Runtime: 2 hours, 16 minutes
Rating: R
Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Quick Impressions:
My eyes hurt. I think that’s because I just stared intently at a movie screen for over two hours without blinking once. I feel like I’ve just been audited—no, sorry, processed. (For some reason, we’re pretending The Master is not necessarily about Scientology. It kind of reminds me of when I was cast in Godspell my senior year of high school. Halfway through rehearsals we received instructions from a higher power—I think the principal—not to call the character playing Jesus by name in order to avoid controversy. So we dropped the name and pretended we were just talking to some random guy coincidentally delivering all the red-printed lines from the Gospel of Matthew.)
Let me take a step back and admit that in the past, I’ve never connected to the films of Paul Thomas Anderson, specifically Magnolia and There Will Be Blood. (I’ve only seen parts of Boogie Nights, and I won’t tell you whose.) It’s not that I think Anderson’s films are lacking in artistic merit. It’s just that, normally, I don’t enjoy them. It’s not for lack of trying, either. Every time I happen upon the beginning of the movie Magnolia, I sit down and try to watch it, thinking, This time, I know I’ll love it. (I’m serious. This has happened at least four times. And I’ll admit, I do love the opening.) A friend once told me that Magnolia was one of the greatest films made in our lifetime, but I just don’t feel it.
In the past, Anderson and I have just never been on the same page. Watching his films, I always feel like he’s on a page from one of those literary works I failed to connect with in high school, usually a short story where all the important characters are boys, and nothing coherent ever happens, yet at the end, the boys have a tacit understanding that they’ve shared a profound experience and are now men, though they can never explain this in words and know they need not try. (I know that’s a run-on sentence. That’s what most of Anderson’s films feel like to me. There Will Be Blood did, at least, inspire me to re-watch The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and I enjoyed that very much.)
Despite all this, I’ve been very excited to see The Master, and I’m happy to report that I liked it much more than any other P.T. Anderson movie I’ve ever seen. I’m willing to believe that all of his films are brilliant, but I actually see the brilliance in this one for myself. Has Anderson changed? (I doubt it.) Have I? (Maybe I’ve finally become a man!)
I’m not sure if it’s curiosity about the subject, affinity for the material, love of the period, enchantment with the actors, or delight in the tight focus, but I loved The Master, and I finally feel like I get a P.T. Anderson movie!
My eyes never left the screen. I was afraid to look away. (My husband felt the same way. Every scene had such tension, such energy. There were few moments when looking away seemed even an option.) The Master was riveting, raising so many questions that my mind moved a mile a minute. I feel like I could sit and discuss the film for hours on end. I really loved it and found it fascinating.
The Good:
This movie should win the Oscar for Original Score. (That’s a ridiculously bold statement since I’ve seen very few contenders so far, but I feel pretty strongly about it. At one point in the movie, I leaned over and said to my husband, “This should be nominated for score,” and he replied, “I was just about to say the same thing.” Since we were the only ones in the theater, we didn’t mind going on about it and didn’t bother to whisper.) The last time we both had the same hunch about a movie’s score at the same time, the film was Atonement, which did indeed go on to receive the Original Score Oscar. Working hand-in-hand with the cinematography, the score establishes mood, provides transitions, and builds
and maintains tension from scene to scene.
The soundtrack is fabulous, too. In fact, the final scene of the movie is amazingly poignant and seems to sum up one of the film’s major statements (or, if you prefer, questions). I won’t spoil the image (so resonant), but the song is “Changing Partners,” and the two
come together to get the point across brilliantly providing a perfect ending for the film. (The scene in the department store showcased by Ella Fitzgerald singing “Get Thee Behind Me Satan” does much to develop the character of Freddie and set the scene for the story to come and also deserves mention.)
Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead scored the film and ought to win an Oscar. Of course, other people’s work may prove equally worthy. But it will be a crime if Greenwood doesn’t receive at the least a nomination.
Visually, The Master is also stunning. Each scene is visually arresting, obviously carefully framed, and enormously successful at not only making an impression but at creating an overall aesthetic that helps to advance the story and shape it into a cohesive work of art. I love the repeated shots of the ocean that bookend the story and occasionally interrupt it. (They don’t only interrupt it. They also advance it. Those sound like contradictory activities, but in this case, I don’t think so.)
