a review by Jeffrey Overstreet
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UPDATE 12/21/09: Looking back at my original review of Magnolia, I’m surprised. Normally, the more time I spend with a movie the more the cracks and flaws begin to show. Paul Thomas Anderson’s films, on the other hand, have impressed me more and more every time I revisit them. Magnolia is not my favorite Anderson film, but it is one of three that I cherish and will gladly watch again and again, coming away with new realizations and a sense of gratitude and amazement every time. So yeah, I admire it even more now than I did when I wrote this during its initial theatrical run…
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Is it true that Paul Thomas Anderson’s new film Magnolia is too ambitious? Perhaps. There are more plots woven through this tapestry than most viewers can comfortably track.
Is it true that it’s a very, very long movie? Oh, yes.
And are the critics right who said the cast over-acts and seem to compete with each other for Oscar attention? Definitely.
But is it worth seeing? Absolutely. In fact, in spite of its artistic flaws, Magnolia stands a good chance of being 1999′s most memorable film. (And that’s saying something. I can’t think of a year that’s offered more original or memorable films.)
Anderson (who has started using the name “P.T. Anderson”) is a very young director – 29 years old – but his instincts make his work comparable to the most ambitious films of Martin Scorsese and Robert Altman… even Orson Welles. After his first feature Hard Eight went by with little fanfare, his second film won him the attention of filmmakers and audiences worldwide. Boogie Nights was a brutally explicit exploration of the world of pornography, and the lonely, broken people in the center of its decadence. While its story lacked the resonance of Magnolia, Anderson found among the debauchery a compassionate tale about people trying to meet their needs of family and love in the middle of a dehumanizing industry. Anderson deserved the kudos for the accomplished styling of the picture. It was clear he was bound for great things.
Magnolia is definitely another step upward. It tells the stories of many many characters struggling to cope with their variously fractured families. A TV producer (Jason Robards) lies dying, his memory beginning to fail, crying out to see his lost son. A cable-TV celebrity (Tom Cruise) who gives seminars on seducing women is challenged by an insightful television journalist, and the ghosts of his past grow restless under his carefully built facade. A former quiz-kid champion (William H. Macy) struggles with the uselessness of his knowledge, and the emptiness of his lonely life. And an up-and-coming quiz kid champion wrestles with fame in a different way, trying to break free of his controlling father. To mention all of the stories here would take up far too much time. (Viewers should be cautioned: Some of these characters have become monstrous, and Anderson portrays them unflinchingly in all of their foul-mouthed, violent, and abusive behaviors. This film is not for children.)
Suffice to say that these characters will stick in your mind. And the truths that bring them from action to consequences are as basic and relevant as the principles at work in Jesus’ storytelling. Call this movie P. T. Anderson’s Book of Parables. The Parable of the Lonely Policeman Who Tries to Make the World a Better Place… of the Woman Who Married For Money… of the Drug Addict Given a Chance at True Love… of the Thief Who Thought He Could Get Away. Now, throw in a dash of the Old Testament (namely, the book of Exodus.)
While this is a big fat knot of stories, its themes are quite clear. Magnolia is about how our choices, good or bad, stay with us our entire lives, and we can’t escape them. We are all incurably diseased by our mistakes.
Fortunately, whether the director intended this or not, Magnolia also directs our attention to the existence of God; His justice in all of its frightening fairness; the warnings He graciously sends our way when we’re headed for self-destruction; and His ability to give grace and forgive in spite of what we deserve. These characters’ experiences echo each other, which some critics considered annoyingly redundant. I found the “redundancy” to be an effective way of emphasizing how all human beings face similar tests, struggle with similar questions, face the consequences of similar mistakes, and receive similar opportunities to accept God’s gifts.
In dealing with these themes, Anderson follows in the footsteps of master filmmaker (and my favorite director) Krzysztof Kieslowski, whose work is constantly preoccupied with the interconnectedness of our lives. As Kieslowski did in Red, Anderson shows the consequences of sin visited upon people late in their lives even as much younger people are beginning to make the same (and sometimes exactly the same) mistakes.
Yes, critical complaints against the film are justified. Magnolia suffers from bland dialogue and sketchily-drawn characters. Anderson’s script sets up characters in Big Crises for Big Speeches about morality and guilt. There are definitely moments when the film stops to preach to the audience. But I think Flannery O’Connor’s philosophy – that a desensitized culture sometimes need exaggerated, loud storytelling to reawaken it – is the operating principle here. At times it’s as though he knows the primarily storyteller’s rule “Show, Don’t Tell,” but his youthful enthusiasm has him dancing up and down to tell you what it all means. It’s not the finest art, but it does pack a punch, especially in its consideration of the universality of suffering and need. Anderson isn’t the first preacher to speak to the masses in starkly drawn parables, hoping that those with eyes to see will see.
The film has a beautiful, fluid, Scorsese-like style, and its far-reaching ambition reminds me of Robert Altman’s Short Cuts. The performances are engaging, although sometimes exaggerated. (While this is Tom Cruise’s most wretched and evil character, it’s certainly his bravest performance. His work this year has almost cured me of my Cruise-phobia.) Also worthy of special mention are Julianne Moore, Jason Robards, John C. Reilly, and the consistently surprising Philip Seymour Hoffman.
I’d even go so far as to call God an “active character” in the film. He is portrayed beautifully in the ways he lures people into dealing with the crimes of their past, the way he intervenes, sometimes with his unmistakable signature… miracles. (If you pursue some of the film’s riddles, you just might spot an angel or a prophet existing right alongside the main characters.) There’s even a scripture reference that pops up, like the guy at the baseball games with the John 3:16 poster. Not a bad idea. Isn’t it better if audience members (or congregations) go to the Bible out of curiosity than because they’ve been pressured to do so?
Stylistically, Anderson makes bold choices, including some experimental uses of the soundtrack by the long-overlooked songwriter Aimee Mann. In one scene, a song plays on as we revisit each character at their state of crisis. Each character sings along with the song. It’s almost comical and risks being ludicrous. But it’s brave, and I think it was somewhat effective. It may be another admission by the director that, yeah, this isn’t realism… it’s just a play. It’s supposed to make you think. And that’s not the film’s boldest move. The last half-hour of the film comprises the single biggest risk taken by any director this year, and whether or not you think it works, you won’t soon forget it.
If given a choice between a film by a passionate amateur and a film by a renowned professional, I’ll take the passionate one. Anderson’s whole heart is in this picture, and that’s a lot more than can be said of Scorsese’s ’99 release, which had all the ingredients for a great work but left me feeling strangely empty and asking “So what?” There are other promising new directors who seem bound for greatness – Neil LaBute, David O. Russell, Todd Solondz, and Spike Jonze, to name a few. Like Anderson, they unapologetically portray the beauty AND the ugliness in the world. But Anderson shows us more hope than the rest of them, so far. His concern is the possibility of healing.
Even if Anderson never improves his writing or his characterizations, he sees the brokenness and depravity of the human condition clearly, his stories are parables that incline our hearts toward repentance and reconciliation, and he leaves us with urgent and humbling questions. That’s the kind of art we need. His career will be exciting to watch.
December 21st, 2009 at 1:07 pm
While the exodus 8:2 references are obvious, to claim this film has anything to do with any cult is ridiculous. PT Anderson introduced the references to christian myth after writing the script.