This weekend, Paul Thomas Anderson's (PTA, to the superfans) much hyped The Master arrived in theaters. No one was more excited than I. His previous films, Boogie Nights, Magnolia, and There Will Be Blood are probably all somewhere in my top ten of all time. All time! And then, I hear PTA is making about a movie about a cult! Starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman! It's like PTA made a movie specifically catered to me.
Now let me assure you of a few things before I present any criticism of the film. I don't need a movie to have a clear plotline or even have a definite resolution. In fact, I enjoy films that leave me wondering about the true meaning (I was only one who clapped, not groaned, at the last scene in Inception). I also appreciate films for being simply visual works of art. Heck, I often find myself in arguments defending Lars Von Trier movies. I like symbolism in movies, and am usually the first to appreciate something that has an interpretation of many levels.
So, no one was more surprised than I when I walked away from The Master thinking "what a hot mess." The first half of the film was incredibly engaging: we see Freddy Quell (a newly emaciated Joaquin Phoenix) released from active duty in the Navy, wandering into one menial job into the other, always having to leave because of his penchant for physical altercations. There are beautiful shots of an open field, the ocean, and a steady shot of a department store. He meets The Master, Lancaster Dodd, by chance and there is an incredible, Oscar-worthy scene of Dodd leading Freddy through an "initiation exercise" that has him reveal his true self. I had a cinema boner in that scene. I was sold. I was ready to throw an Oscar at the screen.
