"Once Upon a Time...Inherent Vice."

*As always, I write these articles under the assumption that you’ve seen the film, so...SPOILERS. (This also applies to Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood.)

I’m still sticking with my current monthly plan of Van Damme, Oedekerk, and western, but getting a chance to see Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood inspired me a bit. That’s why I went ahead and wrote a review of that, but it also made me want to revisit Inherent Vice. Basically, I wanted to rewatch Once Upon, but that wasn’t a possibility for me, so I went with the film it most reminded me of with Inherent Vice. 

Once Upon a Time...Inherent Vice

There are some obvious connections between these two films (the setting, the Manson references, the comedic tone, etc.), but the main connection I found was both films’ theme dealing with the end of an era. It’s as if Inherent Vice’s world is what Tarantino wanted to prevent by changing history at the end of his fairy tale. That’s probably why Once is a much lighter, funnier film than Inherent Vice. 

In Inherent Vice, the overall point (as far as I’m concerned, anyway) was the death of the carefree ‘60s and the birth of the paranoid ‘70s. This is evidenced by the general tone, especially the music, of the film, but it’s pretty obvious with the plot, when you can follow it, that is. You see the co-opting of the hippie movement (Bigfoot playing a hippie in a commercial, Owen Wilson being planted within the community by a government agency), and the general fear of hippies and drug users because of Charles Manson (when the cop pulls over Doc with Dr. Blatnoyd, Japonica, and Denis he lists all the things they’re on the lookout for and Denis even namedrops Manson). You get the sense that within Doc’s own life things were simpler when he was with Shasta, but now things have changed and it seems like everything is controlled by sinister forces. So even when they seem to end up together at the end, Doc is still looking in the mirror behind him, as if someone might be following him. Things will never be the same. 

This is what Tarantino laments in Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood. He’s more specifically concerned with Hollywood (hence, the title) than the general culture, but it’s still about how the Manson murders helped put an end to a carefree era. You get the sense of foreboding with Once Upon anytime you see the Manson women (hitchhiking, dumpster diving, etc.), and it comes to the forefront when Cliff ends up at the ranch, in an amazingly tense, creepy sequence. Overall, things are kept fairly light because Tarantino’s film is a fairy tale, not only for the main characters of Rick and Cliff, but for all of Hollywood, as well. Tarantino’s film posits that stopping Manson’s followers could let that world stay the same. You could argue that stopping Manson’s followers would not have stopped the change in our culture, but it is a fairy tale, so in that world maybe it could have. 

This is why I think Inherent Vice and Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood make a great double feature. And it doesn’t matter what order you watch them in. If you go with Vice first, you see a more historically accurate change in the culture, and if you follow that with Once Upon, you get to what things were like before and how it could have been avoided. I think it works better with Hollywood first, though. In that order, you get to see this world and its alternate history, and Inherent Vice becomes this darker sequel about what would have happened if things went differently at the end of Hollywood. Either way, both films create a world I wouldn’t mind spending an afternoon in.

It’s weird feeling nostalgic for an era I never experienced.

Feeling nostalgic for the world of either film is strange since I wasn’t alive during this time. It’s nothing new to want to live in a fictional world that I don’t personally identify with (like, say, wanting to live in the world of Star Wars even if I would have probably just been a moisture farmer or nerf herder…), but to feel a bit of nostalgia for a real time period I didn’t experience is a strange feeling because it’s a world I almost experienced. 

I was born in 1984, so most of my childhood memories are late ‘80s/early ‘90s. To me, those were carefree times, but I’m sure they weren’t to adults who had grown up in the ‘50s and 60’s. So I think this feeling that the world changed because of one or more events is something that happens to every generation. For me, it’s 9/11. But that also happened during my senior year of high school, a common time for people to start thinking more about the world instead of their own silly lives. 

My generation is unique, however, in that we will be the last people to remember a time of landline phones, no internet (at least no internet in its current ubiquitous form[fun fact: Pynchon included a subplot about the beginnings of the internet in the book, so even that was covered to a degree]), no DVR, etc. I still remember a time when driving around was a thing, and people had to track each other down to hang out and make plans. We had to look things up the hard way, and the world could be more interesting and mysterious due to our lack of information. Now, with information both real and fake being presented at a nonstop rate, it’s easy to look back to my childhood, or an era like the ‘60s, and think, “Man, I wish things were like that again.” This is all ignoring the common issues with nostalgia, by the way, like the fact that no time period is ever as great or simple as you remember it, and odds are it was a terrible time period for entire groups of people different than yourself. But at face value, that’s where my nostalgia for an era I never experienced comes from.

