare Jr.'s much touted 70mm
photography is a mesmerizing vehicle for Anderson's frequent long
takes, with its dramatic focus pulls and glossy choreography. Johnny
Greenwood's score wavers with the enticing dissonance of an orchestra
tuning its instruments.
Needless to say, it's a film worthy of
a second look. Perhaps the insight afforded by time and repeat
viewings will illuminate the film's more enigmatic aspects. Or
perhaps it won't. Either way, it's still a beautifully baffling
mystery.
***1/2 out of ****
