I Beat Up The Bathroom, I'm Sorry: Punch-Drunk Love (2002)

I must admit, my first experience with what has proven to be Paul Thomas Anderson's most overlooked work was far less than receptive.  To be fair it was when I had first found myself getting into film and preferred the super obvious "cool" films like Pulp Fiction and V for Vendetta, at that time in my viewing history, my palette had yet to be introduced to even Boogie Nights, and certainly not There Will Be Blood, as such I was by no means prepared for the incredibly introspective nature of this film and was certainly not mature enough to detach Adam Sandler from his previous persona.  Fortunately, I brought it upon myself to revisit this film, after falling in love with The Master, which still holds steadily in first place as my favorite film from last year.  Punch-Drunk Love falls into the similar vein of Anderson's most recent work, although this fare is decidedly more comedic and certainly not as existential, in fact, the only point of connection one could initially make stylistically between the two films and their director is the use of Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  While Magnolia certainly proves to be Anderson's most deconstructionist film to date, Punch-Drunk Love certainly holds its own, often completely detaching itself from any sort of identifiable image and favoring abstraction, even going so far as to display images of stars as if to suggest that the struggles of the characters, the absurdities of life and the artifice of order are, ultimately, subjected to the higher importance of some transcendent entity or state of mind.  Although, knowing the complexities of Anderson's films, there is certainly an equal possibility that it is truly intended to capture the very real and human woes of an individual dealing with his own bouts of insanity.  Regardless of its, ultimate meaning, a couple of things are rather certain when considering Punch-Drunk Love, it is a profusely cinematic film, beautifully shot and expertly acted and certainly far more respectable than some of the more theatrically and critically well-receive films of the year, in fact, as I reflect on other films from 2002, it seems as though it was the year of the over looked film, if ever one exists.

Punch-Drunk Love focuses on the rather unusual life of Barry (Adam Sandler) a clearly unstable novelties salesman, who has taken up wearing a blue suit as a means to change his life in a minor way, although when he steps outside to look down the street he watches an intense accident occur, which is followed by a harmonium being dropped off from out of a passing van for no clear reason.  The somewhat detached Barry flees initially, only to be approached by a woman asking to leave her car there momentarily.  Eventually, Barry retrieves the harmonium which becomes a point of obsession throughout the remainder of the film, as the trouble man deals with the constant nagging of his seven sisters, as well as obtaining the perfect amount of pudding cups to get the best deal relating to a free air miles giveaway.  During a party, at which Barry snaps and breaks some glass, he is made aware of a friend of one of his sister's who has taken an interest in him and would really like to meet with him, unfortunately, she fails to make it to the party.  In loneliness, Barry finds the number for a phone sex line, which invariably turns out to be a fraud that engages in small time identity theft.  This organization begins to hound Barry, but assuming that it will eventually go away he meets with his sister's friend Lena (Emily Watson) who is incidentally the same girl who asked to park her car outside his job days earlier, in fact, it is revealed that she had seen a picture of Barry much earlier and had taken a liking to her.  The two have an instant chemistry and Barry even flies to Hawaii to spend time with her, despite still dealing with the aggression of those involved in stealing his identity, going so far as to side swipe Barry and Lena when the two return from Hawaii.  Barry in an adrenaline rush attacks the group in their truck, then hunts down the person responsible for his harassment, a Utah based matress salesman named Dean Trumbell (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) whose foul mouth and anger tremble in the face of Barry who claims that he has found a love so great that it makes him unstoppable.  The film then closes with Barry and Lena embracing the uncertainty of their now shared future.

There is a large proponent of this film that deals with the problems of individualized suffering, it is impossible not to feel some degree of sympathy, or even pity for Barry who just seems to have terrible people skills and a lack of assertion as it relates to the world around him.  His coworkers seem only to exist as free floating figures in his life, so much so that the only one who communicates with him, Lance (Luis Guzman) does so with a noticeable degree of disconnect.  Even Barry's sisters and their husbands seem to have a degree of judgement and misunderstanding Barry's suffering criticizing him and calling him and idiot, even going so far as to betray his trust when he breaks down in front of them in momentary defeat.  Barry cannot even buy companionship, as his attempt to find somebody to simply talk to ends up in his drawn out financial exploitation, although he undoubtedly corrects that situation.  Although a few moments of research relating to this film helped me reaffirm my own considerations of the film suggesting that it is about two people connecting on a cosmic trajectory.  Lena and Barry are veritable soul mates in that a set of seemingly bizarre and inexplicable events lead to their unification, even if it also required some direct will on their own part, particularly Lena who initially stalks Barry, but that is not to say that Barry does not return the favor later on within the narrative.  Almost as though the two share a similar orbit, the narrative suggests that it is only a matter of time before the two coalesce, making for the ultimately moment of happiness for each character, something that is reaffirmed by the visual art pieces installed throughout created by the late Jeremy Blake, which come together to reveal the couple at the end of the film.  It is perhaps this that explains the specific absurdity of everything else that occurs within the filmic space, precisely because it is completely irrelevant to everything else except the unison of two destined souls.  Of course, I could be reading into this way too much and missing the point, but it is all to direct on the part of Anderson to ignore.

