I think this is the first film I equally love and hate at the same time. I completely understand where people from both sides come from when analyzing this movie on a purely story-based level. Stylistically the film is flawless and a complete masterpiece of literal movie-making. I'll discuss the theoretically problematic story elements in a bit, but first I'd rather praise the production of the film itself.
On the big screen it looks fantastic, but in mostly unexpected ways. Anderson shot the film on 65 mm and it's being shown on some screens in an even larger and more detailed 70 mm. This is the first 65 mm film since Kenneth Branagh's lush and grand production of the fully-adapted Hamlet. I expected gargantuan scenes in the style of traditional and old-fashioned Technicolor epics of the 50's and 60's. Instead there's a surprising number of sequences shot in fairly closed off and intimate locations- fairly routine looking houses and the innards of a small cruise ship. But the cinematography works well in emphasizing one of the supposed primary themes of the film- larger than life concepts and ideas being conveyed, imagined, and manipulated by small-minded men. The entire film feels extraordinarily overly-intimate, many shots are cramped and filled with large numbers of people, but the puffiness and hot air that Dodd injects into his false sermons and speeches fill these close quarters, making many scenes feel oddly tense and fever-pitched. Ultimately, however, as the story carries on and Freddie makes the all too obvious realization that Dodd is a complete manipulator one recognizes the utter emptiness of everyone's surroundings. The rooms and even outdoor locations, though physically large and imposing, are really devoid of the grandeur and massiveness that was initially expected by the audience and some of the main characters.
The acting is stupendous and fairly overwhelming at times. A scene towards the middle of the film features both Dodd and Freddie basically just shouting slurs at each other, in a lesser movie, this sequence would have come across as excessive and only there to bolster the ACTING of one of the leads, (Daniel Day Lewis was a little guilty of this in There Will Be Blood once or twice I felt), but both Phoenix and Hoffman inject the simplistic writing (I mean they are just swearing at each other) with a such a strange and hypnotic fury that it is utterly terrifying and wonderfully compelling. It's one of the few times I've actually, literally felt anger coming off the screen. There are too many moments to count of Phoenix creating such unique movements and gestures and facial contortions that exaggerate perfectly the near insanity and inhumanity of Freddie and though Hoffman always excels at creating such disturbingly disgusting and unctuous men filled with pompous self-importance, this time he creates an incredibly quiet and subtle undercurrent of fear and poignant unintelligence that Dodd most certainly has (his last scene, where he sings to Freddie, is so perfectly odd and sad and angry...). And finally dear, sweet Amy Adams. What has Anderson done to you? I've only ever really seen her in fairly routine and innocent roles of still relatively strong and independent women (Sister James in Doubt). This time she is kind of horrifying in a Kathy Bates in Misery kind of way. She doesn't do much in terms of action, but at times she exudes such a sense of dread and fear in the audience that even I, strong-willed as I am, had to turn from the screen for just a second to gather my senses. It's such an unexpected role for her to take, and I commend her for it. She matches Hoffman no less in terms of gross and inexplicable disgust. Finally, Rami Malek, the ridiculously creepy but not overly so, actor of The Pacific and other less reputable films (cough-Twilight-cough), for me, proves his legitimate acting chops in a small, but very unsettling role. He's got a definite Christopher Walken vibe to his performances and I think he's someone to watch.
The score by Jonny Greenwood is equal to his for There Will Be Blood and at times has the same semi-problem that Blood had- it gets overused. But this time I'm willing to argue in favor of its near absurd bombast and quirky sound effects filled tunes. In the same style of the cinematography, the music is so overwhelming at times that it essentially rules, and in some ways ruins completely, the drama of a scene, but, like the cinematography, this is usually to the benefit of the pompousness of Dodd and The Cause. It frequently contrasts sharply with the image on screen, but does so on purpose, I think, once again it is conveying the notion of surface-level enormity; enormity that really has an empty core. There is also the Kubrick touch of including quiet and pretty, but also disconcerting, period songs.
