| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 11/17/2012 : 17:49:37
Let me say at the outset that I hold Roger Ebert in very high regard. Both through his written reviews and the Siskel & Ebert television series, he has had a profound effect on the way I look at and react to movies. He knows something which other critics often forget: when we write about movies, we are really writing about life.
That said, I was disappointed and confounded by his review of The Master. Not that I expected him to love it, mind you. I'm not even sure that I "loved" it. But it's clearly one of the significant films of 2012, and I was expecting more from Ebert than this befuddled shrug of a review. If you'll indulge me, I'd like to take it apart and examine it.
First, there is the star rating. Ebert awards the film 2.5 out of a possible 4 stars. Now, the critic has said on multiple occasions that the star ratings really mean nothing and that readers should concentrate on the words of the review instead, but I think the star rating here deserves mention. The chasm between 2.5 and 3 stars is vast because it is the exact point which separates the recommended films from the non-recommended. In his TV days, Ebert would give a "thumbs up" to any movie he had awarded three stars or more and a "thumbs down" to everything else. A quick perusal of rogerebert.com reveals that the majority of films Ebert reviews these days pass the "three star" test, even those he only found mildly enjoyable. If Ebert is the doorman at a desirable nightspot, it seems especially cruel to wave almost everyone else in but leave The Master stranded on the sidewalk, so to speak.
But let's get into the body of the review. Here is Ebert's opening statement:
Paul Thomas Anderson's "The Master" is fabulously well-acted and crafted, but when I reach for it, my hand closes on air.
Eloquent, no? But here's the problem. Ebert has already used this turn of phrase in his 1998 review of Henry Fool, which also received the dreaded 2.5 stars. Check it out. He hasn't gotten past the first sentence, and he's already recycling old ideas. I think that sets a bad tone for the rest of the review.
He continues:
It has rich material and isn't clear what it thinks about it. It has two performances of Oscar caliber, but do they connect? Its title character is transparently inspired by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology, but it sidesteps any firm vision of the cult religion itself � or what it grew into.
I'm not sure what Ebert means by "connect." Connect with whom or to what? I'm going to call this another critical cliche. As for offering a viewpoint on Scientology, I am puzzled as to why Ebert would want the film to make an overt judgment on the religion so obvious that no ambiguity would linger in the viewer's mind. I think it's much more satisfying to simply observe these characters and situations and draw our own conclusions rather than have the director tell us what to think. Apparently, Ebert disagrees. The religion in the film, the Cause, is not Scientology exactly, but I did see enough to draw a conclusion about what I'd seen of it. I'd say that the movie presents the religion in a largely negative light, as it seems to offer its followers no real solutions to their problems and is led by a very flawed man whose motives and methods are questionable at best. Was any viewer expecting The Master to confirm or dispute his or her own ideas on Scientology? That's not what I wanted from it.
Let's move on:
The Hubbard character, named Lancaster Dodd and played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, is indeed not even the film's most important. Top billing goes to an alcoholic adherent of The Master named Freddie Quell � played by Joaquin Phoenix, who in some ways seems to flow out of the bizarre persona he created during his meltdown, or whatever it was, two years ago.
This is basically accurate, I suppose, but none of this is relevant to the film's quality. At the heart of The Master is the relationship between the Phoenix and Hoffman characters. Without either of these characters, there is no film. I didn't see either character as being more "important" than the other, and I didn't care about which actor got top billing. As for Phoenix's public meltdown of a few years ago, I didn't once think of it while watching The Master. I personally don't see much of a resemblance between the film and the actor's life. Ebert has yet to say anything of value about this film.
The next paragraph is devoted to a perfunctory plot summary:
This Freddie Quell has an unnatural and dangerous taste for booze in all forms. The film opens with him on board a U.S. Navy vessel in the Pacific just as World War II ends. As news of peace comes over the radio, he already has his plans made. He goes directly below deck and begins draining fuel from a torpedo. During the film, he will also create concoctions from paint thinner, coconut water, and something from a medicine cabinet � Lysol, perhaps. After he serves a potentially fatal cocktail to a migrant worker in a California cabbage field, he hastens to San Francisco and stows away on board a seafaring yacht.
