#60: The Master (2012) (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

I agree with my friends who say, "I'm sure you'll change your mind in a couple years," but for now at this moment in time, this is my favorite Paul Thomas Anderson film. Read on!

Something very strange and unusual happened to me during my 5th viewing of Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master. An out-of-body experience. Right when Lancaster Dodd is staring right into the camera (see above image) having his portrait taken by Freddie, I had my own memory recall flash. Perhaps the character was processing me somehow directly from the screen. Instead of thinking of a word though, I thought of an image. It hit me hard.

The image was of Philip Seymour Hoffman standing on stage in front of the movie screen at the Music Box Theatre. He was there answering audience questions about his directorial debut, Jack Goes Boating. One of my good friends, Patrick, was one of the ones who asked him a question. I hadn’t thought about that night in a while. But suddenly, without any prompt, I saw one of my top five favorite actors standing on that same stage in the theater I was sitting in, watching The Master for the 5th time.

I actually got chills and had to close my eyes for a second to shake myself back into the movie. Why did I suddenly think about the fact that Hoffman was in this theater over a decade ago? I watched him talk to a captivated audience. He was a master of his craft, and I wish he hadn’t succumbed to addiction. Though look at how many great people we’ve lost to that disease.

Memory and the brain have always been interests of mine. We’re going on 12 years since I graduated with a psychology degree. Not to mention, dreams, cinema, distorted perceptions of reality, even a simple Rorschach test. What’s curious is that the two films I love the most by my favorite director are the ones that I didn’t really “get” on first viewing. Inherent Vice was one that I actually dismissed at first. Strangely, a viewing of that one in 35mm at the Siskel Center changed my thoughts entirely. I even said, “maybe that’s my favorite PTA after all!” The Master, I could at least appreciate and love on a lot of levels even if I wasn’t sure what it all added up to. Ebert felt the same. 

Perhaps it was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time for this latest viewing in 70mm of The Master. I have a therapist, and we often have conversations akin to processing. It can get pretty heavy as therapy is meant to be. I’ve been attempting to be in touch more with the “real” me, which includes not holding back. I’m not going to land in jail busting up and kicking any toilets soon but there has been this desire to express emotions more openly and easily. I’ve felt restrained most of my life. No more of that.

Not to mention the idea of unpacking what trauma does to a fragile human psyche is at the core of The Master right from the very first image of someone closing their eyes as they’re about to engage in battle. Freddie’s PTSD stems from love lost and being in the war, but we learn so much about him during what remains my favorite sequence in the film; this hasn’t changed since first viewing. That entire processing scene to me is why I love movies… the actors, the camerawork, the words said, the levity, I remember thinking I could watch an entire film of just processing. Honestly, look at how they act and feel after the session ends - you would’ve thought that they just had a good fuck since right after it’s over… they laugh, have a drink and smoke a cigarette.

The Master is a lot more than just about sex though. It is so much more. Upon 5th viewing, I think I love it more than Inherent Vice now. Maybe just by a hair. I’ll likely change my mind again in a couple of years regarding what is tops for me. Both films in conversation with each other and not just because of having the same lead actor. In a strange way, The Master is almost like a response, a cousin to the themes that PTA tackled in There Will Be Blood. 

That film was all about disconnection from humanity and the desire for power and control. Daniel Plainview doesn’t want intimacy or a family or to be an engaging self-help guru of sorts. He wants to “make enough money to get away from all of these… people.” The Master is about reconnection with others through impulsive sex, substance consumption and expressively communicating ideas in many forms (even if they’re made up on the spot). 

Perhaps it’s about finding a balance from within while also realizing that some connections aren’t meant to last forever, possibly because we are an imbalanced species. There is no “inherent state of perfect.” As hard as we try to feel perfect, through religion, through relationships, through orgasms and booze. And as much as we attempt to love ourselves, we often become our own sworn enemies. 

On a global scale, we are definitely at war more often than not. On an individual scale, we are often in conflict with ourselves alongside our animalistic, base desires. Society, ethics, morals keep them muted. If we didn’t, there would be pure chaos. Honestly, try walking down the streets of Chicago sometimes, you’d think it’s nothing but unrestrained chaos to a frightening degree. Freddie Quell doesn’t “quell” much of anything he feels. Dodd envies him for that.

