‘Tis the time of year when the prestigious films we critics and industry wags refer to as “Oscar bait” start to hit the multiplexes. The first such obvious release out of the gate is Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master (from The Weinstein Company), which opened in LA and NYC on September 14 following its award-winning premiere at the Venice Film Festival. It will expand nationally in October.
Anderson’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning There Will Be Blood is distinguished by
potent if often flamboyant performances by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour
Hoffman, a more subdued but surprisingly dark turn by the ordinarily-cherubic
Amy Adams, and elegant production design and photography that are showcased
especially well in the 70mm format in which the film is being projected in some
cities.
The screenplay, however, is a murky mash-up of religious
expose (particularly in regard to Scientology and similar guru-led
“cults”), a critique
of post-World War II American mores, and an unrequited love story (possibly two
unrequited love stories). Phoenix
plays Freddie Quell, a Navy sailor just released from service in the wake of
V-J day. To call Freddie an alcoholic is an understatement, as he imbibes
anything containing alcohol -- including mouthwash, paint thinner and even
ammunition fluid -- as frequently as possible. Freddie has even seemingly
suffered a stroke as a result of his addiction and is capable of speaking out
of only one side of his mouth. Phoenix
also employs a somewhat stooped posture and frequent placement of his hands on
his hips as more of Freddie’s idiosyncrasies.
After a fellow field worker nearly dies as a result of drinking
one of Freddie’s concoctions, Freddie flees and literally stumbles upon
the yacht of one Lancaster Dodd (Hoffman). Dodd is a published author,
philosopher and popular public speaker. He is also the head of a growing
religious movement called “The Cause,” which employs various unorthodox
practices. His devoted yet manipulative wife (Adams) and followers
regularly refer to Dodd simply as “Master,” and Freddie soon finds
himself under Dodd’s spell. Dodd unearths numerous skeletons in
Freddie’s closet through a series of interviews and uses the information
to coerce the too-wasted-to-care Freddie into what writer-director Anderson has referred to
as a pseudo-homoerotic relationship.
(SPOILER: The film’s final act is about as gay as you can
get, with Dodd tearfully crooning Frank Loesser’s “On a Slow Boat
to China”
to Freddie.)
Anderson expands to
some degree in The Master on the
power struggle between faith and commerce/social progress he more clearly drew
in There Will Be Blood. The
relationship that develops between Freddie and Dodd is more complex than the
rivalry that so palpably, memorably characterized Daniel Day Lewis’ oil
baron and Paul Dano’s evangelist. As individuals, though, the
Master and his toady aren’t as well developed and subsequently
don’t register as strongly. Dodd’s motives remain largely
elusive, and Freddie is a pretty hopeless case when it comes to The
Cause’s efforts to help humankind overcome its animalistic nature in
favor of the divine spirit with which we are imbued. Nevertheless,
Hoffman and Phoenix
dive into their roles with gusto and exhibit great chemistry. Amy
Adams’ work here is the real revelation among the performances for me,
subtly revealing her controlling methods as the film progresses. I loved
how her hair falls ever-so-slightly more out of place as the power her
character wields grows.
Jonny Greenwood’s
unusual music score, performed by the London Contemporary Orchestra, is
seemingly a character unto itself that generally supports but occasionally
clashes with the film’s flesh-and-blood protagonists and narrative.
Better utilized are the numerous period songs Anderson
incorporates, the most telling of which is Irving Berlin’s “Get
Thee Behind Me Satan” in addition to the previously mentioned “On a
Slow Boat to China.”
Anderson truly
is a master himself at using existing music to evoke setting and mood.
While many respected critics are drooling all over The Master, the opening weekend, largely
industry-connected audience I viewed the film with gave it a fairly chilly
reception. I foresee deserved Academy Award nominations for its lead
performances and in technical categories including art direction,
cinematography and costume design, but I can’t declare the movie a Masterpiece.
Reverend’s Rating: B
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