The Master (2012)

Something is broken in Freddie Quell’s mind. We can feel it from the first moment we see him. He seems unable to focus on any one thing, and he has an overall aggressive demeanor that seems as if it will bubble over at any second. Occasionally it does. This is not wholly new territory for filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson, who has spent his last few films (Punch-Drunk Love, There Will Be Blood) exploring characters with—to put it mildly—brains that don’t function quite like they should. Not everything is in its right place, and that is certainly true of Freddie; the central character in Anderson’s new film The Master. This is a man metaphorically, and sometimes literally, lost at sea.

Freddie is portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix in, well, masterful fashion; work that completely excuses his misguided multi-year performance art piece that resulted in the anticlimax of the mockumentary I’m Still Here. He is a veteran of World War II, and like so many ex-soldiers he has come back to find that he no longer has a home in his country. He is prone to bursts of violence that are often prompted by nothing, and he is able to self-sabotage his way out of any work he gets. He spends his days flailing about without direction, until he leaps aboard a ship owned by writer Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour-Hoffman) and becomes involved with The Cause; a vague religion/cult that is seems tailor-made for an aimless soul like Freddie.

That’s more or less the extent of the plot, but like the last few Anderson movies it is less about the story than it is about the characters and the feeling of the whole affair. The Master is not the mountain of dread known as There Will Be Blood, but instead it seeks to affect audiences in a much subtler way. This is perhaps the most introverted film that Anderson has ever made. It still looks gorgeous—the waves of the ocean have not looked this amazing onscreen in quite some time—but the film does not intend to be as epic and sweeping as past efforts. There are fewer wide, open spaces. Here it is all about what can happen when minds clash rather than bodies, with the best example being the superb processing scene that comes toward the end of the film’s first third.

This is an episodic film, to be sure. There isn’t much of a shape to the proceedings, and Anderson is looking more to create great individual moments than to have them all cohere. The structure can be so blurry that many have argued that the film never actually bothers to be about anything. That’s hogwash to me; if anything, The Master may have too much on its plate, but that’s not the kind of criticism I’m going to hurl at it just yet. For me, The Master is remarkable just for its understated power. It’s a movie that leaves a deep and lasting impact, but it happens gradually. There is no climax where it all clicks in to place.

I should pause here to address the elephant in the room, and you should know that I absolutely hate typing that phrase. The Master’s subject matter has been controversial ever since the script first came into being, as The Cause has many similarities to the infamous belief system known as Scientology. (Chief among them: both “religions” are the work of science fiction writers.) In the months—nay, years—leading up to the film’s release, it has been billed only as Paul Thomas Anderson’s anti-Scientology movie. Anyone who actually sees the film will know this isn’t even kind of true. The Master is certainly critical of The Cause and it’s veracity, but Anderson is not at all interested in creating a two-hour takedown of Scientology. He instead uses the idea of this belief system as a launching pad to explore something infinitely more interesting. This is a movie about Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd, not Scientology.

Family plays an important role in Lancaster Dodd’s life. In particular, his wife Peggy (Amy Adams) may be even more interested in getting The Cause off the ground. In public she is the loving wife, but in a select few moments we are able to see the power she truly has. They have a daughter (Ambyr Childers), who recently married the handsome Clark (Rami Malek), all while their son Val (Jesse “Landry” Plemons) sits off to the side, skeptical.

Anderson spent his first several films still trying to figure out the kind of auteur he wanted to be, but between There Will Be Blood and The Master he seems to now be in complete control of his craft. He’s mostly done away with his more Scorsesian tendencies—though he was quite good with them anyway—and has instead opted for a colder, more Kubrickian approach. He’s no longer interested in pleasing crowds. If anything, The Master proves that he is quite content with keeping them at arm’s length. This is a film with no intention of ever reaching normal, satisfying conclusions. It doesn’t even settle for the straight-up bleakness of There Will Be Blood. Here there is plenty of room for all kinds of interpretations, which in its own way is kind of hopeful.

The go-to line in most The Master reviews has been that a second, perhaps third, viewing is absolutely essential. For me, this is undoubtedly true. I found the film to be exhilaratingly dense, exquisitely performed and beautifully shot, and I expect it can only be helped by further examination. Others will have very little interest in revisiting the film, and that is entirely fine. There may have been a time when Anderson made movies for everyone, but that time is gone. For many, The Master may not be able to get its hooks into them. This was not so for me. I bit the hook, was reeled in, cooked and eaten for supper. I’m more than willing to provide seconds.

Grade: A