That written, it’s not so crazy to feel like there was a time in my life that was similar to Inherent Vice and Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood. With Vice, the main thing that comes across to me is the generally hanging out feeling I get as Doc seems to randomly wander through the story. I feel like high school was like that a bit: just living in the moment, not worrying too much about the future. As for Hollywood, I feel like the movies I grew up watching aren’t really made anymore, so Hollywood has changed for me. Once again, I think this happens to every generation, and it has a lot more to do with getting older than it does with cults and terrorists. But who wouldn’t want to live in a fairy tale where these terrible things never happened?

Why do I own this?

It’s a Paul Thomas Anderson movie.

Random Thoughts

“Someone might be watching.” The foreboding beginning is brought full circle in the final moments of the film as Doc keeps checking his mirror as if he’s checking for a tail. The era of paranoia had begun.

Brolin in that commercial at the beginning is the most subtly threatening hippie of all time.

“So while suspect, that’s you, was having alleged midday nap so necessary to the hippie lifestyle…”

Doc watching Bigfoot eat that chocolate-covered banana…

Now that I’ve seen Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood, I get the joke Doc makes to the FBI guys about “missing” an episode.

“What’s a Puck Beaverton?” Reminds me of one of my favorite lines from Game of Thrones: “What the fuck’s a Lommy?”

“[F]rom a bass player turned record company executive, which trend watchers took as further evidence of the end of Hollywood, if not the world as they know it.” I think of this and Once Upon as films very much about the end of Hollywood and the world as people knew it back then.

“‘Gee,’ he thought, ‘I don’t know.’”

I kind of disliked/didn’t pay much attention to Sortilege’s narration the first couple times I watched this. Watching it now, I feel like her narration, while nonsensical at times (the astrology stuff, but maybe that’s just me), actually sums up a lot of the film’s themes.

“Are you sayin’ that the U.S. is somebody’s mom?”

The Last Supper image with the pizza is one of my favorites. It beautifully visualizes Owen Wilson as Christ-like (mainly in that he has returned from the “dead”), and I remember reading about it in the book and PTA captured it perfectly.

I never give this film enough credit for being a love story. That scene with Doc and Shasta looking for dope after calling the number from the Ouija Board is a great moment that effectively captures what it’s like to be in a great relationship during a carefree time. It is the perfect subplot (in a film that seems to be nothing but subplots) for the theme of innocence lost as paranoia sets in. In the film, that theme applies to the changing culture in America at the time, but it can also apply to Doc and Shasta’s relationship in the end. They seem to be slightly back together, but the innocent, carefree love of before is gone. Doc is driving forward, as is their relationship, but who knows where it’s headed now? And when did he start worrying about where things were headed? Perhaps that’s the real loss of the hippie culture of the ‘60s. People stopped living in the moment are started living in fear of the future. But what do I know? I was born in 1984.

“You know it?”

“Shakes a tambourine.”

I have to remember to start using that instead of “rings a bell.”

This is the first time I noticed that Japonica’s dad was with the Voorhees-Krueger law office. Of all the unexpected elements of this film, a reference to Jason and Freddy is pretty high on the list.

“God help us all. Dentists on trampolines.”

“Did I hit you?”

I guess I just have a soft spot for movies that are about an end of an era without being too obvious about it.

“So you guys been working for the Golden Fang long?”

In the end, Shasta references it being like the Ouija day, and it being “Just us.” But Doc looks suspicious of this now. 

“Under the paving-stones, the beach!” I forgot this text was at the end of the credits. I think it fits in with my general thoughts about the theme of the film, in that the corruption, drugs, and paranoia in general became the paving stones while enjoying a simpler life was the beach.

Top Ten of 2014 (Even Though It's Already February of 2015)

This past year I kind of gave up on reviewing movies (took a bit of a hiatus from March to about August). This was partly due to being a bit bored with the process and because not many movies had been released that truly excited me. One movie really brought me out of that funk (Snowpiercer) and made me realize that 2014 was a pretty great year for movies. Here are my top ten picks and a few honorable mentions that, if I was in a different mood, might have been in my top ten.