I don't usually notice editing techniques all that often. That's not to say they're not important, they do, after all, make or break a film, often quite literally. But I do tend to immerse myself so much in the story of a movie that I can ignore the other necessary components of that film. Also, if editing is done right, it tends to not strictly draw attention to itself, it becomes such a fluidic part of the movie that the majority of people will overlook it. This is why I usually don't like the hyper fast editing techniques of the Bourne movies or Michael Bay, it's almost always there in those instances to draw attention to itself. This movie, especially in the first twenty minutes or so, is edited in such a unique manner that it does technically draw attention to itself, but not necessarily in an overt manner, and this time the sped up style emphasizes the immediacy of the action. Freddie can't stay still before meeting Dodd and so neither can the film. He lingers only very briefly over one idea or location or job before he restlessly decides to move on elsewhere, searching for meaning and someone to give him much needed guidance.
Now...
What in the hell was it all about?
I honestly don't know.
But I'm comfortable with that. Completely.
Up until yesterday I had never seen a true Kubrick film on the big screen. I'm excluding AI b/c it's only kind of a Kubrick film. After seeing The Master, I felt like I had just seen Barry Lyndon or Eyes Wide Shut. The meaning of the film is almost completely irrelevant, or at the very least, it exists, but is so well buried under subtext and mis-direction that it seems invisible.
As with any Kubrick film, I feel as though this movie is completely unaffected by the multitude of different interpretations that can be culled from it by various audience members. It can essentially be whatever you want it to be despite there being solidified images and characters and events. Kubrick films, for me, operate on the level of literally gazing through the looking glass- there's the strange distorted images that may or may not be real, but there's also, and more importantly, I feel, a slight reflection of the self. The thing I love about Kubrick especially is that he appreciated that film itself is ultimately a completely person and self-centered art-form and concept. It's all about what I think and feel, everyone else's opinions and ideas exist with mine but they aren't precisely mine and often they are the opposite of mine. I think The Master is filled with meaning on the level of simple subject matter- that of cults and religion, but also in terms of character and humanity- how misled people often find themselves in each other's company despite how they are often complete opposites. Dodd and Freddie essentially seek one another in the story and they do so frequently. Dodd and Freddie also need one another despite the utter loathing they have for one another (and that hate exists for a variety of reasons). That's what I think of The Master, at least in a very general way. Now, someone else can completely disagree with me- they might think it is only about cults and religion and that the characters are archetypal figures that exist only at the whim of the story itself, or someone else, and I know this applies to many people right now, may think the entire film is a dull exercise in overly simplistic themes that are hammered home again and again without rhyme, reason, purpose, or genuine original style, that the whole movie is an endless ego-filled trip for the now pretentious Anderson. This is the movie that quintessentially defines the concept of how different pieces of art can be interpreted by different people in different ways and on different levels.
I said I both love and hate the movie. This is essentially true. I love all of the concepts and ideas and characters and dialogue that Anderson creates in this film. But in terms of likable quality, the movie is almost utterly repugnant. There are no real redeeming factors for any of the characters. They are hideously unlikable people and are very difficult to connect to on an emotional level. This movie is, in effect, a complete train wreck of character moments and feelings- everyone feels near inhuman. But none of this contempt on my part makes me really hate the film, in fact this occurrence happens fairly frequently for me. The majority of the cynical movies I purport to love and adore and praise, are filled with characters like this. The primary difference, and the one that I feel essentially undermines the genuine emotional appeal of the movie, is that Anderson doesn't give his characters distinct context or moments to breathe. It's the same issue I take with A Clockwork Orange and There Will Be Blood, the leads are so hateful and revolting, it nearly destroys the connection one can have with them. They are compelling and interesting to watch in only a nihilistic and naturally fascinating manner. Ultimately they lack the human emotions that can make me comprehend why they are the way they are and why I should care. The cold emotional detachment worked better for Kubrick because he wasn't strictly caught up in understanding the characters of his movies. He was much more interested in putting them through the ringer, watching the results, or in basic story-level conflict. Think of Barry Lyndon again, is the main character all that interesting or likable? Not really. But the tone of the film is utterly satirical and focuses on depicting the literal and quirky life of Lyndon rather than on the dramatic movements and changes Lyndon goes through (or doesn't). The inherent weakness of Anderson's work with Blood and The Master is that he is instinctively more interested in character than story with these pieces whereas with Magnolia and Boogie Nights and to lesser degrees Punch Drunk Love and Hard Eight he was interested in structure and story, and when he examined character in all of those films, it was under a kinder and larger microscope that saw them within the context of more complicated plots. Anderson's knee jerk reaction is to go for the character drama in Blood and The Master, if he pulled back more and examined these lives in a different and larger framework it probably would've worked better. He is evolving and I'm glad he doesn't stay in one place for too long, but it is evident in both The Master and Blood that he's in a transitional period trying to find firmer footing.
