Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master

I've been in the habit recently of streaming a big Hollywood film ever Saturday evening. As long as that continues I might as well post Sunday morning what I've seen. Last night was the best movie of the lot -- better than Sam Mendes' 007; better than Ben Affleck's Oscar-winning Argo; better than Robert Zemeckis' Denzel drama. It was Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master.

The Master is a period piece set in post-war America about an L. Ron Hubbard-type character, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman (a regular in Anderson's films), and his relationship to a fucked-up, drunk veteran, played by Joaquin Phoenix. The movie looks great; it captures the vibe of the time. All the performances are great; not just Phoenix and Hoffman, but also Amy Adams and Laura Dern. Most importantly The Master is filled with ambiguity (something rarely delivered up by a big Hollywood picture). The final two scenes are wonderful, sumptuous, loving celebrations of the ambiguous (a.k.a., Life).

Last year around this time I checked out Magnolia from the library. I hadn't seen it since the sunny days of the old millennium. I was so impressed with its portrait of familial dysfunction that I purchased a copy online and mailed it to my sister. Paul Thomas Anderson is the real deal. Good for all of us that he's only 42. We've got decades of top-notch film to look forward to.