There Will Be Blood
Mar. 9th, 2008 09:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zalenaFor those of you keeping score, I did go to see There Will Be Blood yesterday. I'm not sure what to say. It was a very big film, which seems to be bigger than liking or not liking. Most of you would not like it, so I recommend using your best judgment before seeing it. Several critics have joked about the apt title, but the violence in the film is less about blood than it is something else I can't quite put my finger on. Needless to say it isn't the 'feel good' film of the season, and even defies the category of tragedy with its cool approach to its characters and its uncompromising, unrepentant, approach to conflict.
This approach informs the ending which has left many audiences feeling incomplete. Ebert commented on it saying, "Those who hate the ending, and there may be many, might be asked to dictate a different one. Something bittersweet, perhaps? Grandly tragic? Only madness can supply a termination for this story." I would suggest that it is less what happens in the end, than the setting of the final scene that bothers people. If the conflict had taken place outdoors, instead of in a luxurious private bowling alley, the cycle would feel more complete, and the action that takes place would be more symbolically obvious.
Instead, the ending is almost anti-climactic compared to the powerful forces/images that come before. The landscape and the indifferent (and definitely not benevolent,) forces of nature (including the animalistic: greedy, violent, self-interested aspects of humans) inform every aspect of this film. Dark, claustrophobic, underground scenes alternate with a stark scrub desert and a sun so bright color washes out of the frame. Oil is the only possible living to be eked out of a place that is otherwise devoid of human comforts. The people living there don't even have enough water to raise grain for bread. Lives are lost, bodies are maimed, as they struggle to pump oil from the bowels of the earth. There is a violent 'blow out' scene and a derrick fire giving visuals to the tremendous pressures and personalities easily sparked to violence.
The landscape is the aspect of the film that is most a 'Western.'* It is not about cowboys, and it is a film that is bigger than genre. Thematically it is most similar to other American magnate films, but lacks the sentimentality of Citizen Kane or the actual biography of Scorsese's Howard Hughes biopic The Aviator. [To a certain extent oilman Jett Rink in Giant is also a comparison, but Giant seems almost melodramatically smarmy by comparison. Much bigger forces make people tick than envy, mere scrappiness, or disappointment in love. It is these forces the film attempts to explore. They are not melodramatic, smarmy, or in anyway small. They are forces as big, volatile, and explosive, as the landscape itself.] Instead, Daniel Plainview is a personality undefined by personal history let loose on the landscape and in many ways defined by it.
To that end I would argue that Plainview is not so much mad, as ruthless. He is a speculator instead of an outlaw, but still operates largely outside the law. He refuses to bow to society's conventions and rules unless it can materially benefit him in some way. His relationships are less defined by sentimental or expected bonds than they are also a means to an end. There are some moments of tenderness with the boy HW, an adopted son he uses mostly to misdirect attention from his monster in his business dealings.
There is also the question of doubles that recurs throughout the film. One of the central character conflicts occurs between Plainview and a self-styled faith healer. The faith healer has a 'brother' who is more interested in money than in faith; but it is never made clear whether or not this 'brother' is a twin, or a different face of the same man.
Likewise, Plainview has a long-lost brother who shows up midway through the film. This 'brother' operates less as a relative than as a double for Plainview revealing what he might have been had he been less ruthless, less determined, had he given into the demands of the landscape instead of mastering it. Plainview is briefly sidetracked by the glimpse into this possibility. There is a fantastic shot of the two men on the beach where one is shrouded in shadow the other in light. But ultimately Plainview rejects the possibility of a weaker self, and his actions set into motion the conflict for the rest of the film.
There are a lot of different ways to look at the film, and while somewhat unsatisfying as entertainment, it is the films ability to stand up to all the different forms of analysis that can be thrown at it that will determine how it will be withstand the test of time. Critics seem to like it, which already gives it a boost that it may otherwise not have received.
