The Master

Once again, Paul Thomas Anderson has made a flawed work of genius. Freddie Quell is a WWII vet, psychologically damaged before he even went to war and currently spends his time drinking solvents and cleaners during and between various jobs. He stumbles upon "the master's" (Lancaster Dodd's) vessel before it embarks upon a seafaring, brain-washing voy-ahj. Lancaster Dodd is to L. Ron Hubbard as Charles Foster Kane is to William Randolph Hearst.

"The Master" has a great premise, brilliant cinematography, and acting performances for the ages. It also has surprisingly good pacing for a movie that my friend Shawn accurately described as having "no plot, I mean NO plot."

The flaw is that I don't ever get a connection with the characters. I never truly felt why Lancaster Dodd and Freddie Quell need each other. I suppose Freddie seems to benefit by having a direction for awhile, but the whole thing is so ambiguous that it's hard to tell.

Quell, played by Joaquin Phoenix, and Dodd, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, have an early scene for the ages wherein Dodd engages Quell in "informal processing," which involves an interrogation apparently designed to confront the person being processed rapidly and quickly before delusion can set in so that the subject comes to some truth about him/herself. Amy Adams also gives an amazing performance as Dodd's wife, Peggy.

This movie's strong points make it hard to fault this movie. My brain was excited at the end, yet this was betrayed by the involuntary shoulder shrug that occurred as I relieved myself in the theater bathroom, focusing on one point in the urinal.

You should see this movie. 99% of the reason is for the "informal processing scene" and 1% is to get that toilet reference (do it for me).

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