Movie Review: Inherent Vice
It took Orson Welles' creative brilliance to reprise Kafka's genius in ‘The Trial’, on screen (hough I still think he took too many liberties). It required Kubrick's nous to capture Nabokov's artistry in Lolita, on film. Perhaps it is just that Paul Thomas Anderson is the one who brings you a filmic rendition of Pynchon’s Inherent Vice.
Inherent Vice might not be the best movie released in January -- you have Selma and Still Alice for it. It doesn't rank up in Anderson's best either. Despite that, it is still an enigmatic, ambitious little marvel; but nothing more than that. ‘Vice’ appears to be incoherent, a movie built around its milieu -- a laid-back LA comedy which meanders wishfully (intentionally too) and displays drug abuse that would put 21st century hipsters to shame. The plot is a dreamlike discourse rendering the movie an intoxicated, stoned shadow-like figure. A venture where drugs, sex, drugs, hipsters, rock and roll, a farcical investigation and yes, drugs -- are deployed with near-perfection to showcase the American counterculture of the 70s. A culture where the bureaucracy, the people, the capitalistic society break down, debilitate with time, mainly because of the fundamental innate instability they've always carried.
A private investigator Doc (Joaquin Phoenix) who is in search of his ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay (Katherine Westerson) is confronted by an LAPD Cop-Bigfoot (Brolin), a drug cartel, a pedophilic dentist, a saxophonist and his wife (stoners, obviously), a neo-Nazi fanatic, FBI, and peripheral personages who yield little to the investigation. The movie's pace, being slow initially, maintains itself and never quite picks up- often making you wonder if it is perpetually stoned , and wish that it doesn't recover. Phoenix and Brolin share a chemistry that often exalts their emotions over investigative reason. They play out characters who are scarred and never seem to acknowledge their vices. Where Bigfoot vents out his frustration on Doc with repeated abuses, Doc seems to bear it with empathy and seeks recluse in the form of weed. Their relationship is complex, and the scenes they share are possibly the most in- depth caricatures offered by 'Vice'.
Doc and Shasta, though, share a less romantic and emotional relationship. For two people who are always on dope, they seem to complement each other and look at the other as a constant part of their lives, always returning to each other. Where Doc is emotionally naked- Shasta is perplexing, mysterious and gives you nothing. The plot condescendingly eschews uncomfortable questions- seems numb, uninterested and forever grooving out on an overdose of weed.
It might appear to be a lackadaisical affair on the outset, comprising themes and characters that often leave you dazed and confused. But the beauty of 'Inherent Vice' is its unpretentiousness, its willful deconstruction where impressing or overwhelming the viewer is the least of its worries. 'Vice' breathes an air of indifference, employs a masterful screenplay by Anderson, mixes a groovy score featuring Neil Young, and offers you a psychedelic trip with subtle jokes, innuendoes, and a comical brilliance accompanied by emotional undertones which only Anderson could dish out.
Chekhov once famously quoted, "If a pistol appears in a story, eventually it’s got to be fired". He believed that what doesn't play a role shouldn't exist. 'Inherent Vice' loses this notion in a haze of marijuana, creating an atmosphere of psychedelic sensation which closely follows Doc everywhere. What Anderson has managed to do is recreate a stoner's perception as a visual tool for the viewer to live in a Pynchon Novel, experience LA when it was a garden of hippies and drugs. Phoenix, with his broad smile and starry eyes, pulls off the role of a detective with problems (?) of substance abuse flawlessly. That Phoenix and Anderson are on the same wavelength is pretty evident, and his role reaffirms his credentials as a seducing performer after beauties like 'Her' and 'The Master'. The third person narrative offered by Doc's associate Sortilège (Joanna Newsom), engendered in the midst of Doc's hippie lifestyle, provides a vestige of tenderness to 'Vice'- a feminine serenity that had been missing in the movie.
'Inherent Vice' lacks a form of composition and comprehensibility you'd associate from most movies -- to use the word 'lack' in its unbiased, impassive, quantitative form. Like I said, the movie is on substance, and all you can do is watch as it stumbles around its altered state of consciousness. It provides an ebullience, which to be fully appreciated requires the holistic devotion Anderson desires from his audience. So, if you're expecting to watch an uncomplicated neat movie with an engaging plot -- don't bother wasting your time. If you're willing to witness a challenge taken by a gifted filmmaker, experience a touch of cinematic exhilaration, watch how Pynchon's realism conforms the idea of beauty, catch 'Inherent Vice.'