Basically I saw The Master as an examination of two men, one completely misguided and lost in his life, the other with a stronger grasp of reality also lost, but he with the more human reaction attempts to grasp for meaning for something that will unify and bring people to him. He is sad and lonely and seeks someone to work for him. Neither man would ever outwardly admit these weaknesses. Dodd set out at some point in the past to find fellow misguided people who could flock to him in his efforts to find a common goal for humanity in general. But Dodd is, I think, an unintelligent fool, he may have some limited book smarts and knows people as a car salesman might, but his intentions are self-centered and he's corrupt with the power that he has developed over his wife and children and followers. He doesn't buy for a second the crap that he sells, but he sells it well, he speaks eloquently, but when taken apart, as with his sequel book, his words are meaningless and confused and contradictory. When Freddie comes upon him he sees a chance to convert another fool to his way of thinking, but Freddie is, ironically, an incredibly perceptive man, but one who is constantly undermined by his vices and weaknesses of imbibing grotesque spirits. He believes he knows what he wants and though he eventually more or less convinces himself to follow Dodd and his teachings, there are extraordinary doubts, questions that burst out in bouts of extreme violence against the men who foreshadow and remind him of Dodd. But the extremely intimate relationship that both Dodd and Freddie share (is it a gay love? a platonic appreciation of attitudes and actions?) is what leads them both to their constant clashes and Dodd's eventual betrayal of Freddie. And it is Dodd that essentially betrays Freddie when the latter finally recognizes the former's lies and manipulations with The Cause, he begins to loathe that a man who said he could help him turns out to be little more than a fearful nobody like the married Dodd-lookalike from the early scene at Freddie's photography section at the department store. Though Freddie is lost and frequently unwilling to be put under physical restraint (think of the jail cell scene or the implications of Freddie's insistence that the wall is just a wall and the window is just a window when Dodd and his cohorts begin inducting him into The Cause) he also knows the basics of what he wants and what he doesn't want- he does have a central moral compass despite the many limitations he puts on it with his vices.
Freddie's involvement with Dodd and The Cause are necessary events for his growth as a human being. He personally recognizes that he can move on from his past life (whatever it was- it's implied that he was probably a brutal monster with the Japanese during the war) in a literal sense. There's a true irony when he realizes how late he is in meeting up with Doris after all these years of apprehension and waiting. And when the path he wants to go down is sadly closed off by those ironic circumstances, Freddie tries to return to the one man who gave him a sense of guidance. Except Dodd essentially refuses Freddie and turns him away (along with some creepily delivered lines from Amy Adams) for 'betraying' The Cause. Dodd is willing to present an 'ultimatum' to Freddie (it can be read that this is Dodd's desperate attempt to latch onto and remain with the one man who might be able to understand and connect naturally with him and his lost ways), but Freddie refuses. He returns to life in the outside world and his old ways of boozing it up and making it with the ladies, and although it is kept enormously vague and ambiguous as to whether or not he has fundamentally changed in attitude and outlook and is merely recognizing that the life he leads is an adequate but imperfect one for him, I personally find there to be a happy twist that whereas before Freddie laid down with the naked sand-lady and fucked her as a natural human function, only this time he is content to have sex with an actual woman beforehand and then just lie down with the sand-lady and, most importantly, smile.
PS: The scientology connections are next to non-existent and pretty irrelevant to the overall story.
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