Ebert delivers a broad overview of the film's story here, but a reader could have gleaned the same basic information from any number of reviews or online sources. We're three paragraphs in, and Ebert has given us nothing.
From here on, let's examine the review paragraph by paragraph.
The qualifications or cost for joining the Cause are never made clear, but some kind of fearful discipline seems to be in use, and Freddie Quell is quick to pick fights with those who oppose the man who has given him affection and guidance (and likes the taste of his hooch). Quell drifts in and out of reality, imagining rooms where the women have suddenly become unclothed. When it comes to sex, he has a powerful imagination, which we observe in an early scene where shipmates make a sand sculpture of a naked woman, and he uses it like a love doll to masturbate. (Not recommended.)
This is more boilerplate plot description, more functional than insightful. Ebert is giving us plenty of "what" but very little "how" and "why." But notice the statement about "qualifications and cost" as it relates to the religion. I believe that Anderson establishes again and again what the Cause's qualifications are. The adherents are overwhelmingly the idle rich, people with time and money to waste on it. The film's locales include a yacht, a high society party, and the large, tasteful home of a Cause acolyte. Qualifications: being rich and gullible. Cost: whatever you're willing to sink in. Hoffman's character sells books and starts a "school" during the course of the film, and it's implied that his followers are footing the bill for what seems to be a fairly lavish lifestyle. Hoffman's natty wardrobe and careful grooming speak volumes about the man and his work.
Ebert goes on:
All around the film's edges are possibilities that Anderson doesn't explore. What, exactly, does the Cause believe, with its talk of past lives and ingrained prenatal injuries? "He's making it all up as he goes along," says son Val (Jesse Plemons). But "The Master" is not an expose, not a historical record of the Cause, Scientology or any other group and not really the story of its characters, who remain enigmatic to the end.
Here, I feel Ebert is blatantly missing the point. Phoenix is our viewpoint character. What he learns of the Cause is what we learn of it, and he is drunk much of the time, so the information is going to be scrambled and disoriented. What we "explore" of the "film's edges" is largely what Phoenix would be able to experience. Again, I am baffled by Ebert's desire for certainty and answers. Does he really want a clear, unambiguous explanation of the Cause? Is such a thing even possible? I've had Scientology "explained" to me several times, and it's never made much sense to me. Most major religions are like that, though. Either you internalize them and they mean something to you or you don't and they remain enigmatic. In that way, religions are a lot like baseball. If you grow up with baseball, you can easily follow a game as it's being played on TV. If you didn't, then no amount of explanation will make the game into a satisfying narrative for you.
Ebert goes on (as do I):
Enigmatic, but far from boring. Phoenix projects a fearsome anxiety as his eyes scan a room; there are flashbacks/fantasies involving a pre-war girlfriend who continued to occupy space in his mind years after she married and had children. There's no sense drinking gives him any pleasure; it medicates something we can only imagine. Hoffman, as Lancaster Dodd, suggests the charisma that a character like Hubbard must have had, and although Scientology has reportedly staged a campaign against "The Master," the film is vague about the Cause.
Here, finally, Ebert makes some astute observations which prove that he was paying attention during at least part of The Master. The comment about Phoenix's eyes is a sharp one in particular. Because of his own personal history, furthermore, Ebert can and does write with intelligence and perception on the topic of alcoholism. This has been a hallmark of his writing career. To me, The Master is about alcoholism at least much as it is about Scientology, just as Hoffman and Phoenix play characters of equal importance. I think the two topics should have shared roughly equal space in the review. But, no, Ebert goes back to the complaint that the film is too vague about the religion at its center. I maintain that the film is as clear as it needs to be or can be about something which is, at heart, film flam.
We go on:
Why are these two opposites so strongly attracted? You could guess homoeroticism, but there too the movie is vague. Is it that each senses an intriguing challenge to his idea of himself? Always somewhere in the frame is Dodd's wife, Peggy, sweet-faced, calm, never missing a thing, always calmly there when she's needed.
