Jumbling
various genres in his new and quirkily touching “romantic-comedy”, writer-director
Paul Thomas Anderson knew only one solid detail before venturing to make his
fourth film. There was no plot or script yet, but one certainty remained: Adam
Sandler would star. The pairing of Sandler, a critically scorned charismatic
goofball, with Anderson, whose movies are filled to the brim with anguish and
loneliness, sounded insane…yet exciting in the sense of sampling a new
cinematic flavor. So after 2-years of keen anticipation, not to mention
nail-biting apprehension, I’m glad to announce that Punch-Drunk Love is
not the chaotic mistake many predicted it would be.
In
a film full of surprises, perhaps the greatest is realizing Anderson can control
his usual sprawling nature. PDL only lasts for 97-minutes, which is half
the length of his last opus, Magnolia. While the brief running time
doesn’t mean Punch-Drunk isn’t compact with original ideas, although
the story is expectedly frail, the film plays so speedily that its abrupt ending
leaves you craving for an additional hour. But then again, any film that’s as
magically uplifting as this would leave you salivating for an encore.
Sandler
plays painfully shy business owner Barry Egan. Managing a company that sells and
manufactures novelty toilet plungers, with designs like dice and cards on the
handle (for Las Vegas hotels), Barry leads a lonely life and is prone to violent
outbursts when put under surveillance. His antagonizing seven sisters, who tease
him with such playful insults like “gayboy”, cannot comprehend why their
brother lives in constant discomfort and isolation. But when some bizarre (and
surreal) events begin occurring in his life, including a battered harmonium and
love-interest Lena Leonard (Emily Watson), Barry is forced to take steps towards
confronting his problems instead of avoiding them.
Technically,
the film has no noticeable plot; or better yet, nothing you can summarize in one
sentence. What Anderson does is follow Barry as he journeys to find love and
fulfillment. And it’s his journey, filled with phone-sex scandals and pudding
contests, that comprise the movie.
Punch-Drunk
Love
has such fluidity that it can be perceived as one 97-minute musical number;
especially when Jon Brion’s experimental score, sounding like some twisted
30’s Hollywood musical, booms on the sound track. Barry even sports the same
colored blue suit, used in musicals such as On the town, throughout the
movie. But what inspired Anderson most when creating Barry Egan, other than
Sandler himself, were the films of French auteur Jacques Tati, whose comical Mr.
Hulot similarly wore one suit in all his features. The difference between Tati
and Anderson is Tati’s films were social satires, commenting on everything
from bourgeois lifestyles to tourist resorts, while Anderson focuses on his
characters’ conditions.
There
was much skepticism regarding whether Sandler could pull-off a serious
performance. After two viewings of the film, I can safely say he does so with
aplomb. No one would be able to utter such a thing while watching Billy
Madison or The Waterboy, but Mr. Sandler not only tames his
adolescent humor, he also utilizes it for dramatic purposes. It’s more
disturbing than humorous when Barry, out-of-the-blue, smashes his sisters’
glass closet before dinner. His performance is not, like many critics are
claiming, your typical Sandler shtick. And that isn’t because Sandler
doesn’t use his trademark speech impediments.
Anderson,
whose dexterity for writing deeply-wounded characters has never been more
evident, for the first time focuses all his attention on a single protagonist.
This isn’t an ensemble, like his erratic porn epic Boogie Nights. PDL
places the spotlight solely on Barry, which allows for better character
development.
While
Anderson doesn’t have any sing-alongs or amphibious rainstorms, Punch-Drunk
is just as surreal. Its many enchanting moments are proof to the elevating power
movies sustain, reminding me of why I love the medium: The phone booth Barry is
calling from lights up when he finally gets through to Lena in Hawaii; wavy
psychedelic colors (by artist Jeremy Blake) are splashed on the screen in
between scenes; a car unexpectedly crashes and is never mentioned again. For all
its dreaminess, the film never feels illusory.
Although
audiences may not consider Punch-Drunk Love a musical, its scenes feel
choreographed. When Barry frantically runs thorough the hallways of Lena’s
maze-like building, searching for her apartment to deliver a goodnight kiss, it
plays like a dance ditty synchronized to Brion’s score. It’s a well-crafted
sequence that, while comical in its intentions, is also quietly romantic.
Anderson seems comfortable setting his
films in the desolate San Fernando Valley (His stomping grounds). His latest
does take pitch-stops in Hawaii and Utah, but the camera is more intent on
capturing the Valley’s loneliness than Waikiki’s lush background. The
widescreen format emphasizes on the vast emptiness of this little-known section
of California; located on the outskirts of LA. And DP Robert Elswit, who shot
the director’s pervious three films, once again beautifully captures each
location, using lighter filters than he did in Magnolia. Hopefully, most
Valley residents aren’t as miserable as Anderson’s characters.
Remaining one of the most innovative filmmakers of his generation, Anderson continues to surprise and push-the-limit further with each outing. Punch-Drunk Love is no exception. Like the Steven Spielberg sci-fi epic, Minority Report, this film isn’t quarantined to one particular genre. It freely floats from comedy to arthouse to romance, all without missing a beat. Whatever negative criticisms may surround PDL, most anyone will agree, it isn’t like anything currently playing in theatres.
-Copyright
2002 by
Shaun Sages