I bet Freddie, deep down would love to find a loving marriage and lifelong connection with someone like Peggy so he is repressing his sense of longing for that throughout the story. Does envy and longing translate to some kind of impossible love between Lancaster and Freddie? Possibly, especially when you consider the final meeting they have and the song that Lancaster sings. You would’ve thought they were a couple, realizing that they’ve grown apart.

“The film deals with the not-so-latent homosexuality in Dodd. Hubbard posited that homosexuality was a “perversion” and that Scientology could help raise people out of the “low emotion” that “produces it.” There are numerous scenes in The Master that examine this, in particular Dodd’s relationship with Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix). Dodd seems to be sexually attracted to Quell’s animalistic nature, e.g. that scene where they’re wrestling with each other on the front lawn after Quell is released from prison, or the scene where Dodd’s wife, played by Amy Adams, gives him a hand job, along with a spiel about “cumming for her” and eradicating himself of negative (read: homosexual) thoughts. Oh, and doesn’t the husband of Dodd’s daughter seem rather… effete? Which explains why she, too, is attracted to Quell, who is pure testosterone.” ‐ Marlow Stern, The Daily Beast

Bob Dylan once wrote about how, “you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed. It may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody.” Dodd's one moment of truth-speaking comes when he tells Freddie, "If you figure a way to live without serving a master, let us know. You'd be the first person in the history of the world." There’s no escaping the need for love, whether as a parent or as a partner. There’s also no escaping the fact that we have to answer to someone above us. In a capitalist society, most of us have a boss or a supervisor we have to collaborate with. I get the impression this would be difficult for either Lancaster or Freddie. They want to be their own person, unshackled and free to a degree. Just in different ways than a sociopath like Daniel Plainview.

Freddie is addicted to the hedonistic pleasures of life, hence his alcoholism and fantasies about every woman he meets. During a party, he can’t help but picture every woman in the room naked and he sits in a drunken stupor. This is the id gone awry. Again, what if every time we wanted to fuck or take a substance to induce an altered state, we actually were able to? Again, no boundaries, no restraint. Then it wouldn’t be a society of order. It is interesting to compare Freddie’s raw sexuality with the other male characters in the film. The other men in the Cause are damn-near asexual. Clark and Val are both young men who might normally relate to Freddie’s sexual interest in women, but they are completely buttoned-down and as chaste as nuns.

Recently I was told by someone to “nut up,” meaning to stand up, speak out. Of course, I took it as an attack of not being “man enough.” Gross. It made me recontextualize the scene of Freddie lashing out at Lancaster’s son Val, (played by a young Jessie Plemons) to “be a man!” What if I had gone into the military? Or what if my dad was more of a disciplinarian and demanded me to fight? Would anger and assertiveness be more comfortable to express? Perhaps it’s a good thing to lash out in some cases if that’s what’s warranted.

True to form as a neutral male who doesn’t display any archetypal characteristics, Val does not react. Clark is also contrasted with Freddie during the training scene where they try to provoke a reaction from each other. Clark is calm, whereas Freddie has trouble containing his aggression. I guess The Master could also make you think of parenting in a way. Having a mother who was too expressive and a father that wasn’t expressive enough might possibly lead to feelings of uncertainty or inconsistency when it comes to releasing emotions out into the world. Modeled behavior is tricky to navigate through. Attachment becomes unorthodox and reckless.

Most people do not want to do the hard work of discovering reality as it is or changing the way they live. Most of us fall into patterns and routines that we have inherited from our parents and friends, our cultural mores and values. Most people do not think that deeply about what they do or why they do it, they go through the motions, believing themselves to be thinking actors who knowledgeably and justifiably do what they do.

This is a paradox we cannot get out of. To a certain extent, we inherit these ways of living from everyone around us. It is impossible to completely separate ourselves from them. If we were able to do that, we would suddenly stop living. In this sense, we all have masters. To live without a master is to be so radically different from those who came before you as to be almost alien.

