The new black

PT Anderson crafts another cinematic milestone with ‘Inherent Vice’

Paul Thomas Anderson is a god of homage and reinvention. I’ve always found shades of Scorsese and Altman bubbling underneath his superb film craft—the way he cuts to the music in “Boogie Nights,” which itself has the vibe of “Goodfellas” set in the porn world, and his use of ensemble and narrative complexities evoking Altman’s “Short Cuts.” But Anderson alone weaves these influences into singular, signature masterworks.

With his latest, “Inherent Vice,” Anderson takes something of a left turn from his opaque and Kubrickian “The Master,” back to the familiar waters of Altman-tinged idiosyncrasy. He adapts Thomas Pynchon’s noir homage to The Long Goodbye into a hypnotic, funny and vibrant mélange—and a landmark of modern American cinema.

Synopsizing the plot defies the point, but here’s the nutshell: Joaquin Phoenix’s Doc, a perpetually stoned private investigator in 1970 Los Angeles, takes on a case brought to him by a beautiful ex-girlfriend, Shasta (Katherine Waterston). Her married lover (Eric Roberts), a real estate magnate, has been sent to a sanitarium by his wife after he gets the delusional idea that people should be able to live rent-free. Doc—still carrying somewhat of a torch for Shasta—finds himself pulled along by her siren charms. At least that’s where it starts out, but true to noir form, complications wait in the shadows, red herrings litter the path and nothing is quite what it seems.

“Inherent Vice” comes off as almost mainstream compared to the narrative and thematic subtleties of “The Master.” Almost. Anderson has little interest in tying up any (and by that I mean most) loose ends, and though nothing about the plot is particularly unclear, it is sketched with a light hand, flowing into myriad tributaries that likely never meet again. But, as the saying goes, it’s about the journey, not the destination—and it’s a gorgeous ride. 

Anderson masterfully distills Pynchon’s prose (and is the first director to do so on screen) through whimsical narration, stunning visual panache, expertly calibrated performances and a score from Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood that anachronistically mirrors the dripping atmosphere. “Inherent Vice” strikes a seemingly effortless balance between the unfolding mystery, forlorn love story and pleasing notes of slapstick stoner comedy. Anderson infuses the film with nods to Altman’s “Goodbye” and hat-tips to “The Big Lebowski,” yet creates his own world, unique unto itself. 

Phoenix is a natural as Doc. His shaggy, Jim Morrison-esque looks and hazy, laid-back demeanor are a hilarious counterpoint to Josh Brolin’s Detective “Bigfoot” Bjornsen, a stick-up-his-ass, walking civil rights violation who becomes Doc’s unlikely partner. Meanwhile, Waterston is ethereal and nearly haunting as Shasta—perhaps most of all because she seems captured in a place in time instead of imitating being in one. Martin Short steals just about every scene he’s in as a coked-out dentist that might or might not hold the key to Doc’s investigation. Benicio del Toro delightfully plays Doc’s not-so-Gonzo lawyer, Sauncho Smilax, and Owen Wilson pops in from time to time, more or less being himself as Coy Harlingen, an undercover cop who’s too deep into his job. Time will judge that casting decision accordingly.  

“Inherent Vice” is convoluted (what great noir isn’t?) and sometimes confounding, but it’s also powerfully magnetic. Its gravitational force ensures our inevitable return—as if you can already see that it’s something we’ll still be watching in 50 years, marveling at how much better movies used to be. a

“Inherent Vice” opens everywhere Jan. 9. 

For more from Joe, check out his reviews of "The Interview," "Birdman" and Louis C.K.'s "Tomorrow Night."