Key Scene:  The supermarket scene will blow your mind on a surface visual level, but as I discovered after reading the film, there are some layers to the scene that will not be picked up on the first viewing and each moment within the supermarket foreshadows something larger within the narrative.

Buy this film, although it appears not to have a bluray which is a god damn shame, who knows perhaps with enough sales that will change.  Either way the DVD is so cheap it is almost free, and thus an easy purchase.

Above All, I Am A Man: The Master (2012)

I am sure at some point on this blog I have confessed my love for Paul Thomas Anderson as a director, citing his work There Will Be Blood, as one of my all time favorite films, number 25 to be exact (As my top 100 stands).  I went into The Master knowing that I would in all likelihood enjoy the film.  I did not expect to be enamored with the film though, I am not entirely ready to place it above There Will Be Blood, but I am quite sure it will be one of my favorite films of this year and perhaps of the decade...it is still too early to tell of course.  The Master, like most of Anderson's work, benefits from being projected over the big screen, considering the inherent cinematic nature of his works.  The Master is by no means his most straightforward film and certainly manages to be non-linear in ways similar to Magnolia.  The acting is, as always on point, with brilliant performances by both Joaquin Phoenix and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, as well as a surprisingly well-executed performance by Amy Adams.  A thematic films of sorts, The Master is inundated with psychoanalysis, theological and existential commentaries that jam together into a film that builds its intensity ever so slowly and gracefully, and while many of the conversations post-film complained about it being to long, I would say that The Master is the perfect length and subsequently is a rare thing in being a perfect film.

The Master, while non-traditional in its narrative leanings, certainly has a main character in Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) a down and out veteran who drunkenly moves between jobs ranging from a department store photographer to a migrant farmer, always leaving jobs as a result of his alcohol induced spurts of rage or severe issues of miscommunication between himself and whoever he is with at the moment.  It is clear that Freddie desires very specific things, an explanation to why exactly he is on Earth and to get laid, two things that are constantly in battle with one another.  During one particular night of drunken meandering, Freddie finds his way onto a ship only to awake to an inquisitive crew, captained by one Lancaster Dodd (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) a regal man, who is an intellectual well-knwon for his philosophically inclined self-help books.  Taking an unusual liking to Freddie, partially out of curiosity, as well as his skill at making strong libations, Lancaster welcomes Freddie into his life, much to the concern of Lancaster's wife Peggy (Amy Adams) and other members of his extended family.  As Lancaster invests in Freddie it becomes clear that the young veteran's anger is a point of contention, particularly when Freddie attacks people who question Lancaster directly.  Throughout the remainder of the film Freddie and Lancaster are at odds, as Freddie seeks meaning to his life, while Lancaster constantly makes the wide-eyed alcoholic a guinea pig to absurd experiments.  Ultimately, the two severe ties and Freddie heads away to travel about England, eventually meeting a girl at a bar.  The film closes with him engaging in intercourse, before returning to a vision of him laying next to a nude woman made of sand, suggesting the fulfillment of at least one of his desires in life.

While I am not theoretically inclined enough to really dig into the various criticism possible with such a complex film as The Master, I was quite drawn to Freddie as a character with severe maternal issues.  A few passing references are made to Freddie having a problematic family relationship, perhaps one void of a paternal figure and it is further suggested that his mental state is severely affected by this problem.  As such, Freddie displaces his longing by a constant quest to bed women, ranging from a model at a department store to Lancaster's wife, often having disturbing day dream of every woman in a room being nude, regardless of age or attractiveness.  Freddie also seems to have a strong attachment to Lancaster because of his nurturing nature, while it would be appropriate to analyze Lancaster as a father figure his sweet actions towards Freddie suggest otherwise, especially in the two's closing scene involving a singing scene, very reminiscent of a maternal lullaby to a young child, although this one is far more tragic and certainly more dark.  In the end, one could say that Freddie fulfills his maternal quest with his moment of intercourse, which is not accidentally with a larger woman with clearly motherly features.  Yet the film closes with Freddie laying next to an over-sexualized woman, a possible claim that Freddie has not grown in the slightest and may, in fact, have regressed considerably.

Key Scene:  It involves Amy Adams and Phillip Seymour Hoffman in front of a mirror, trust me it is intense.

This is just now making its theatrical run and is certainly to be seen in a big screen setting, but I will warn you, ignore the stupid people and their ungrounded comments about the films complexity.  They are the same idiots who did not like Tree of Life, simply because it did not have a linear narrative.