2012 saw renowned director Paul Thomas Anderson lapse into pure meaninglessness, with his absurdly pretentious exhibition of meandering - The Master - which operates as a film that attempts to tackle or at least discuss many, many serious issues and in so doing it fails to discuss even the issue of its own characters.
The film dedicates itself largely to two characters: one, the main, Freddie, and two, the Master. And yet, at the beginning and end of the film both of these characters are exactly the same, they are explored only in specific, key areas otherwise not at all, and the events that the film depicts don't even feel important in the scope of their stories. The film attempts to speak on various issues and ultimately does none of them justice, and they all come off as gimmicks, tacked on to make the film seem more original.
Joaquin Phoenix and Phillip Seymour Hoffman give life-alteringly good performances, a showcase of which is the fantastic interview scene which takes place over the course of several minutes of repeated questioning, the former actor gradually becoming more emotionally worked up and even distressed at times, while Hoffman spouts lines here and there about his philosophy, decorating the cake nicely with his weirdo Scientology icing. There's another great scene where Hoffman shines in showing the Master's impulsivity when attempting to disable a critic, if the reader requires a more fulfilling representation of his talent in the film.
The picture is a lot like that, though, a fantastic scene here and there, but altogether, a cluttered and unfocused mess. In spite of the beautiful cinematography of this film, and the outstanding performances, the movie is, in a word, purposeless. The definition of "pretentious" is for something to affect a larger purpose or importance than it actually has, and in this we can see that the Master more than fits this bill. For one, this messy assembly of loosely connected ideas that never go anywhere is pretentious for affecting that it has any purpose, for it doesn't, but it goes farther than this. In the end, the deflated and useless finish writes itself six feet below ground, but in this task it simultaneously twiddles its own moustache acting superior and genius, especially when some of Hoffman's final words are uttered, and it's as though the picture is unable to escape its own ego.
He says "If you ever do learn to live without a master, do tell us, because you'll be the first in human history" and then proceeds to sing eerily. The scene, though decent, sums up perfectly the faux "importance" of the film. 2 and a half hours of nonsense, little to no character development and a non-existent plot, only to cement a message that humans have had leaders throughout history. Wow. Perhaps it's deeper than that, perhaps it's a commentary on the master himself, how he excuses his own flaws because he deems it a sacrifice for leadership, and if not him, then who? But even then, this is a point the film fails to make the audience care about. Why does it matter? In short, it doesn't. The characters can be unpacked all you want, but their end goal doesn't change, doesn't falter, doesn't adapt to their own emotions, and ultimately the film feels entirely pointless, like a poor project written by a man affecting talent greater than that which he actually possesses.
The film may find fans in those that prioritise good looks above all else, ironic for a medium whose fans often criticise that which is "flashy" but lacking in substance, and perhaps the performances persuade some viewers that there is something lurking there, under the surface, waiting to be peeled back. If there is though, you'll need a ninety inch scalpel and some firm tweezers to pull out anything but dust from this bloodless wound of a film.
The film dedicates itself largely to two characters: one, the main, Freddie, and two, the Master. And yet, at the beginning and end of the film both of these characters are exactly the same, they are explored only in specific, key areas otherwise not at all, and the events that the film depicts don't even feel important in the scope of their stories. The film attempts to speak on various issues and ultimately does none of them justice, and they all come off as gimmicks, tacked on to make the film seem more original.
Joaquin Phoenix and Phillip Seymour Hoffman give life-alteringly good performances, a showcase of which is the fantastic interview scene which takes place over the course of several minutes of repeated questioning, the former actor gradually becoming more emotionally worked up and even distressed at times, while Hoffman spouts lines here and there about his philosophy, decorating the cake nicely with his weirdo Scientology icing. There's another great scene where Hoffman shines in showing the Master's impulsivity when attempting to disable a critic, if the reader requires a more fulfilling representation of his talent in the film.
The picture is a lot like that, though, a fantastic scene here and there, but altogether, a cluttered and unfocused mess. In spite of the beautiful cinematography of this film, and the outstanding performances, the movie is, in a word, purposeless. The definition of "pretentious" is for something to affect a larger purpose or importance than it actually has, and in this we can see that the Master more than fits this bill. For one, this messy assembly of loosely connected ideas that never go anywhere is pretentious for affecting that it has any purpose, for it doesn't, but it goes farther than this. In the end, the deflated and useless finish writes itself six feet below ground, but in this task it simultaneously twiddles its own moustache acting superior and genius, especially when some of Hoffman's final words are uttered, and it's as though the picture is unable to escape its own ego.
He says "If you ever do learn to live without a master, do tell us, because you'll be the first in human history" and then proceeds to sing eerily. The scene, though decent, sums up perfectly the faux "importance" of the film. 2 and a half hours of nonsense, little to no character development and a non-existent plot, only to cement a message that humans have had leaders throughout history. Wow. Perhaps it's deeper than that, perhaps it's a commentary on the master himself, how he excuses his own flaws because he deems it a sacrifice for leadership, and if not him, then who? But even then, this is a point the film fails to make the audience care about. Why does it matter? In short, it doesn't. The characters can be unpacked all you want, but their end goal doesn't change, doesn't falter, doesn't adapt to their own emotions, and ultimately the film feels entirely pointless, like a poor project written by a man affecting talent greater than that which he actually possesses.
The film may find fans in those that prioritise good looks above all else, ironic for a medium whose fans often criticise that which is "flashy" but lacking in substance, and perhaps the performances persuade some viewers that there is something lurking there, under the surface, waiting to be peeled back. If there is though, you'll need a ninety inch scalpel and some firm tweezers to pull out anything but dust from this bloodless wound of a film.