MAGNOLIA A
USA (188 mi) 1999
d: Paul Thomas Anderson
I have a feeling, one
of those gut feelings, that I’ll make pretty good movies the rest of my
life. And maybe I’ll make some clunkers,
maybe I’ll make some winners, but I guess the way that I really feel is that
Magnolia is, for better or worse, the best movie I’ll ever make.
—Paul Thomas Anderson
Among the more intensely personal films out there, contemplative,
ambitious, while often feeling exhilarating, taken for a wild ride on an out-of-control
locomotive carrying a heavy weight that at any time can be catapulted in your
direction, like an accident waiting to happen. Much is made of a jarring prologue about long
odds, asking what are the chances for strange and bizarre events to occur, that
no one would believe, yet inevitably they do happen all the time, as life
defies the odds. Showing a penchant for
camera movement and a constantly changing editing scheme, the film is literally
a choreography of shifting emotions, like being caught up in a wave cycle that
repeats endlessly, with viewers riding wave after wave of emotions. The explosive nature of these feelings, literally
gushing from an open hydrant, is emphasized throughout, with occasional moments
that simply soar with dramatic power.
Arguably the best of all Anderson films, largely due to the dazzling
operatic fashion in which the entirety of his ideas are displayed, tapping into
life and death issues, especially pain, longing, guilt, regret, and
forgiveness, with redemption being the operative word, which this film
expresses with grace and style. Easily
the most Altmanesque Anderson film, where the ensemble concept drives the
narrative, with a mosaic of multiple stories overlapping into other stories,
all careening towards similar ends, leaving an audience thoroughly satiated
afterwards, as this is a gloriously unapologetic cinema manifesto, with an
unflinching style of bravura filmmaking that is fiercely original and simply
not matched elsewhere, filled with detailed side trips that border on the bizarre,
yet all contribute to the whole. One of
the more amazing films to initially experience, with viewers blown away by the
ingenuity, yet the breathtaking style is equally matched by a complexity of
thought and depth of dramatic content, making this one of the more challenging
films on record, as it can feel overwhelming to process afterwards, driven by
desperation, movingly melodramatic, like being hit by a tidal wave or a freight
train of emotion. Any film that leaves
viewers with seemingly unfathomable ideas that need to be figured out
afterwards is always a good thing, as that means the film evolves long after
the audience has left the theater. This
gestation period is remarkable, as it initially happened in an era before the
popularity of smartphones and the Internet, so you had to figure things out the
old-fashioned way, through curiosity and personal exploration, asking yourself
what it all means. What was certain,
however, right from the start, was the cinematic mastery on display, as even if
individual little pieces felt odd, overlong, or didn’t fit, the overall delight
in experiencing the surprises this film offers is unforgettable, as there are
few others like it.
Among the guiding principles of the film is that there is no
clear-cut protagonist, in the manner of Altman’s Nashville
(1975) or Short
Cuts (1993), where instead there is a whirlwind of moving parts or subplots,
with no fewer than ten characters all collectively feeding into the overall
vision, fueled by loners or outcasts who are among the loneliest people on the
planet, immediately emphasized when a myriad of characters are introduced in
song by Aimee Mann, former vocalist of ‘Til Tuesday, whose fragile songs of
vulnerability and pain contribute to Anderson’s dramatic conception, featured
throughout the film, Aimee
Mann ONE - YouTube (2:54).
