Riffing on 'The Master' (2012)

Synopsis: Freddie Quell (Joaquin Pheonix) is a WW2 veteran struggling with his inner demons in an unfamiliar post-war society. Living for a time as a transient, he encounters Lancaster Dodd, leader of a mysterious religious movement known only as 'The Cause', after drunkenly stealing onto his boat, and is quickly drawn into the world of his beliefs.

1. As a child and young man, I was part of a 'radical evangelical church', or at least my parents were. From the age of eleven onwards, I witnessed the slow decaying affect it had on almost everybody around me. The leader was an almost Dodd-like figure, a charismatic enigma, who was eventually discovered to be fiddling the finances. The similarities between my experiences and The Master are obvious, and it illustrates the point that the concept of Paul Thomas Anderson's latest film is grounded in more truth than we might imagine. Movements and powers lacking rationality exist all around us. 

2. Anyway. The Master is possibly PTA's most fully realized achievement. Both Boogie Nights and Magnolia are Altman-esque ensemble pieces; sprawling connect-the-dot narratives encompassing a time and a place. There Will Be Blood is a dedicated one-man show, expending almost its entire energy on the fractured psyche of Daniel Plainview. The Master takes the same road as TWBB, but expands the canvass to two men, both flip-sides of a similar coin; outsiders, interlopers, dropouts. It's as close as anybody's come to pure literature on film, more so than any loose cinematic attempt to film a book. Of course, There Will Be Blood was based (again, loosely) on Upton Sinclair's OIL! but The Master achieves that feeling of pure literature, in the vein of, say, Faulkner, Beckett or Woolf. You can almost hear the internal monologues of the characters, thanks in no small part to the almost transcendental acting throughout. And the whole film leaves you in that satisfied, yet completely unsatisfied, limbo of dedicating part of your life to finishing a beautiful book, which is a remarkable achievement for a film of only two hours in length. It's a film much more interested in those moments of understated beauty than concrete narrative; a laugh, the curl of a lip, the churning of water, the flash of a camera. There is simply nothing here that is to be found in other films of its type. Words cannot adequately describe the sheer pleasure of watching it. All this is down to Anderson and his idiosyncratic vision; he pulls together the disparate tendrils of American fiction and dream, weaving them into a unique and vibrant tapestry.



3. But what's it about? Why do we have this film? Who is the Master, and who the slave? Well, like all great literature, that's up for endless debate. This is not a film with any easy answers. It's a transient piece of cinema; Roger Ebert stated that it left him 'grasping at air'. The movie is essentially a Rorschach Test, open to many interpretations. Many devoted cinephiles simply have not been able to get their head around it and despite it's prominent position in the 2013 Academy Awards canon, it just doesn't have those choreographed qualities necessary to 'bag the big one', as it were. The ending is anti-climactic, the character development seemingly negligible (Joaquin Phoenix's Freddie Quell begins the film as an alcoholic, womanizing drifter, and apparently ends in the same way) and there is no 'pay-off'. At least not in the traditional sense. It's a character study, more than anything, one of the best I've ever seen, and also follows There Will Be Blood as a chronicle of the birth of America's modernity. The period setting in integral, with the bursting synapse of American Capitalism in full flow, and the conservatism of 1950's post-war society serving as a backdrop to these two peerless men. At the flowering point of our modern world, Anderson has unearthed an opus of those left behind.

But we'll get to that. First, there's the elephant in the room to confront.

4. Lets get the least interesting aspect of the film out of the way first, so we can move on. The big hubbub at the time of release was centered around the apparent similarities between Seymour Hoffman's Lancaster Dodd and L. Ron Hubbard. Many anticipated grisly lawsuits, a Scientology speciality, though there had been no official statement that the film directly concerned the followers and beliefs of the Church of Scientology. Anderson later stated that, as well as Hubbard, he based much of the plot and concept of the film on anecdotes related to him by Jason Robard on the set of Magnolia, as well as the life of John Steinbeck. PTA also apparently previewed it for Tom Cruise, Hollywood's most famous and vocal Scientologist, and later stated that Cruise had 'some issues' with it, most notably scenes where the authenticity of Dodd's belief system is questioned directly. For his part, Anderson never altered or removed any scenes from the film, whether due to lack of pressure, or simply steadfast belief that it was not necessary or artistically authentic.

5. Nevertheless, there are several moments within The Master where characters explicitly or implicitly question whether the mysterious belief system (labelled 'The Cause') is simply a product of Dodd's imagination. In one, Dodd's own son directly tells Quell that his father is 'making it all up as he goes along', and receives as beating from Quell in response. In another, Dodd flounders when confronted by an outspoken critic, resulting in one of the most memorably humorous put-downs in any film (and also the only usage of the word 'cult' in the entire movie). Dodd himself seems mortally wounded by any criticism of his mysterious and eccentric beliefs, retorting as if he finds them somehow self-evident. Rather than engage in rational argument, Dodd shouts down his critics in displays of visceral verbal ferocity. Yet at other, quieter moments, we see him engulfed in reflective silence, almost as if he is wrestling with a great guilt or secret. As with everything else, there are no true answers in The Master. Every person I have talked to has a different take on the entire scope of the film.

