Inherent Vice

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice is one of the most unapologetically bizarre studio films I’ve ever seen. Make no mistake, this film, which is currently being distributed by Warner Bros., is batshit bonkers. The story is consistently nonsensical, the characters often get so caught up with what they’re saying, they end up mumbling sentences just ‘cause, subplots are introduced and developed, before vanishing without warning, and on and on. Inherent Vice maintains this behavior throughout its two and a half hour running time. It’s a maddeningly complex film that cares to explain nothing. Which is precisely why it might be brilliant.

The logline for the film, adapted from Thomas Pynchon’s novel (unread by me) is simple: a drug-fueled private investigator named Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) is visited by his former lover, Shasta (Katherine Waterson), who informs Doc that her current boyfriend might soon be kidnapped. As a favor, Shasta asks Doc to do what he can to gather more information about the would-be disappearance. Simple enough.

Well, for starters (and believe me, we’re just getting started here), Shasta’s boyfriend isn’t all hers. In fact, he’s a shady real estate mogul named Mickey Wolfmann who is married to a dame who may be responsible for his disappearance. In order to find Mickey, Doc must track down some seriously strange characters. Every new acquaintance introduces Doc to a fresh set of problems. Here’s an example: shortly into the film, Doc takes on another case, from ex-junkie Hope Harlingen (Jena Malone). Hope wants Doc to find out if her saxophone-playing husband, Coy (Owen Wilson), is in fact dead, as has been reported. When Doc finds Coy, the first thing Coy asks of Doc is to track down his wife, Hope, just to check in on her and make sure she’s all right. For whatever reason, Doc fails to tell Coy that he’s already met with Hope, and that she is in fact the one who hired Doc to look for Coy. Oh, and it turns out that Coy happens to have some information about this Wolfmann guy. Round and round we go.

That’s just a taste of the meandering style of Inherent Vice. I can’t even begin to explain how Doc’s occasional hook-up, a proper attorney named Penny (Reese Witherspoon), a Black Panther-ish cat (Michael K. Williams), Doc’s zany lawyer (Benicio Del Toro), a coke-loving doctor (Martin Short), and many more weave their way into the story. Nor, after just one viewing, do I have the ability to adequately explain how an entity called the Golden Fang, Richard Nixon’s campaign, and the Aryan Brotherhood all play into the film. The most prominent supporting character is a flat-top cop named Det. Christian “Bigfoot” Bjornsen. Bigfoot hates hippies like Doc, and goes out of his way to make their lives a living hell, which is why Doc and Bigfoot seem to hate each other about as much as they love each other.

So here’s the thing. It might seem like I’m trying to make this review purposefully confusing. So far, it could very well read as a poor attempt at opaque, snarky humor. The movie’s confusing, so my review will be too!. Trust me, that is not my intention. I’ve spent the last few days racking my brain about Inherent Vice, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no easy or clear way to present the information laid out in the film.

If you see Inherent Vice for its performances, then I promise you won’t be let down. Joaquin Phoenix is a performer chiefly concerned with never playing the same part twice, of which his Doc is perfect evidence. There isn’t a shred of Freddie Quell or Theodore Twombly or Bruno Weiss find within Doc. Through Doc, Phoenix embodies a Yeah man, whatever persona that is consistently hilarious. Brolin too is excellent as the tight-assed Bigfoot, brooding and shuffling around, chewing every possible scene beyond recognition. But the real star here is Katherine Waterson, whose bright eyes and effortless innocence manage to steal every scene she’s in. I’ve seen a plenty of movies that have featured Waterson, but I’m having trouble remembering her in any of them. This will no longer be the case.

To arrive at my main point. Inherent Vice is an infuriatingly complicated film that enjoys being an infuriatingly complicated film. It doesn’t explain things, because it doesn’t give a shit about explaining things. It’s so unapologetic in its execution, that I’m actually forced to admire it. Despite being wildly popular, Paul Thomas Anderson does not make easy films. They may be entertaining and compelling, but they are far from ordinary. In that regard, it’s easy to identify Inherent Vice as a Paul Thomas Anderson film. But to be clear: the tone, style, and execution of Inherent Vice is unlike anything Anderson has ever made. Those expecting Inherent Vice to be a return to the fast and furious ‘70s Los Angeles drug world of Boogie Nights will be sorely let down. As will those pining for another meditative character study like The Master. Inherent Vice is a film that defies simple classification. But it is a movie that demands, and deserves, reflection. If I wrote this review the night I saw the film, I’d likely be panning it. In many ways, the film simply didn’t click for me. But in the days since watching Inherent Vice, I’ve realized that it doesn’t intend to click. And that, like it or not, is part of its charm.

One of the first things I said upon leaving the theater with my friend is that Inherent Vice is the kind of movie you have to see again (and again) in order to “get it.” Problem is, at that point, I had no interest in seeing it again. That was three days ago. Now, I can’t wait to sit down and let the world of this film wash over me again. B+

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