The film also won my adoration by focusing on a subject that fascinates me endlessly. I’m not sure why I have such morbid curiosity about Scientology. (But I am sure that now that I’ve admitted that on the internet, I’ll probably get some phone calls and brochures, especially when I also divulge that I regularly “get muscle spasms for no reason.” (In fact, a neurologist actually gave me exactly that extremely unsatisfying diagnosis.)
Who isn’t fascinated by the human condition? (Maybe the answer is those too drunk to care.) Without spoilers, I can say that The Master takes a great interest in the meaning of life, the nature of success, and the way one ought to live. The title ostensibly refers to guru/mystic/soul-healer/lunatic?/cult-leader?/ not L. Ron Hubbard alter-ego (wink-wink) Lancaster Dodd, (compellingly played by the always brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman at his most charismatic). But I think The Master also suggests that we must master our baser passions, that we can master certain techniques, that we want to be our own master, that life is easier when you’re on a vessel with a mast. The title is amazingly apt (and much classier than The Master Baiter and the Masturbator, an also at moments apt alternative title suggested by no one but me at this very instant).
Even though I’ve admitted an interest in (maybe more a lurid fascination with) Scientology, I actually don’t know much about it. But for years I’ve had more than a passing interest in psychology (particularly the abnormal variety), and of course, as both a student of literature and a writer of fiction, I have quite a passion for character studies. The Master provides plenty of material for that. Central characters Lancaster Dodd, Freddie Quell, and Peggy Dodd are rich and vivid enough to prompt days of discussion.
Another nice aspect of the movie is its ambiguity. Even though few would call it a glowing endorsement of Dodd and his movement, it’s certainly not a scathing indictment either. What to make of Lancaster Dodd? What to think about Freddie Quell’s ultimate decision? I know what I think of the ending, but someone else could view the matter quite differently. Plus even though it’s hard not to identify Dodd’s movement with Scientology, the movie isn’t really any more about Scientology than it is about questions of faith in general.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Amy Adams):
I thought Amy Adams deserved a nomination for Enchanted. (Try to imagine another actress selling the character of fish-out-of-water fairy tale princess Giselle. And the whole movie is built around the performance. With a less capable lead, the movie would have been a grotesque, laughable failure.) I also thought she deserved to win when she was nominated for Doubt. (To be clear, Viola Davis deserved a win, too, and so did Penelope Cruz, who won.)
I love her here. As we left the theater, my husband and I said in unison, “I thought that was Amy Adams’s best performance.” (At this point, you may be rolling your eyes and realizing that my husband and I are one of those annoying couples so in sync that it’s almost eerie. Well, wait until you get a load of the Dodds!) From the moment Adams showed up in her first close-up, I loved her performance as Dodd’s beyond-devoted wife Peggy. In fact, I was quite distressed that my husband accidentally missed her first scene by choosing that moment to run to the bathroom. I thought, Not now, you fool! Amy Adams is emanating a wonderful, creepy sincerity. Fortunately for him, however, she had plenty of wonderful, creepy sincerity left in her.
She’s fantastic whenever she appears. Probably her strongest moment comes around the family dinner table, although that first scene that my husband inadvertently missed just might be my favorite. Her choice of words when describing her preference for the sea reveals her slightly fanatical devotion to her husband’s cause and more than slightly scary devotion to her husband himself.
I’m kind of hoping Adams wins an Oscar for this because it’s the most against her usual type that she’s ever been in a high profile role.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Philip Seymour Hoffman):
Like Adams, Hoffman as the arresting Lancaster Dodd doesn’t have a bad scene in this movie, and he has a lot more scenes. Probably my favorite moment from him comes in the drawing room in New York when a skeptic interrupts his demonstration. Even though the agitator in the doorway presents the more logical position, it’s remarkably hard not to sympathize with Dodd in the moment since Hoffman makes him so dignified and eloquent. Without a doubt, the interrupter’s entire intention is to stir up trouble. The man has no interest in entering into a genuine dialogue. He has no intention of revising his own position. So the charismatic Dodd easily comes across as the man with greater integrity. As such he remains incredibly sympathetic (both to his audience and the audience in the theater) until one last minute slip-up that comes with a shocking flare of temper. It’s a brilliant glimpse into the character and is expertly performed by Hoffman.