But others will fall into line with no thought at all. It might be that their identity is so strongly tied to a single person that they will believe everything they are told by that person. For others it might be a movement, or a cause, or ideology. Human beings were not made to handle too much uncertainty, because it is impossible to live with it. It can be more comforting to forfeit your own critical thinking skills and follow along with a group, losing your sense of self in identifying with those around you - Stefan Swanson

Military general says early in the film, “There will be people on the outside who will not understand the condition you men have. Some may think it a rather shameful condition. If the average civilian had been through the same stresses that you have been through, undoubtedly, they too would develop the same nervous conditions.” Nervous condition back then likely translates to PTSD, panic attacks, anxiety disorder.

The best things in the entire world to deal with the stresses and stressors of living in reality are two things that exist in the world of this film: laughter and desire. Both stem from a need to connect. Of course there are tears too, big ones for me when Lancaster begins singing to Freddie towards the end. They both realize in that moment; they are breaking up. This is goodbye. They can’t find a balance. Also, Peggy won’t allow it. Freddie doesn’t need a master to live his life. All he needs is a beach, a drink and a woman. He doesn’t need to write books or preach a sermon to followers. He needs to laugh during sex. The last line of the film, “stick it back in, it fell out,” he says while laughing.

Like many of us, both Freddie and Lancaster are on quests which never resolve. This isn’t a story of growth and self-actualization. They’re kind of stubborn in ways that are both endearing and frustrating to watch. In a way, they were essentially leading up to a point of self-awareness. The dream Freddie has when he falls asleep inside a movie theater is a very Lynchian touch. That conversation never happened, but Freddie still goes to England and brings Lancaster the cigarettes he asked for in the dream. Honestly, the first time I saw the film I thought it actually was reality but then upon reflection, who receives a phone call inside of a movie theater like that?

I would rather watch a Paul Thomas Anderson film than a film by just about anybody and who knows why the universe has planted this kind of fandom inside my brain. I recall telling David Wain that he magically tapped into my exact sense of humor to where I find nearly everything, he’s involved with to be funny. At first glance, The Master is not a film I would say is easy to love and declare a favorite. I’ve been more partial over the years to Punch-Drunk Love and Inherent Vice. This one may not have even made my top ten the year it came out on first viewing. But a lot has happened in twelve years. Certainly, I’ve changed. With my love of psychoanalysis though, it’s funny to think that I wouldn’t have loved this movie right from the get-go since there are definite Freudian and Jungian touches throughout. The whole id, ego, superego theory may be overplayed at this time, but it’s apt here.

Perhaps I’ve also become a little less repressed but never to the point of Freddie-like behavior. There’s a part of me that wants to express myself to those will listen, much like Dodd. That’s not to dismiss what Amy Adams brings to the table in this dynamic as Peggy either since she remains one of my favorite actresses even if she hasn’t been in great films as of late. A lot can be said and written about her character too, more than just, “hey how about that hand job scene?” I’m more taken with what happens with the color of her eyes and what she says/does in the background throughout the whole film.

What Adams does through most of the film is internal, unlike the two male leads. It’s a bit sneaky - full of glances, stares and unease. It’s easy to write her work off in the same way some might write off Peggy as just being a mom, a wife, a mediator. There’s something to take away from nearly every performance and every moment in The Master, especially after you watch it a few times. Like a Rorschach painting, you might see something different as times marches on. That’s definitely the case for me.

Again, it definitely feels weird to connect so strongly with nearly every film of this director outside of Hard Eight and most of Licorice Pizza (though it has moments). These have been very emotional times as of late so maybe I was just vulnerable to the experience of seeing this in 70mm, bigger than life right before my eyes. PTA makes movies that just speak to me in ways that are akin to David Lynch - they just embed themselves into my subconscious to where I likely can’t even critique them because it feels like critiquing a part of myself. Suffice to say, the spirit of Philip Seymour Hoffman also looms large. I miss him. I wish I could’ve told him how much he’s meant to all of us.

Especially in this and Synecdoche, New York. Perhaps I’m crying during both films because of losing him so soon but I think they also just hit me in ways that can’t be processed through words in either the form of a film review or a newsletter. Perhaps if I had just seen Phantom Thread in 70mm instead, I’d be writing about that film. No matter, The Master has been declared by many to be Anderson’s masterpiece. This is the first time I am in complete agreement with everyone, including the filmmaker who made this masterpiece himself.