One Battle After Another finds Paul Thomas Anderson back in the literary world of Thomas Pynchon: underground revolutionaries, secret societies, lovable drifters, juvenile gags. It’s another win for one of the most consistent directors of our generation, although it falls a bit short of his masterworks: Boogie Nights, There Will Be Blood, and Inherent Vice (the stronger Pynchon trip). Anderson loves his revolutionaries more than he loves revolution, which puts him at odds with Pynchon and privileges comedy, not social theorizing, as the movie’s dominant mode. But it’s hard not to enjoy these freedom fighters quarreling, worrying, and scheming their way out of trouble—and for those wanting a deeper viewing, it’s there. Like Kubrick, for example, Anderson zeroes in on the family as a downstream mirror for tyranny; the revolution only resumes once Dad stops being such a hardass. And like the Cohen brothers, Anderson portrays his anti-hippie as a touchy sheep in wolf’s clothing; not since Jeffrey Lebowski has a conservative villain been this pathetic. The real wolves—rich racists in Lacoste polos—are formidable, but even they can’t see that history isn’t linear: they’re on top now, but they might be surprised at what’s in store for them just over the next dip in the road.
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