Alas, Ebert's powers of perception fail him here. On the topic of homoeroticism, there is a scene late in the film which brings the issue into sharp focus. It is unmistakable and unmissable. There is nothing "vague" about it. Elsewhere, however, the film simply observes the two men and allows viewers to draw their own conclusions. I feel that is the more interesting and responsible choice. In my estimation, with all due respect, Ebert's description of Peggy is just flat-out wrong. Like "2 + 2 = 5" wrong. Peggy may be "sweet-faced," but there is a steely determination in her eyes. She is ambitious, judgmental, defensive, slightly paranoid, and highly skeptical of Phoenix. My impression of her is that she felt the Cause had a big future and she didn't want Phoenix messing it up. I think a re-watching of the film will support this opinion. What could Ebert have been thinking when he wrote this?
We are nearing the end, I promise you. Ebert:
This is the first movie filmed in 65mm (and projected in 70mm, in select markets) since Kenneth Branagh's "Hamlet" (1996). It's a spectacular visual experience.
Here, Ebert is again on track, but now it is he who is being too vague. The 65mm filming is a neat bit of trivia, but it doesn't say much about the experience of actually watching the movie. Perhaps here would have been a good place to talk about the film's handsome color palate or the way the quality of the cinematography affects our feelings about the characters and the story. This is a missed opportunity, Mr. Ebert.
You notice that in particular when Dodd mounts a motorcycle on a huge flat plain and roars into the distance. Then he returns, just as Vincent Gallo did in "The Brown Bunny," although I doubt this is intended as a homage. "Now you do it," Dodd tells Quell. Quell roars off. Eventually Dodd and companions trudge off under the desert sun in search of him. Whether they find him, I won't say. What the motorcycle demonstrates, I can't say.
Ebert is at sea here. The Brown Bunny is utterly irrelevant to this film, other than the similarity between these two shots. Even Ebert admits the resemblance is coincidental, so why bother including such an observation in the review? As for the motorcycle, I feel Ebert is desperately overreading. The motorcycle in the film is just a motorcycle. It is used very prominently in one sequence as a mode of transportation in the desert. What's really notable here is not the motorcycle, but how the people in the sequence behave.
Ebert concludes with a somewhat conciliatory closing statement:
Paul Thomas Anderson is one of our great directors. "The Master" shows invention and curiosity. It is often spellbinding. But what does it intend to communicate?
The review ends with a question mark. I think Ebert really wanted to be able to end it with a period instead. That's the central issue here. Ebert wanted clear answers and tidy morals from this film. The Master (largely) refuses to provide them, which I think is its greatest asset.
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| 2 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| BaftaBaby |
Posted - 12/18/2012 : 18:06:19
First, I want to thank Joe Blevins for this detailed and insightful deconstruction.
Because, unlike Ebert, I wanted to write about the film - it seemed a bit perverse of me to start a new thread.
IMHO Anderson - a director who cannot be ignored - has not made a film about Scientology or other such cults. I'd probably include religion in that regard.
Like all his films in one way or another, The Master is about unexpected relationships and how they enlighten the people we have all become. How the hell did we get here and what do we do to help each other. If anything.
Sure, there's alcoholism - and yes, it almost exists as a character itself. Equally, there are deep questions about leadership, and even deeper ones about the nature of followers.
The real message of the film is that there are no "masters." Only those we choose to believe - who knows why, but surely more to do with us than them.
As The Master Philip Seymour Hoffman shares much of the insecurities and inadequacies of his fucked-up acolyte Freddie Quell. He just hides them more convincingly under a blanket of charming arrogance, rage/booze-fuelled authority, verbal facility and a good memory.
People like a good memory. They think it equates with intellect.
The Master's a goldmine of quotes which appear to apply both to individual and more general problems. Of course, he'd never allow himself to quote from William Ernest Henley's Invictus - you know, that's the one the concludes: I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul. A concept like that would undermine his authority. Which is how he makes his living.
At first entirely skeptical if not completely indifferent to the pull of The Master, and staggering under the weight of alcoholic decades, Quell accepts what he's got to offer - rather, what he appears to offer. Not any kind of cure, and certainly not salvation. But the salve of forgiving camaraderie, the ghost of a family.
As Quell Joaquin Phoenix easily matches the power of Hoffman's performance. These two sizzle from the screen, and light Anderson's film like fireworks that bloom just that bit too close.
Joe's quite right - the film [like all good art] ask questions. It's you who have to master your own answers.
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| randall |
Posted - 11/18/2012 : 19:51:04
Nice. And a first for fwfr! |
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