Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Tom Cruise, Jason Robards, John C. Reilly, William H. Macy, Julianne Moore, Philip Baker Hall
Magnolia is such an amalgam of brilliance and self-indulgent crap that the dramedy may go down in history as one of the most impossible films to critique. Simultaneously sophomoric and sophisticated, richly metaphoric and muddled, an hour too long and yet, somehow, incomplete -- Magnolia addresses a dozen different themes via the perspectives of its dozen different characters. I guess you could safely say that, as with Anderson's Boogie Nights, Magnolia primarily concerns itself with family -- with its primordial ties, which can choke the life force out of any one of us. The film speaks to the lasting effects of familial relations -- the power of blame, flight and forgiveness, and the possibilities for transcendence offered by these emotional choices. In addition, Magnolia is about the interconnected web of life ... and about sex, lies, game shows, chance and volition. Magnolia also expounds on the damage caused by child abuse, loneliness, spiritual frailty and frogs (yes, frogs). And, finally, the film evolves into a surreal meditation on the brutality of life -- and those unexpected moments that can occur in the midst of such brutality, and manage to usher in just enough joy for us to, somehow, recognize the perfection of it all. But, pulling up from the mire of Magnolia's multitude of messages, the film is most impressive when seen as a framework holding a host of amazing ensemble performances -- most notably that of Tom Cruise, who, perhaps, delivers the most sizzling work of his career. A candidate this year for a Golden Globe Award for his role in Magnolia, Cruise is truly magnetic as T.J. Mackey, an evangelist whose audience is made up of archetypally disempowered males. As the writer of the best-selling Seduce and Destroy, Mackey is the quintessential misogynist, a walking erection in search of a warm female to abuse. Mackey counsels banquet-hall rooms of men to "respect the cock," while, concurrently, his ex-TV-producer father, Earl Partridge (Jason Robards) is moments away from the grave. And although Partridge is dutifully attended by a nurse and his beautiful trophy wife (the ever-wonderful Philip Seymour Hoffman and Julianne Moore, respectively), Partridge is fending off the jaws of death until he can see his estranged son one last time. Meanwhile, across town, one of Partridge's TV game-show hosts (Philip Baker Hall) is also dying of cancer and grieving over being rejected by his cokehead daughter (Melora Walters), who has recently met up with a hapless L.A. cop (John C. Reilly) ... and, as a result, just might have a chance at real happiness. On and on, Anderson's characters unfold, some more fleshed-out than others. And if you are thoroughly confused by what writer/director Anderson might be trying to say, I guess you could sum up Magnolia's message by its signature remark: "You can let go of the past, but the past ain't never gonna let go of you."
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