The scene where he sings “Slow Boat to China” is awfully strong, too. He has a lovely voice. (And the placement of his head in relation to the architecture behind him is almost distracting.)
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Joaquin Phoenix):
I must admit that initially I least liked Phoenix’s character, damaged Navy Veteran Freddie Quell. Often characters in P.T. Anderson films seem a little too cartoony and over-the-top to me, and at first Quell seemed to fall into this category. In early scenes, he seemed more like a walking caricature, a character that would turn up in one of those short stories I mentioned earlier than an actual, flesh-and-blood man.
But as the movie went on, and we saw more of Quell, Phoenix managed to change my mind. I first began to change my mind when I saw him in the second of his back-to-back processing attempts. In that scene, Phoenix makes Quell seem as full human as anyone can. Here he’s at his best. Suddenly Quell seems like a different man, and after watching his changing state throughout the rest of the film, I came away quite impressed with Phoenix’s performance.
Best Scene:
The processing scene I just mentioned is probably my favorite in the film. For one thing, it’s the core of both the film’s narrative journey and its philosophical musings. Phoenix and Hoffman sit facing one another across a small table and without blinking say and respond to things so raw as to be psychologically binding.
I also love the very last scene of the movie, the very last instant, an example of brilliant visuals and perfect music coming together to punctuate a possible thematic implication of the entire film. It’s the most striking and effective final scene I’ve seen since The Descendants. (I know last year wasn’t that long ago, but I do see a lot of movies.)
Strangest Scene:
Without a doubt, Hoffman’s rollicking rendition of “I’ll Go No More A-Roving” is a scene that makes an impression, and a strange one. For one thing, the scene conspicuously requires the audience to form its own interpretation of what is happening. (Arguably it’s not the only scene that does, but the others are less obvious.) Its juxtaposition with the even stranger scene immediately following it is what really gets me.
Without spoilers, I don’t think I can say much about what’s going on here, but it’s definitely something. These scenes seem particularly crucial to solving some of the central riddles surrounding the characters simply because they seem to demand more careful interpretation than the more transparent scenes surrounding them.
With characters as suspicious as these, scenes that seem laden with clues do make an impression. I’m not suggesting that these scenes are key to understanding the overall thrust of the film, but they may be helpful in understanding Dodd.
Best Scene Visually:
How can you not be captivated by the stark contrast in the jail scene between the practiced stoicism of Lancaster Dodd and the animalistic rage of Freddie Quell in the adjoining cell? Both actors are marvelous, and I think one reason I understand what Anderson is saying with this movie is that he frequently gives us visual clues like this. As in the processing scene, the set-up in the jail cell once again draws our attention to Dodd and Quell side by side, both separated and joined by so little and yet so much.
The Negatives:
A now deceased college professor once told me, “If you’re interested in verbs, then you have no business reading Henry James.” (Try skimming the opening chapters of The Ambassadors some time. Just try it.)
A similar sentiment applies here. This movie is about the nature of faith, the proper state of the soul, the meaning of life, and other such lofty things. It appeals to passion and reason and asks complex questions of the intellect and the soul.
In narrative terms, it’s a nearly two-and-a-half-hour character study, focused on the relationship between two men. Of course the film is about something more, something bigger than just the simple interactions of Dodd and Quell. But the story isn’t. If you’re looking for plot-driven, action packed stuff, then boy are you going to hate The Master.
I found the whole thing completely enthralling, but those who prefer more action and a more traditional narrative structure with a formulaic (and I don’t mean that in a bad way), traditionally paced plot will probably scream, “This is boring!” And you can’t exactly say that they’re wrong. I know several cherished friends and family members who would probably drop dead from sheer boredom before the end credits rolled.
So I do think it’s a masterpiece of sorts, but I’ll readily concede that it is really not for everyone.
Overall:
Given my less than enthusiastic reaction to P.T. Anderson’s past films, I was quite surprised to love The Master. It’s a well-acted character drama that asks important questions and deserves a number of Oscar nominations for acting, directing, picture, and, most definitely, Original Score. I highly recommend it but not without reservations. Some of you out there are most definitely going to hate it. But you just might love it as much as I did. And love it or hate it, it’s hard to deny the strength of the performances from Adams, Hoffman, and Phoenix, not to mention the power of Greenwood’s outstanding score.