One is the loneliest number that
you’ll ever know
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number that
you'll ever do
One is the loneliest number, much
much worse than two
One is the number divided by two
Jumping back and forth between Earl Partridge (Jason Robards
in his final role), a bedridden misanthropic elderly man dying of cancer, Linda
(Julianne Moore), his shrill and neurotic trophy wife, drug-riddled, in a state
of hysteria throughout, the essence of high strung and high maintenance
(incredulously nominated for Best Supporting Actress, though she’s the only one
who consistently overacts), Phil (Philip Seymour Hoffman, a revelation in the
role, understated throughout, arguably the best thing in the film), his kind
and patiently caring male nurse, Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), a veteran
game show host who discovers he’s dying of cancer, Claudia (Melora Walters),
his estranged drug-addicted daughter who uses men and cocaine to numb the pain,
Stanley (Jeremy Blackman), a lonely child prodigy and long-running contestant
featured on his quiz show, exploited and browbeaten by his overbearing father
(Michael Bowen), Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), former child quiz show
sensation who was hit by lightning and survived, but lost his smarts, whose own
parents stole all his earnings, Officer Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly), a
goodhearted cop looking to make a difference, and Frank T.J. Mackey (Tom
Cruise, easily his best role, nominated for Best Supporting Actor), a bombastic
and misogynistic television huckster and long-lost son of Earl, certainly one
of the established themes is that the sins of the fathers will be forced upon
their children, providing a roller coaster ride of conflicting emotions and
unending drama. The characters run the
gamut of wide-ranging, human emotions, often captured in despicable moments of
their life, with the film shining a light on what they’d prefer was kept
hidden, creating an uncomfortable awkwardness throughout, yet the beauty of the
film rests upon the decision of nearly every character to try to do better, to
struggle with their abysmal failures, at times feeling like a demolition derby
of contrasting emotions, each crashing into one another, creating a chain
reaction, leaving behind a series of failed efforts in the scrap heap. In a world numb to their efforts, that
seemingly doesn’t care, viewers have a decidedly different vantage point, an
insider’s view, as we’re privy to these intimate moments, sharing the pain and
anguish with each character, knowing they wish it was different.
One of the strengths of this director is his devoted empathy
for the characters, as if each represents an autobiographical stage in his own
life, representing something precious and significant. More than any other Anderson film, the
audience sympathizes as well, perhaps due to the mysterious strangeness of how
these circuitously intertwined lives are presented, where we’re along for the
journey, taking note at each new development.
It’s rare to find such an enormously bighearted cop, as he’s ostracized
by his fellow officers as being too soft, yet he has an agenda, suggesting “As
we move through life, we should try to do good.” While we’re witness to the self-destructive
behavior of Claudia, snorting coke nonstop, prone to dangerous mood swings and
a built-up anger, refusing to even speak to her father, kicking him out of the
apartment when he announces his illness, screaming at him to leave, wanting to
be rid of him, the police officer sees none of that, instead knocking on her
door investigating a disturbance in the building, with music turned up to peak
volume, shattering everyone’s last nerve.
Once he gets her to quiet down, he takes a more personal interest,
sympathizing with a troubled woman living alone, finding her attractive, so
lonely himself that he actually asks her out on a date. What are the chances of this happening? Before the night is done he loses his gun in
the bushes observing a crime in action, a humiliating moment that requires the
attention of dozens of other cops searching for his gun, only to later appear
out of nowhere. While there’s no
rational explanation for the appearance of the gun, nonetheless it does. All of this is part of a narrative chain
reaction that continually reoccurs with each of the characters, seemingly with
no rhyme or reason, yet strange things keep happening. Perhaps the most outlandish moments occur
with Frank, a self-professed alpha-male decked out in black leather who teaches
a “Seduce and Destroy” seminar whose singular message is “Respect the cock and
tame the cunt,” repeated to howling applause from his worshipping
followers. His mantra of male supremacy
is a hoot, “full of sound and fury,” his colossal arrogance appalling, yet we
are transfixed by the sheer cultish drama he orchestrates wielding enormous
power that literally jumps off the screen.
In complete contrast, we have the innocence of Stanley, a child lugging
more bags of books than he can carry, spending hours at the library surrounded
by them all, scouring each for more specific information to learn. Yet when it’s time for the quiz show, he
reports a need to go to the bathroom, which falls on deaf ears, as the show is
about to begin, where the kid is a walking encyclopedia, filled with knowledge
on literally every subject.
Simultaneously, Jimmy Gator is suffering from the effects of his
sickness, losing all clarity, including his eyesight, unable to recall what he
just said, with his mind wandering, going into a fog, all exposed on live
television, causing panic and alarm from the technical crew. During a brief break, when Stanley again announces
a need to pee, his request is rudely denied, informed he needs to hold it,
where his normally active buzzer goes silent for an entire segment, with the
other kids taking advantage of him, forcing him to answer every single
question, with viewers caught up in his excruciating personal torment, as time
literally stops, seemingly forever, where the exposed vulnerability of this
mistreated child is simply enormous, with Stanley eventually peeing on himself
in front of the cameras, with his angry Dad going bonkers in the waiting room,
thinking only of the lost money his son won’t generate.