6. Of all the scenes that could have courted lawsuits, there is the one that comes closest to the mark. It comes toward the end of the film, and is somehow more subtle than its precedents. It's also one of my favourite scenes in the entire film. As a product of his growing success, Lancaster Dodd is previewing his highly anticipated second book to devoted followers. By this time, we have begun to more than suspect he may not be all that he seems (as has Freddie; indeed, this scene is the final time they will be together; Quell will escape Dodd in the next, literally riding off toward the horizon, and will never again be an intrinsic part of the Cause). One of his acolytes (the wonderful, criminally underrated Laura Dern) approaches Dodd to ask about fundamental changes to the ideological framework of the Cause in the new book; particularly the changing of the word 'recall' to 'imagine' in relation to the visions received in the hypnagogic state followers of Dodd's Cause engage in. The scene essentially establishes the falsity of Dodd's religious constructions: in the first book, the assumption was made that followers were 'recalling memories' from former lives; however, in this book, the word 'imagine' insinuates that Dodd does not readily distinguish between the 'reality' of these memories and pure confabulation. Whether a mere Freudian slip on his part or something else, the discrepancy causes Dodd to become defensive, again reverting to violent outburst when confronted with criticism. 

7.  Despite certain similarities between the Cause and the CoS, for me, viewing the film as a Hubbard 'biography' of sorts, or even as a direct critique of Scientology, detracted from the true essence of what PTA is trying to say. Watching with my girlfriend, she lamented the fact that PTA never lets us in on the inner workings or the true intellectual essence of 'The Cause'. We never really peek behind the veil; we simply know that it concerns some form of subconcious time-travel, and seems to be based primarily on the idea of Dialectics. In one sense, the entire film could be seen as revolving around the idea of whether or not Dodd is a charlatan; in another sense, this barely matters at all. What matters is that these two characters found each other. What matters is that Quell and Dodd spend this brief, ephemeral period of their life together, and affect each other in such a way.

8. Because, at is its very core, the film is not about Scientology. It's not even about the unreasonability of marginalized views, such as Dodd's. This becomes increasingly evident the more you watch. It's certainly not about whether or not Dodd is a con artist, just like Boogie Nights is not really about porn and There Will Be Blood is not about the oil industry. PTA is the master (pun intended) of character studies, and that's what his films are, at their most simplistic. As stated earlier, this is one of the finest I have ever seen. And much of that is due to Phoenix's Freddie Quell, who is, in title at least, not the Master, but the Slave of this film; slave to his traumatic war experiences, his alcoholism, his wanton womanizing, and, finally, slave, of sorts, to Dodd, who seeks to make of his protege something of an example, proof that 'The Cause' can redefine the life of a doomed man. Phoenix plays Quell as a pent up, jittering force-of-nature; there are the foundations of the very earth running through his every mannerism. From the first time we see Quell nestling up to a pair of sand-sculpted breasts in the South Pacific, we feel every ounce of his psychosomatic agony; Pheonix is so unsettlingly brilliant in the role that every twitch and jerk of body and face brings to light new revelations about the character; his desperate loneliness, his abject vulnerability, his cracked and broken mind, reflected in that stooped gait, fists dug into the small of his back. His speech is broken, difficult to understand at times, and Phoenix's haunted face, gaunt and shadowy, pulls everything together, plastered with a twisted grin. He's the ultimate lost soul, a figure of utter malaise lost in a society building itself into modernity around him. We catch glimpses of a time when he was happy, during which scenes Anderson's sometimes disorienting cinematography, possibly echoing the disorganized and paranoid state of Freddie's mind, is paired back to pure aesthetic simplicity, the candidness of joy, of happiness. His childhood sweetheart, Doris, waits for him, but he does not return to her until the end of the movie, and by then it is too late.

9. Naturally, Quell's implosive nature initially excites and impels Dodd, just as it does the audience. The two share a love of hard moonshine (perhaps another subtle indication of the falsity of Dodd's beliefs), something that Dodd's wife, Peggy (Amy Adams, marvellously controlled and simmering) objects to instantly. The consummate showman finds in his heart a place for the lowly, untameable 'animal', as he often calls him, for he sees in Freddie aspects of himself. To accentuate this, Anderson often films them in split-screen, or sitting across from each other, directly confronting each other. In no scene is this duality more obvious than the 'jail cell' scene, in which the men's emotions finally get the better of them, and they let rip. The screen is literally split down the middle, and the eye darts to and fro, as the characters bounce of one another. It's difficult to label this film 'funny', but this particular scene had me in stitches. 