Much has been made of director Paul Thomas Anderson's relationship with Robert Altman. But I'm not sure he has Altman's human touch. (Even if Boogie Nights, and to a certain extent Magnolia had the ensemble aspect common to Altman's films.) Altman's films, while not always narratively coherent, have a very human scale and touch. There is a sense of Altman loving people and loving performers. Even when encountering unsympathetic characters Altman is always reaching for some thread of common humanity. Altman's themes definitley involve some sense of the possibility of redemption, and a sort of humorous benevolence towards human fallibility.
But There Will Be Blood is in no way a film that can be compared to Altman. One of the critics mentioned that the establishing shot in There Will Be Blood is similar to the opening shot in Stanley Kubrick's Space Odyssey 2001. (With the buttes and the music: btw the soundtrack to this film was really fascinating and extremely effective, making use of interesting sounds that either mimicked the human body, or the sounds that an oil operation might make.) I thought it was an interesting comment, because There Will Be Blood has more in common with Kubrick than Altman. There is a coolness to this film that seems to be more about exploring ideas than evolving sympathies. And, I would argue, this film is also about much larger cosmologies than it is about individual characters or cultures.
Two further thoughts:
Ultimately, the film made me feel extremely uncomfortable. Especially the underground scenes. I can't remember the last time I sweat through a film like that. It was like a horror film with no jumpy payoff. Or like the dread of Bergman's existential explorations, but without the relief.
Critics all seem to have commented on the lack of women in this film. I'm not sure that women are really necessary, they would've definitely complicated the narrative, though a very messy, painful, birth scene would not have been out-of-place. I also have a difficult time imagining a female character that could've stood up to the force of Daniel Day-Lewis' performance. Even the preacher, who is Lewis' obvious foil, seemed extremely weak and amorphous by comparison. Putting a woman into the picture would've changed completely the thematic focus and required a more political/historical tone.
I don't think that women need to be in all stories. But I do wish that more films were made about women with women as central characters in their own stories. (And, preferrably, not always having to do with getting married.) Great human themes apply to women, too, and it is disturbing that it is still easier for women to identify with male protagonists than it is for men to identify with women. Why is this so taboo?
And further to this thought, it is irritating for women to always be used as symbols (re: yesterday's thoughts on Once Upon a Time in the West...) and so rarely seen as humans in their own right.
*(Also in its exploration of the interplay between two Western types: the confidence man and the outlaw.)
This approach informs the ending which has left many audiences feeling incomplete. Ebert commented on it saying, "Those who hate the ending, and there may be many, might be asked to dictate a different one. Something bittersweet, perhaps? Grandly tragic? Only madness can supply a termination for this story." I would suggest that it is less what happens in the end, than the setting of the final scene that bothers people. If the conflict had taken place outdoors, instead of in a luxurious private bowling alley, the cycle would feel more complete, and the action that takes place would be more symbolically obvious.
Instead, the ending is almost anti-climactic compared to the powerful forces/images that come before. The landscape and the indifferent (and definitely not benevolent,) forces of nature (including the animalistic: greedy, violent, self-interested aspects of humans) inform every aspect of this film. Dark, claustrophobic, underground scenes alternate with a stark scrub desert and a sun so bright color washes out of the frame. Oil is the only possible living to be eked out of a place that is otherwise devoid of human comforts. The people living there don't even have enough water to raise grain for bread. Lives are lost, bodies are maimed, as they struggle to pump oil from the bowels of the earth. There is a violent 'blow out' scene and a derrick fire giving visuals to the tremendous pressures and personalities easily sparked to violence.
The landscape is the aspect of the film that is most a 'Western.'* It is not about cowboys, and it is a film that is bigger than genre. Thematically it is most similar to other American magnate films, but lacks the sentimentality of Citizen Kane or the actual biography of Scorsese's Howard Hughes biopic The Aviator. [To a certain extent oilman Jett Rink in Giant is also a comparison, but Giant seems almost melodramatically smarmy by comparison. Much bigger forces make people tick than envy, mere scrappiness, or disappointment in love. It is these forces the film attempts to explore. They are not melodramatic, smarmy, or in anyway small. They are forces as big, volatile, and explosive, as the landscape itself.] Instead, Daniel Plainview is a personality undefined by personal history let loose on the landscape and in many ways defined by it.