One more thing, I know it’s kind of crazy to release a top ten of 2014 almost two months into 2015, but I figured if the Academy can wait that long, then so can I. Plus, I needed a bit of extra time to see everything.

1.    Snowpiercer

As I stated above, this movie brought me out of my movie funk. The world created for this film felt so lived-in, and that’s what makes me want to keep watching it. I love the performances and the weird elements of the film, but it’s the feeling of the film in general that sticks with me. When “Snowpiercer” starts, you believe that these people have lived most of their lives on a train, no matter how stupid that sounds. This is the film from 2014 I will return to most in the future.

2.       Birdman

Definitely my favorite Oscar-nominated film of the year. The cinematography gets most of the attention, but the acting is the best aspect of this surprisingly funny film. This movie is the total package for me: great performances, impressive visuals, interesting theories, realistic drama, and actual comedy.

3.       Inherent Vice

Paul Thomas Anderson is my favorite director. Pretty much anything he makes will end up in my top ten. I don’t recommend this movie to anyone who doesn’t care for Anderson’s films. Even then, I’m wary of recommending it. It’s weird and hard to follow, and that’s what I love about it.

4.       Interstellar

I’m a sucker for science-fiction, and Christopher Nolan’s surprisingly emotional sci-fi film worked for me on every level.

5.       Guardians of the Galaxy

Did I mention I like sci-fi (for the record, this makes three of my top five films science fiction)? The Marvel movies, while great, needed a jolt, and this is definitely that jolt. Sure, it still follows the basic plot of nearly every comic book movie, but it’s a lot of fun to watch.

6.       Gone Girl

David Fincher is another director who can do no wrong in my eyes. He took what would normally be a TV movie and made it respectable. The great performances from the two leads helped out quite a bit, as well.

7.       The Guest

This is definitely one of the weird ones that I liked this year. I recently described it as an ‘80s slasher flick pretending to be a standard thriller. Anything modern that’s reminiscent of an ‘80s slasher movie definitely has my attention.

8.       Whiplash

Show up to see J. K. Simmons’s performance. Enjoy it for the overall great movie that it is.

9.    American Sniper

Forget the controversy (which shouldn’t exist anyway) and just watch this effective portrayal of an American soldier on and off the battlefield.

  10.    John Wick

There are at least five other movies that I would put in this last spot, but I’m going with John Wick because it reminded me how great action films could and should be. This isn’t thoughtful art or anything, but it is a movie that I had one of the most enjoyable reactions to while watching.

Honorable Mention - Here are the five movies that easily could have been in the top ten: The Grand Budapest Hotel, X-Men: Days of Future Past, Edge of Tomorrow, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, and Noah. I also really enjoyed Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Fury, The Babadook, and A Most Violent Year.

The Goofy Melancholy of "Inherent Vice"

Inherent Vice

Paul Thomas Anderson has never been a very mainstream filmmaker (not since Magnolia, anyway, and some would argue even that), but his last two films have been very polarizing. The Master was so complex (or disjointed or weird or nonsensical or etc.) that some critics theorized that Anderson himself was the titular "Master" and/or the film was about the acting process (click here for an article that will lead you down the rabbit hole of Master theories and criticism). Not to get too far into it, but that film allowed itself to be viewed in many different ways. I considered it an intentional comedy (the more you look at Anderson's filmography, the more you'll see that all of his films are at least partially comedic) and counted it among my favorite films of the year. Inherent Vice is equally polarizing, but for different reasons. Perhaps it's because it's so polarizing and different that it count it among my favorite films this year.

Inherent Vice, at first glance, looked like a return to Anderson's roots. A huge, talented cast, overt comedy, 1970s setting...could this be his return to the easy-to-watch-but-still-thematically-rich Boogie Nights-style? No, it is not. Not by a long shot. Inherent Vice isn't Anderson's strangest film (The Master holds that distinction), but it is arguably his least accessible (runner-up? The Master). Despite the goofy previews, Vice is a hopelessly dense film that encourages you not to understand it. I'm fine with that, but others will be frustrated. I'm okay with it being dense because this is an adaptation of the Thomas Pynchon novel of the same name. Pynchon is know for complex stories that don't necessarily make sense...or rather, stories that don't have crystal clear resolutions. Anderson is the perfect candidate to adapt such an author's work because both of them appear to going for the same thing: make something interesting that potentially says a lot about a number of issues without coming out and saying it, and have fun with it.

