Family is something that's explored again and again in art. It's how we come into and experience the world, so it seems like it should be easy to understand, but it's not, and through all of our attempts to decipher what it means to be family, and as the definition of family expands, the concept gets less and less cut and dry. The myriad relationships are all fascinating, but there's something about the bond between a father and a son that spawns story upon story. The Master elevates this relationship into maddening greatness, a sprawling tale that refuses to offer easy resolution or sterile symbolism. The interactions between Joaquin Phoenix and Phillip Seymour Hoffman are some of the most tense I've ever seen, and the various role reversals and psychological manipulation add to the overwhelming uncertainty of the film. Predictability in a movie is by no means a bad thing, but post WWII America was high-stakes, and even though its day has run its course, it doesn't deserve the standard whitewashing of Hollywood. Leave it to Paul Thomas Anderson to descend into its darkness and pull out The Master.
The Master is a difficult film. It refuses to compromise its vision of a post-war America that searches for healing in the charismatic vacant places of its infrastructure. It's unsettling to watch the characters come apart at its seams, set to the brilliant score of Johnny Greenwood. Doubt, resurgence and trust lather the film with complex emotion that gives The Master a dark undercurrent. Freddie (Joaquin Phoenix) is a former sailor who is obsessed with sex and liquor. After various troubles with employment and self-control, he serendipitously boards a boat helmed by Lancaster Dodd (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), leader of the quasi-science cult The Cause. Dodd is charismatic, self-doubting, outright hostile towards anyone who questions him, and Freddie is his muse. Freddie finds fulfillment as an acolyte/brewmaster, and his devotion seemingly grows as he submits to psychological tests designed to find the root of his trauma. These scenes of pseudoscience are some of the best of the film-- the tests have to be garbage, none of them make an iota of sense, but they seem to help Freddie, at least until he attacks someone for questioning The Cause. It would have been easy to write off Dodd and his wife (the wonderful Amy Adams) as lunatics or moneylauderers, leaders of a scam, but the complexity and self-doubt the two give their roles makes it seem as if we really are eternal spirits, and that Dodd and Freddie have known each other for trillions of years. The movie has several dreamlike sequences to unearth the traumas of the past, and instead of turning the movie into a cheap metaphor, they add to the feel that all of this really could be eternal. It's a fine line between insanity and clairvoyance, but The Master takes all the right steps without playing it safe.
As mentioned before, The Master isn't a pretty Hollywood movie made to satisfy or enthrall. It's dark, challenging, and the character's motivations aren't always clear. That isn't to say that there isn't hope-- sometimes, in their quiet moments, the characters find reassurance that what they're doing is right. They're few and far between, but they add diversity to an already sprawling film. It adds to an anachronistic American dream that isn't a cheery advertisement, but what it must have been like to find the silence after a storm, even as it continues rampant in your head. America has long been trying to convince itself that it's something apart from itself, an idealized version of a deeply flawed country. In a sense, The Master reminded me of a video game held in equally high regard: Bioshock Infinite. Both rage with the conflict of reality versus a fantasy, with neither looking ideal. However, the choice must be made, and both stories flash back to reveal how the characters arrived to the choice. Where Bioshock Infinite uses violence and racism to accentuate its motifs, The Master delves into the mind of a depraved man and the incorrigible desire to reform him of a cult leader grasping at straws. Neither shy away from the darkest places America reaches. Dodd is a scary synecdote of America: he has an easy charm and dogged determination to fix the most unfixable, but his methods are dubious, and he reacts violently to any perceived slight. Metaphor runs deep throughout The Master, but it never distracts from telling its story.
Paul Thomas Anderson shocked and unsettled us with his vision in There Will Be Blood, with its volcanic violence and greed. He adds another brushstroke to his portrait of America with The Master, a terrifying place, scattered with hope. This is not a film for the impatient, but it rewards those who dive into its world with stark portrayals of what we are.
Final Grade: A+
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