REVIEW: Licorice Pizza

Paul Thomas Anderson is a director who basically needs no introduction at this point. From his American epics like There Will be Blood and The Master to more recent and adventurous projects like Inherent Vice and Phantom Thread, he's been one of the most consistently inventive American filmmakers since his debut, but it never feels like he's really left the San Fernando Valley. Anderson's birthplace is the setting for his twin masterpieces, Magnolia and Boogie Nights, and in many ways his newest film, Licorice Pizza, feels like something of a homecoming. One one level, he's literally returning to the time and place he grew up in as he follows his heartsick hero around the Valley in the 70s, but the clearest indication that he's going back to his roots really comes from the film's style, which is a total return to the sweeping, ensemble-driven and more colourful storytelling that he made his name with

A criticism often levelled at his early work was its excessive borrowing from the playbook of Robert Altman, but the first thing that's clear about Licorice Pizza is how unique to PTA that the film feels. He's no longer the young firebrand who made Boogie Nights, and the experience he has accumulated in the meantime is clear from the off. The formal tricks he's picked up from his last few films really help this to feel like a more accomplished take on the world he wanted to capture in his early work, but it also runs a lot deeper than the film's style. In many ways, it feels like 2021 PTA revisiting the Anderson of the early 90s, tapping back into the reservoir of energy that made those films pop by looking at them with the eyes of the master filmmaker he's grown into. The result of this is the feeling that this story isn't being told, but remembered, and it's here where the film really finds its magic

The lighter plot leaves much more room for Anderson to focus on creating a palpable atmosphere within which he can spin a series of largely episodic yarns, but the way he glides between each of them is peak PTA magic. It wouldn't be entirely fair to call Licorice Pizza "plotless", but the narrative is loose enough to fit in huge chunks of San Fernando mythos in a way that's so elegant that oftentimes it feels nearly accidental. Gary Valentine's schemes are massively entertaining plot threads in themselves, and Anderson is smart enough to know how to use them as jumping off-points to get Gary and Alana to parts of the Valley that they might not have been able to access organically, and it's here where Anderson really begins to make use of his ensemble. Sean Penn's rambunctious ageing actor provides chaotic fun, while Benny Safdie's mayoral candidate signals the shift from early-70s innocence to mid-70s paranoia, but the standout chapter is unequivocally the sequence involving Bradley Cooper's harebrained take on celebrity hairdresser Jon Peters. It's an electric 20-odd minute episode that instantly brings to mind the sort of unpredictable danger that Alfred Molina brought to Boogie Nights, but with enough levity and flow so that it doesn't feel like he's completely retracing his steps, but looking back to his own filmmaking past to find something new and exciting

But it's hard to talk about the performances here without singling out Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim, and it's absolutely mind-blowing to think that this film marks both of their screen debuts. Haim is as outstanding as advertised, perfectly navigating the messiness that comes with being a perpetually confused twenty-something, and the way she leans into the childishness and selfishness of a woman who should know better while keeping the audience onside is nothing short of staggering. Hoffman is equally excellent, echoing the career best work his father did with Anderson while avoiding the weight that comes with what you might call a "legacy performance". No, the character of Gary Valentine is completely his from the start, fully embodying the naïve wisdom of an old head on young shoulders and convincing us to follow him through his strangest schemes. Together, they're absolute dynamite, and the film addresses the much-discussed age gap with real elegance, playing Gary's innocence off of Alana's poor judgement at all times and steering it away from the grotfest that it otherwise could have been

Not to say that it's entirely seamless, and if I had to pinpoint one thing that didn't quite gel for me, it's the running joke with John Michael Higgins and his Japanese wives. Anderson's intent is clear and it's obvious that Higgins is the butt of the joke, but it grinds the effortless pace of the film to a halt whenever it crops up, which thankfully isn't that often. Personally I think it can be chalked up to being an underbaked gag that really should have been addressed from a different angle, but it's a minor enough joke that it never felt like a dealbreaker for me either, though I would understand if it brought the experience down for other viewers. Anderson's sense of humour isn't quite as dark here as it is in his more dramatic films, instead using it to sharpen the hazy sheen of his gorgeously drawn world. Those who favour his more intense character studies may struggle slightly with how relaxed this film feels, but as someone who cut their film-geek teeth on Boogie Nights and Magnolia, I felt right at home

The blend of the very laid-back storytelling with the intense emotion of the coming-of-age plot is always spot-on, and Anderson fills the film with as much depth and detail as his more thematically charged works, which really helps root it into his filmography despite the much lighter tone. Nostalgia is very much the order of the day here but the film never feels like it gets lost in the romance of the past either: this is very much a film about what we find when we look back, and I think the personal touch that PTA gives is fully bolstered by the metatextual quality of the casting. From his own family to the entire Haim clan and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it turn from John C. Reilly and of course Cooper Hoffman as the lead, Licorice Pizza really feels like a love letter to the people who made him, both personally and professionally. It's the warmest and kindest he's been since Punch Drunk Love but his absolute mastery of his craft is also just massively apparent, and I think the result is a film that has its cake and eats it too, succeeding in just about every possible area it could

Obviously the mileage of other people may vary, and what were nitpicks for me might be more significant issues for others, but I think Paul Thomas Anderson has absolutely perfected the art of the hangout movie, telling a very intricate story full of moving pieces while never making it look any less than totally effortless, so for that reason, I'm going to go ahead and give Licorice Pizza full marks. This gets a 10/10 from me, no doubt about it