Anderson stated in Total Film in reference to The Big Sleep, an influence on the film, "I never remember plots in movies. I remember how they make me feel." It is obvious that Anderson feels this way about his own work these days. It's not that there isn't a story in Vice (if anything, there's too much); it's just that Anderson (and Pynchon) is not concerned with making sure you understand everything; they just want you to feel something. I don't take that to mean they want you to care about the characters all that much (though I do really like Vice's Doc Sportello and Bigfoot Bjornsen); I think it applies to the general feeling you get as you watch the film. When it comes to Vice, many of the film's fans will claim the movie made them feel high, and that was the whole point of it. I disagree. This film felt more strangely melancholy to me, a goofy melancholy, if such a feeling exists... I didn't take the confusion and randomness as something meant to make me feel high; I took it as intentional comedy laced with a sad realization that the world has changed. Set in 1970, Inherent Vice is more about the transition from the free-spirited '60s into the paranoid '70s than it is about the actual kidnapping/murder/drug cartel/dentist conglomerate/ex-old lady/stoner plot.

The transition of carefree to conspiracy lends itself to confusion, comedy, and sadness. The plot itself is confusing as Doc (a perfect Joaquin Phoenix) stumbles from one lead to the next adding more questions than answers. It's hard to keep up with, but Doc has a hard time to. Doc isn't only meant to be our conduit; he's also meant to be a representation of the audience we can laugh at. I wasn't trying to figure things out along with Doc, I was laughing at him grow more and more confused. He's also high throughout, so there are a few cheap laughs along those lines, as well. So the feeling is kind of goofy, but the score (by Anderson-regular Jonny Greenwood) reminds us at times that this is actually a pretty depressing end of an era. Certain musical touches reminded me of Apocalypse Now as Willard made his dark journey up the river. Greenwood created an end-of-it-all sound for some scenes that added another layer to the film.

Because of the score, soundtrack, and goofy melancholy of the film, it's tonally all over the place...kind of like the plot. This would certainly be a negative observation for most films, but most films aren't directed by Paul Thomas Anderson. Some would argue that Anderson gets a pass from fanboys (like me, and I do not consider "fanboy" to be a negative term) who turn what would traditionally be considered missteps into strokes of genius. I am certainly guilty of this, but I believe that Anderson knows what he is doing. For this film, however, a bit of that is out of his hands. This is his first sincere attempt at an adaptation (There Will Be Blood was only loosely based on an Upton Sinclair book), and he remained quite faithful to Pynchon's material. The messy, convoluted plot is actually evidence that this is a faithful adaptation. If anyone takes issue with that, then the critique should really be that Pynchon books are too dense for film. I'm almost inclined to agree. I read the book twice (once when it first came out and again before watching the film), and I still had a hard time following it. I can't imagine what it's like for someone completely new to the story. But I am one of the people who think the confusion is a good choice. By the end of the film, it was kind of amusing to share the confused looks Doc made with each twist and turn.

Anderson is one of the few directors out there that I will over-analyze and (possibly) credit too much. (Darren Aronofsky is the other director whose films I find myself automatically liking.) But I believe he has earned it. If a viewer doesn't share this feeling, then they could easily dismiss Inherent Vice as a misstep in Anderson's career. I've looked into these criticisms and from a certain point of view, they are all correct. This film is a mess, it makes no sense, visually it's not on the same obviously impressive level of his other work, etc. From my (fanboy) perspective, all of those "critiques" are intentional and serve the overall purpose of the film.

In my view, the overall purpose of the film was to create the feeling of transition from '60s to the '70s and all of the elements added up to that. It was a messy, confusing time in which people didn't know who could be trusted. The film exudes that feeling. It's about a shift from (slightly) innocent times to dark conspiratorial times. There's a quote at the beginning of the novel and at the end of the film from Paris during the 1968 protest: "Under the paving stones, the beach!" That sums up the theme of both novel and movie; the real world is hidden under progress. Doc is one of those people trying to find the beach, although his search is a bit drug-impaired.