To that end I would argue that Plainview is not so much mad, as ruthless. He is a speculator instead of an outlaw, but still operates largely outside the law. He refuses to bow to society's conventions and rules unless it can materially benefit him in some way. His relationships are less defined by sentimental or expected bonds than they are also a means to an end. There are some moments of tenderness with the boy HW, an adopted son he uses mostly to misdirect attention from his monster in his business dealings.
There is also the question of doubles that recurs throughout the film. One of the central character conflicts occurs between Plainview and a self-styled faith healer. The faith healer has a 'brother' who is more interested in money than in faith; but it is never made clear whether or not this 'brother' is a twin, or a different face of the same man.
Likewise, Plainview has a long-lost brother who shows up midway through the film. This 'brother' operates less as a relative than as a double for Plainview revealing what he might have been had he been less ruthless, less determined, had he given into the demands of the landscape instead of mastering it. Plainview is briefly sidetracked by the glimpse into this possibility. There is a fantastic shot of the two men on the beach where one is shrouded in shadow the other in light. But ultimately Plainview rejects the possibility of a weaker self, and his actions set into motion the conflict for the rest of the film.
There are a lot of different ways to look at the film, and while somewhat unsatisfying as entertainment, it is the films ability to stand up to all the different forms of analysis that can be thrown at it that will determine how it will be withstand the test of time. Critics seem to like it, which already gives it a boost that it may otherwise not have received.
Much has been made of director Paul Thomas Anderson's relationship with Robert Altman. But I'm not sure he has Altman's human touch. (Even if Boogie Nights, and to a certain extent Magnolia had the ensemble aspect common to Altman's films.) Altman's films, while not always narratively coherent, have a very human scale and touch. There is a sense of Altman loving people and loving performers. Even when encountering unsympathetic characters Altman is always reaching for some thread of common humanity. Altman's themes definitley involve some sense of the possibility of redemption, and a sort of humorous benevolence towards human fallibility.
But There Will Be Blood is in no way a film that can be compared to Altman. One of the critics mentioned that the establishing shot in There Will Be Blood is similar to the opening shot in Stanley Kubrick's Space Odyssey 2001. (With the buttes and the music: btw the soundtrack to this film was really fascinating and extremely effective, making use of interesting sounds that either mimicked the human body, or the sounds that an oil operation might make.) I thought it was an interesting comment, because There Will Be Blood has more in common with Kubrick than Altman. There is a coolness to this film that seems to be more about exploring ideas than evolving sympathies. And, I would argue, this film is also about much larger cosmologies than it is about individual characters or cultures.
Two further thoughts:
Ultimately, the film made me feel extremely uncomfortable. Especially the underground scenes. I can't remember the last time I sweat through a film like that. It was like a horror film with no jumpy payoff. Or like the dread of Bergman's existential explorations, but without the relief.
Critics all seem to have commented on the lack of women in this film. I'm not sure that women are really necessary, they would've definitely complicated the narrative, though a very messy, painful, birth scene would not have been out-of-place. I also have a difficult time imagining a female character that could've stood up to the force of Daniel Day-Lewis' performance. Even the preacher, who is Lewis' obvious foil, seemed extremely weak and amorphous by comparison. Putting a woman into the picture would've changed completely the thematic focus and required a more political/historical tone.
I don't think that women need to be in all stories. But I do wish that more films were made about women with women as central characters in their own stories. (And, preferrably, not always having to do with getting married.) Great human themes apply to women, too, and it is disturbing that it is still easier for women to identify with male protagonists than it is for men to identify with women. Why is this so taboo?
And further to this thought, it is irritating for women to always be used as symbols (re: yesterday's thoughts on Once Upon a Time in the West...) and so rarely seen as humans in their own right.
*(Also in its exploration of the interplay between two Western types: the confidence man and the outlaw.)
