The younger Gary’s precocious business acumen and the older Alana’s arrested development create persistent friction regarding who is the senior party in this partnership. While Licorice Pizza couldn’t feel more distinct from Anderson’s previous feature, The Phantom Thread, the two share a similar structure in that their drama is driven less by external plot and more by the constantly shifting dynamics of the central, oft-prickly relationship. There is an inherent tension that comes with their age difference and while Alana won’t countenance a romantic liaison with Gary, even with his vocal interest, they have an immediate connection that develops into a deeper affection. She’s initially dismissive but is eventually disarmed by his cocksure insistence and performed maturity and ends up accepting his invitation for a drink, apparently despite herself. It is a place where post-war prosperity is surging, bona fide movie stars rub shoulders with misty-eyed dreamers, and where a 15-year-old child actor, Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) has the gumption to chat up the 25-year-old Alana Kane (Alana Haim) who works for the company taking his school photos. This is an almost folkloric evocation of the Valley in 1973, cobbled together from Anderson’s own experiences, local legends, tall tales, and the reminiscences of producer Gary Goetzman, upon whom one of the central characters is partly based. Foregoing any specific narrative thrust, it luxuriates in the drawing of vivid characters and a nostalgic, illusory, and multifaceted portrait of a recurring Anderson locale, the San Fernando Valley in California. It’s a yarn spun to occupy a space somewhere in the vicinity of the shaggy dog story or the picaresque, though neither descriptor quite hits the mark nor conveys the film’s underlying intricacy. On one hand, it feels like a river running lazy and low beneath the golden light of the California sun, but on the other, it has a hustler’s energy, and there’s a sense that anything could drift into view around the next bend. If that’s not the sign of a successful movie than I don’t know what is.To call Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film, Licorice Pizza, meandering could be considered an understatement. The combination of physical effects, creepy costumes and innovative set design ensure that Meander remains captivating throughout, and while the curious ending will be too ambiguous for some, I left Turi’s second feature film wanting more. She pretty much carries this movie all by herself, although her surroundings are just as much of a character in this thing as she is. The fact that it does so only semi-successfully is beside the point.įrench writer/director Mathieu Turi does a great job in keeping his claustrophobic setting alive and diverse with various shocking moments adding to the overall sense of unease created by a committed and engaging performance from Weiss in the lead role. The difference between that admittedly great movie and this one is that Meander combines high-octane entertainment with a meditation on grief and loss. Now that’s out of the way, let’s explore how this film is actually nothing like any of those movies…įollowing a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger, Lisa (Gaia Weiss) finds herself imprisoned inside some kind of futuristic hell scape that emits deadly fireballs every ten minutes. I am now legally obliged to mention Cube, Saw and the Escape Room franchise. This is a film in which a protagonist is trapped in a series of pipes and tubes and has to solve puzzles in order to escape. Any review for a horror film with a social conscience ( Get Out) or symbolism ( The Babadook), any found footage film ( The Blair Witch Project, Paranormal Activity), or any slasher movie ( Halloween) will no doubt feature lazy comparisons to movies that came before. Too often (and I’m as guilty of this as most), horror movie reviews just read as a list of influences.
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