Continually crosscutting from one story to another, giving
all characters equal time, viewers are constantly injected with new blood,
experiencing an increasingly elevated dynamic of new drama, maintaining a
surprising level of intensity for a three-hour film. Donnie Smith, however, may be the saddest and
most pathetic character in the film, a washed-up former quiz show whiz kid that
is now a failed electronic salesman recently fired from his job, denounced as a
failure, where he can’t explain why he’s getting braces at his ripe old age, or
how he can afford it, ending up at a bar where the handsome young bartender is
wearing braces. In a strange game, one
customer (Henry Gibson) is luring the bartender with dollar bills, taking his
focus away from Donnie, who’s also trying to get his attention, eventually
having a seat next to his rival, where he’s like death warmed over in terms of
his dismal outlook, telling the entire bar he was hit by lightning, doomed ever
since as his brain was scrambled, leaving him sad and stupid, actually blurting
out his declaration of love for the bartender, a rare moment of devastation and
open humiliation that also falls on deaf ears, left to reflect on the
consequences of his miserable life. It’s
only in the latter part of the film that we learn of the connection of Earl and
Frank, and it comes in a surprising moment of lucidity for Earl, with Phil tenderly
at his bedside engaging him, as Earl is otherwise unconscious through most of
the film. But for one moment, he
reflects upon what a selfish lout he’s been, recalling his first marriage, his
first real love, Frank’s mother, confessing how badly he mistreated her,
fooling around with other women, even abandoning her when she got sick with
cancer, forcing Frank to take care of her when he was barely a teenager, and
now he’s dying alone, filled with guilt and regret, excoriating himself for all
his stupid mistakes. Phil hears all
this, as well as his plea to find Frank, before he lapses back into
unconsciousness. Heroically, he attempts
to get through the telephone hotlines promoting Frank’s self-help tapes,
finding someone who can put him in touch with Frank, which is a Herculean effort,
happening simultaneous to a cringeworthy TV interview that methodically strips
away the repressed details of his personal life, but eventually, after refusing
to recognize him, Frank arrives at the door, angrily denouncing his father in a
spontaneous rage, calling him everything in the book, refusing to show an ounce
of remorse before he too breaks down, succumbing to the moment, perhaps even
blaming the old man for getting out of it too easily, as he’s a shell of his
former self. Afterwards, with Phil tearfully
administering a high dosage pain-relieving morphine medication that will likely
never allow Earl to regain consciousness, the remarkable happens, again fueled
by an Aimee Mann song, Magnolia - "Wise
Up" scene - YouTube (4:37), with characters breaking into song,
including Earl, a truly spectacular scene of enormous transcendent power,
probably the defining moment of the film, where the memory of this scene is
indelibly imprinted into the collective viewers’ subconscious. Meanwhile, Donnie devises a devious plan of
robbery, stealing money for the braces he doesn’t really need, but thinks it
will romantically link him to the bartender, a hair-brained scheme that even he
gives up on, changing his mind in midstream, but gets locked out trying to
return the money, climbing a gutter to get back in, where he’s spotted by a
cruising Officer Jim. With that moral
dilemma in play, perhaps questioning the balance of the universe, the film is
not afraid to explore the supernatural, where a downpour of rainfall subsides,
only to be followed by what amounts to an apocalyptical event of Biblical
proportions, something you read about but never experience, as frogs literally
fall from the sky, by the hundreds and thousands, like a plague of locusts, where
we see Stanley finally telling his father, “Dad, you need to be nicer to me,”
with Stanley, perhaps the only one not freaked out by the experience, seen joyously
watching the frogs projected against the library wall, muttering, “This is
something that happens,” suggesting the unpredictable really does happen, with
one of the descending frogs hitting Donnie, knocking him to the ground where he
smashes his teeth, perhaps now actually needing braces for repair, finally rescued
by a friendly officer on the scene, who is seen afterwards paying a visit to
Claudia, previously viewed as an open wound, but now, somehow different, leaving
the film open ended and more optimistic, a collective trauma veering towards
forgiveness, shown in a final shot, Save Me from Magnolia -
YouTube (4:20).