10. The first scenes with Dodd and Quell, particularly the 'counselling' scene, are acting masterclasses, almost sparring matches, as one would expect of Pheonix and Hoffman. Quell, as yet unsure of Dodd's motivations, agrees to participate in a form of counselling, more a psychological interrogation, which Dodd calls 'processing'. At this point in the film, Hoffman's commanding performance has us in steadfast acceptance of Dodd and his beliefs, even if we may suspect otherwise. Sheer charisma can sometimes overcome rationality, and we begin to see how men and women have been drawn into such movements, and how figures like Dodd attract followers. 'Processing' follows the form of a series questions, which Quell must answer without hesitation, and without blinking: are you thoughtless in your remarks? Are you unpredictable (in answer to which, Freddie farts)? Have you ever had a sexual encounter with a member of your family? Quell treats it as a game, initially, yet as the layers of Freddie's psyche peel back one by one, we begin to see a side of Dodd that desires the raw, naked emotion of the man before him, and we witness trauma of a separate kind to that of war in Freddie's reactions. The scene is sinister, somehow greatly homoerotic, and whips itself into a wild frenzy of emotion that binds the two characters together for the remainder of the film. Dodd will later attempt to use Freddie's past against him in a sadistic manner, as he puts him through the rigors of The Cause's healing process. 

11. The question is: who is the Master? Quell is a despicable, almost pitiable, figure, lost in a wilderness he cannot fathom, nor control. He is, almost inevitably, drawn into Dodd's movement and, maybe, exploited by a monotheistic world view. If, as Dodd says at the end of the film, we are all of us living for a Master, is Quell simply one those who follow, and Dodd one of those who lead, as the old generalization says? Maybe it is not so simple. When Freddie finally takes leave of The Cause, Dodd states that if they encounter each other in the next life, Quell will be his enemy. It got me to thinking about the similarities between the two men, which are obvious, but also the fact that their almost ill-fated partnership has come to an end not because of Dodd, but only because Freddie refuses to follow Dodd's dogma, the very dogma which has now scuppered Dodd's peculiar freedom. As the figurehead of an increasingly recognized global movement, that primal sense of liberation is gone. The honeymoon period is lost. He is under the control of his followers. He is, as we have seen, under the control of his wife. He has, in a sense, created his own 'Master'. Freddie, on the other hand, is still 'free'. He was able to ride the motorcycle to the horizon without returning. For him, freedom is not simply an 'exercise', exhilarating while it lasts, yet ever fleeting. He is a transient wanderer, and there is no return to normality. He has forged his own normality. Dodd has tried, with the Cause, but it will always be apocryphal. And so he says to Freddie:

"Free winds and no tyranny for you, Freddie, sailor of the seas. You pay no rent, free to go where you please. Then go, go to that landless latitude and good luck. If you figure a way to live without serving a master, any master, then let the rest of us know, will you? For you'd be the first in the history of the world."

11. There is another aspect of the film that insists upon Dodd's role as servant, rather than 'master'. While Dodd is the founder and leader of his acolytes, his wife Peggy can be seen as the driving force behind his ambition. In one scene, she confronts him in the bathroom, ordering him to 'stop drinking that boy's liquor' as she aggressively brings him to sexual climax, essentially chastising this seemingly powerful and unimpeachable figure like a small boy. Throughout the film, she attempts to convince Dodd to release Quell from the movement, repeatedly stating that he isn't interested in bettering himself. At one point she tells Quell directly: 'This is something you do for a billion years or not at all. This isn't fashion.' Throughout, as our belief in Dodd begins to wane, Peggy becomes the ideological focal point of the movie; she, not Dodd, believes totally in 'The Cause'. She is the personification of dogmatic faith in Dodd's movement, impelling him onwards when he might otherwise have fallen. In Dodd there is more Freddie than she would care to admit; we hear of his womanizing, his ex-wifes, and witness his love of alcohol. Another character unchanged by the film's climax, she remains the cold, hard face of monomania, refusing Freddie even the basic kindness of acknowledging his service and place within the Cause, walking out on him forever. 

15. So, is The Master a chronicle of the inadequacy of truth? Is it an allegory? I think not. It may be more of a fable, and it is certainly the fable of the long-sought-after American Dream, of two men seeking it, maybe finding it in each other, or beyond each other. 

This is my interpretation. There are many others. This is what makes great cinema. Comments welcome.

Some random observations:

Peggy is pregnant throughout the entirety of the film, until the end, when The Cause can be seen to have 'gone global'. As something of a mother figure to the enterprise, the pregnancy itself could be viewed as the gestation period of the movement, and Freddie a kind of wandering Messiah, the physical product of this phantom pregnancy. When the Cause is truly born, she is no longer pregnant. Thus she is the mother of the Cause, physically, and emotionally.

The boat that Freddie breaks into and meets Dodd is called The Alethia. In philosophy, alethia means 'the state of not being hidden, the state of being evident', or the 'understanding of truth'. Quell boarding the vessel of Dodd's truth is obviously mirrored in the plot of the film, and is perhaps a literal physical representation of his entering Dodd's consciousness, or perhaps the amalgamation of the two consciousnesses. Either way, it's interesting.

One of the biggest influences on the film was John Huston's Let There Be Light, a study of emotionally debilitated soldiers following WW2. Quell repeats several lines from the film during his psychiatric evaluation scene, including the line, "I believe, in your profession, it's called nostalgia." 

At the very end of the film, during the scene with Freddie and the girl in bed, Freddie's shadow can clearly be seen forming a Rorschach image on the wall.