Magnolia
Rated R
www.magnoliamovie.com/
Opens Friday, Jan. 7
It won't surprise me a bit if Magnolia bombs. It's
too ambitious, and anyone looking to slice and dice filmmaking
Wunderkind Paul Thomas Anderson will find plenty
to trash.
The film is sprawling and flashy, but simultaneously intimate
and claustrophobic. It's three hours long, with no conventional
plot in sight. It's populated with physically and emotionally
ruined and/or dying characters whose lives are intertwined,
all crying and screaming at one another a lot. Its symbolism--from
Biblical references to self-conscious deconstruction of
its own structure--is sporadically heavy-handed. Its dialogue
and score are occasionally overwrought, and its fragmented
narrative is sometimes awkward.
In short, if tight, well-made stories without loose ends
are your idea of great cinema, Magnolia will leave
you immensely frustrated.
The eagerly anticipated follow-up to writer-director Anderson's
commercial and critical breakthrough Boogie Nights,
Magnolia contains all sorts of blemishes. But, what
a glorious, ambitious and audacious mess. Magnolia
is big in a short timeframe: 12 intersecting characters
make up nine narratives over a 24-hour period in the San
Fernando Valley.
There's no kitschy '70s nostalgia or Mark Walhberg dance
numbers to help sugarcoat Anderson's acerbic, melancholy
subject matter this time. Magnolia is so emotionally
grueling that it leaves you feeling punch-drunk, as if you've
gone 12 rounds.
In both Hard Eight and Boogie Nights, Anderson's
characters emerge from shattered or nonexistent homes and
never look back. They align themselves instead with other
neglected misfits and invent surrogate families, which provide
support, love and unconditional acceptance. Many of Magnolia's
characters, however, aren't afforded the luxury of creating
family substitutes or ignoring the past. They're stuck with
(and, worse, defined by) their biological relationships.
More than half of Magnolia's characters fall into
one of two categories: They're either negligent parents,
suffocating with regret and guilt for past actions, or dysfunctional,
loveless children traumatized by horrible upbringings. Two
fathers--Earl Partridge (Jason Robards), a TV producer,
and Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), the beloved host of
America's longest-running quiz show, which pits children
against adults--are dying of cancer and seeking peace with
their estranged children. Partridge's bitter son, Frank
Mackey (Tom Cruise, boldly playing yet another role that
makes him look like an ass), is an obnoxious, macho Tony
Robbins type. Gator's daughter, Claudia (Melora Walters),
wants nothing to do with him or anyone else; she just wants
blow. Quiz-show stars Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman)
and Donnie Smith (William H. Macy) experience parental affection
only while succeeding on Gator's show: The difference is
that Spector is the current champion, while Smith was a
star in the '60s and is now barely staying afloat.
Some will doubtlessly fault Anderson for letting his imagination
run amuck (especially during a natural-disaster climax unlike
any you've ever seen). But, warts and all, Magnolia
validates Anderson as more than a cult hero; beneath the
hype is a talented artist. The 29-year-old filmmaker has
made only three films, yet all demonstrate significant growth
and maturity, a vibrant, wild-eyed vision, a sophisticated
grasp of film language and, most impressively, a rich insight
into the dark cracks of human nature. Unlike many contemporaries,
he's more interested in conversation and meaningful glances
than guns and pop-culture references.
True, Anderson is still developing, and Magnolia
undeniably contains passages that play like a young director's
failed experiment. But the majority of the film exhibits
the remarkable confidence of an accomplished veteran.
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Willamette Week | originally
published January 5,
1999
|
