The Master - review

Paul Thomas Anderson is, in my humble opinion, without doubt the most talented and distinguished film-maker of his generation. I'm certainly not, however, alone in this thought.

The New York Times described him as "one of the most exciting talents to come along in years" while Sight & Sound magazine wrote that he is "among the supreme talents of today". The American Film Institute lists Anderson as "one of American film's modern masters", and the Guardian ranked him first in their list of the greatest directors, saying: "His dedication to his craft has intensified, with his disdain for PR and celebrity marking him out as the most devout film-maker of his generation."

I adore Anderson's films, and above all There Will Be Blood (2007). It's my belief that There Will Be Blood is, in all seriousness, perhaps the first masterpiece of 21st century American film, and one of the finest works of American cinema of any era. 

It's successor, The Master, explores a disturbed World War II veteran enticed into joining an alluring and mysterious cult known as "The Cause" during the late 1940s and early '50s.

Freddie Quell (played superbly by Joaquin Phoenix) suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, unable to readjust to peacetime society after his experiences in the Pacific. His symptoms manifest themselves in his alcoholism, sex-obsession, and proneness to unpredictable outbursts of violence and aggression. 

One night, drunker than usual, he stows away on a large and opulent yacht. When discovered, he is taken to Lancaster Dodd (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) - the owner and captain of the ship. In his own words, the charismatic and cryptic Dodd is "a writer; a doctor; a nuclear physicist; a theoretical philosopher."
In less effusive and verbose terms, Dodd and his clandestine philosophical movement evokes direct and not particularly complimentary comparison to L. Ron Hubbard and the founding of Scientology. (Amusingly, the Church of Scientology predictably expressed their horror at the production of this film, particularly at the suggestion that the doctrine is a product of the leader's imagination. It's understood that some members of the Church even attempted to disrupt or censor the film entirely).

Quell is inducted into "The Cause", intrigued by Dodd's promises of psychosomatic harmoniousness, and begins exercises known as "Processing"- disturbing psychological questioning exploring past traumas, and soon their convoluted relationship quickly begins to spiral dangerously beyond either man's control.

Quell (Phoenix) & Dodd (Hoffman)

 Events turn increasingly sinister as emotions are strained and Dodd's legitimacy is challenged, culminating in scenes of the most genuine tension and cinematic brilliance in recent years. 

Phoenix's performance as the deranged and unhinged Quell is phenomenal, and in my opinion a close rival to Daniel Day Lewis's towering and unforgettable turn in There Will Be Blood - both actors inhabit their roles with feverish, maddened, and disconcerting intensity. Hoffman, dependably brilliant, doesn't disappoint in any way whatsoever, in a performance many are hailing as among the best of his considerable career. 

The Master is expertly directed, exquisitely beautiful, perfectly acted, and wonderfully written - although it's not quite Anderson's successive masterpiece that many (myself included) so wanted it to be. 

It is a supremely competent and engrossing work of cinema, and immediately ranks as one of my favourite films. However, it is not Anderson's magnum opus, despite how enamoured I am with it.
I'm equally disappointed to write of the cause of this criticism (near enough my sole critique of the entire film) - particularly due to the tragically simple and avoidable nature of this imperfection.

To be blunt, it's too long. Or rather, not so much that it's too long, but more so that (especially in the last half-hour) the film loses momentum and sags, however slightly. The energy throughout the majority of the film was palpable, and brilliantly visceral and raw - however, if it was unsustainable, it simply should have been more concisely edited. Any failure to do so by a film-maker of Anderson's calibre can perhaps (admittedly harshly) be regarded as self-indulgent.

The film is two hours and twenty-three minutes long - and while that length is not unusual by Anderson's standards, it certainly requires every single scene to be consistently engaging and compelling (The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, Lawrence of Arabia, etc) - if not, their purpose is wasted.

However, that said, the film is unquestionably superb: Mesmerising, uncompromisingly brilliant, exceptionally crafted  - while Anderson's continued unpredictability in his writing and film-making combined with his peerless talent will only result in the continuation of his possession of the very highest esteem from many, and I certainly count myself as one of those.