Many have stated, correctly, that Licorice Pizza is a return to form for Paul Thomas Anderson to the days of Boogie Nights and Punch-Drunk Love. He made his name telling crazy stories in the San Fernando Valley. But all that being said, Licorice Pizza doesn't feel like a retread of the past. Nobody wants to see a paint-by-numbers version of 90s PTA. If anything, this feels more like an epilogue for him in the same way that Once Upon a Time in Hollywood was for Quentin Tarantino. It's a more personalized, emotional reflection on his upbringing and his early film career.
What's more is that Licorice Pizza is a film that could have only been made by Paul Thomas Anderson. Nobody else could have told this story and made this film properly, I am sure of it. There isn't a single character in here that is a good person. Gary Valentine is an opportunistic creep and poseur. He's a stupid kid, always trying to get something over on someone, whether it be money or sex. Alana Kane is a spectacularly immature 25 year-old who would rather further her own career than choose what is morally right. She willingly entertains Gary's advances. Gary is underage. This is wrong. She knows it's wrong, and she doesn't care. How in the world are we supposed to sympathize with these two characters? In the hands of any other filmmaker, Licorice Pizza would be a catastrophe. It's a masterpiece instead. I wish I could explain why.
Just as Martin Scorsese understands the underbelly of the Italian-American experience in New York, Paul Thomas Anderson understands the lawless hellscape that is show business in Los Angeles. Everyone is out for themselves. Our rules don't apply. This is a world where people are trying to get famous by any means necessary. The world that surrounds Gary and Alana is just as shameful and ruthless as their toxic relationship. There's slimy politicians, has-been old Hollywood actors, racist restaurateurs and Jon Peters, who needs no explanation. In context, everything about Licorice Pizza makes sense. That is remarkable.
Even more remarkable is how Paul Thomas Anderson brings this film to life. It doesn't take much to recognize his graceful touch. Through every unorthodox camera angle and every line unspoken, to just a simple facial expression that the camera lingers on, Paul Thomas Anderson's mastery of the visual language continues to exist on a spiritual level. Nobody in the modern era of cinema can capture human vulnerability in the ways that he can. Every emotion is properly distilled, from rage, to fear, to sadness and to pure joy. You can relate to his characters, no matter how profoundly different they are to you. Even these characters. In my view, he is our greatest living filmmaker.
What's more is that Licorice Pizza is a film that could have only been made by Paul Thomas Anderson. Nobody else could have told this story and made this film properly, I am sure of it. There isn't a single character in here that is a good person. Gary Valentine is an opportunistic creep and poseur. He's a stupid kid, always trying to get something over on someone, whether it be money or sex. Alana Kane is a spectacularly immature 25 year-old who would rather further her own career than choose what is morally right. She willingly entertains Gary's advances. Gary is underage. This is wrong. She knows it's wrong, and she doesn't care. How in the world are we supposed to sympathize with these two characters? In the hands of any other filmmaker, Licorice Pizza would be a catastrophe. It's a masterpiece instead. I wish I could explain why.
Just as Martin Scorsese understands the underbelly of the Italian-American experience in New York, Paul Thomas Anderson understands the lawless hellscape that is show business in Los Angeles. Everyone is out for themselves. Our rules don't apply. This is a world where people are trying to get famous by any means necessary. The world that surrounds Gary and Alana is just as shameful and ruthless as their toxic relationship. There's slimy politicians, has-been old Hollywood actors, racist restaurateurs and Jon Peters, who needs no explanation. In context, everything about Licorice Pizza makes sense. That is remarkable.
Even more remarkable is how Paul Thomas Anderson brings this film to life. It doesn't take much to recognize his graceful touch. Through every unorthodox camera angle and every line unspoken, to just a simple facial expression that the camera lingers on, Paul Thomas Anderson's mastery of the visual language continues to exist on a spiritual level. Nobody in the modern era of cinema can capture human vulnerability in the ways that he can. Every emotion is properly distilled, from rage, to fear, to sadness and to pure joy. You can relate to his characters, no matter how profoundly different they are to you. Even these characters. In my view, he is our greatest living filmmaker.