Speaking of Doc, Joaquin Phoenix portrays him in mumbling glory. I didn't feel stoned while watching this, but Phoenix certainly looked it. It's a hilarious and likable performance that I think will only get better with repeated viewings. The film and novel have been compared to The Big Lebowski, and I think the comparison is most apt when looking at Doc and The Dude. Phoenix has mastered the use of facial expressions in this role. It's not that he's good at looking stoned/confused (though he is great at that), it's his reaction to everything. His performance is really more Johnny Depp as Hunter S. Thompson than it is Jeff Bridges as The Dude. It's still very much his own, original performance, however. But there are certainly shades of other famous stoners in there. Phoenix does his best work opposite Josh Brolin as Doc's friend/adversary Bigfoot Bjornsen. Their scenes together are by far the film's most comedic moments. Brolin is being grossly ignored this awards season.

The focus on Doc's expression actually undermines the film's look, though. The majority of the film is shot in close-ups on characters' faces. When seen on the big screen, it's almost strange how close up many of the shots are. This is frustrating because Anderson is so good at composing visuals. There are still moments in this film, but you have to really be looking for them: The Last Supper (Pizza) shot at a house party (which is actually directly taken from the book), the scene at the docks that starts in close up and almost unnoticeably pulls back into a long shot, the scene with Penny on the bench that starts as a long shot and unnoticeably pushes into a close up, and the very effective long take near the end of the film (you'll know what I mean when you see it). Anderson is a master at work, but I prefer his more cinematic moments a la There Will Be Blood. Though I must say, this visual style works for this film.

I could go on, but this is far too wordy a review as it is. There is so much more to discuss, though. I barely mentioned the supporting cast (all of which were great). There are the hallucinations that Doc has leading some to question the majority of the movie. There's the rumored Pynchon cameo that no one will confirm (some think he's the one walking back and forth behind Owen Wilson and Phoenix in the house party scene). I could go on, but I won't. To close, Inherent Vice is not accessible, but if you fully try to access it, it is an immensely rewarding experience. This is not to say that those who dismiss it or dislike it "don't get it" (at this point, that phrase should be banned from film discussion); it just means that some people will see interesting elements where others see faults. It's all about the viewer's perception. It just helps if that view is an Anderson fanboy.

Inherent Vice receives a:

That's Anderson wearing the hood...

Random Thoughts (SPOILERS)

Okay, I need to add more. First off, in defense of being a Paul Thomas Anderson fanboy. The guy doesn't make the same movie twice, I think everyone can agree. I find myself wanting another There Will Be Blood, but I really don't. That would be a waste of Anderson's time. So as long as he keeps doing something new and unique each time, I'm going to keep focusing too deeply on his movies. And I'm also going to like them for their very existence because too few directors are willing to try something new every time out.

Now for the hallucinations. Early in the movie, Doc sees Bigfoot in a commercial, and then Bigfoot directly addresses him. This is the only time it is crystal clear that Doc is hallucinating, but it opens the entire movie to that possibility. I'm always one to argue that the majority of a film is actually happening as we see it, and I am inclined to stick with that position for this film. Others have been theorizing that more outlandish moments, like Bigfoot showing up to eat a whole tray of weed, are hallucinations as well. I can see the argument for this, and it's interesting to watch the film with that possibility in mind, but I like it more believing that most of it is real. Bigfoot showing up to eat a tray of weed is a more powerful scene when it actually happens because it shows that Bigfoot is very troubled, and Doc truly cares about him (he does shed that tear while watching him eat). It's seems less powerful if it turns out Doc is just seeing things or, worse, Bigfoot is a Tyler Durden-type creation of Doc's mind (that theory is out there, check IMDb). 

What I truly love about Anderson's movies are that they do create a feeling. It's hard to define, but as I watched the film, I wasn't sure that I liked it all that much. But as I thought about it, certain elements stuck with me (the music gets me every time). I couldn't explain why I liked or disliked it, but I wanted to see it again for that feeling. Once I watched it again, I did decide that I liked it, but I still can't accurately describe the feeling it give me. I suppose this is why I'm always up for re-watching an Anderson movie. There are entire articles about whether a movie should have to be viewed more than once. I'm not saying anyone has to watch this film more than once. I just think Anderson's movies get better with each viewing. I'm not sure that's something someone can do intentionally, but it's definitely been the case with the majority of his films. Okay, I'm done now. I'm going to go watch The Master on a loop until Inherent Vice comes out on video.