Our story begins with Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), a soldier in World War II. Freddie is socially isolated from his rowdy mates, and when he finally joins the fray, he makes everyone uncomfortable by miming sex acts on a sand sculpture and masturbating into the ocean. Relatedly, when he undergoes psychological testing for employment placement, he interprets every inkblot as male or female genitalia, again indicating an abnormal sexual obsessiveness. And this mysterious issue hinders him from successfully rejoining postwar society: the day after passing out on a dinner date from drinking too much, he takes out his sexual frustration on an unsuspecting customer and promptly loses his photography job.
Why does Freddie have this problem with sex and women? The answer is soon unearthed by Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), the leader of a scientology-like cult known as The Cause. During an intense “Processing” question-and-answer session, Dodd gets Freddie to admit that he was sexually molested by his Auntie Bertha as a child. Such a traumatic early experience would be the very thing that would leave one emotionally stunted as an adult in the manner that Freddie displays.
Dodd also discovers that Freddie killed Japanese soldiers during Naval combat, indicating that Freddie’s war experience was perhaps uncommonly intense and violent. The revelation of this additional trauma provides insight into why Freddie, in addition to his issues with women, engages in aggressive physical outbursts throughout the film. A prescient official, in fact, warns the outgoing soldiers that due to their experiences, their reintegration with society may not be perfectly smooth:
Official: “There will be people on the outside who will not understand the condition you men have. Some may think it a rather shameful condition. If the average civilian had been through the same stresses that you have been through, undoubtedly they too would develop the same nervous conditions.”
This connection between traumatic experiences and individuals’ maladaptive behaviors is well recognized today. And it’s to Dodd’s credit that he’s able to hone in on the crucial internal sources of Freddie’s outward issues. But he veers off course in applying the information he extracts. As a typical example, he lectures to Freddie raging in his prison cell: “Your fear of capture and imprisonment is an implant from millions of years ago…. Your spirit was free for a moment, then it was captured by an invader force bent on turning you to the darkest ways.”
Now, these ramblings are kind of similar to the contemporary understanding of the effects of trauma. After all, Dodd is attributing human problems to prior experiences that have pernicious and unexpectedly far-reaching consequences. And he encourages members to open their minds so that they may relive these events, thereby wrestling free of their stifling grips—a practice that evokes conventional Freudian theory.
But although Dodd may be commended for generally understanding an important psychological truth, his eccentricity and grandiosity have warped the concept into a bizarre, laughable dogma. When a cynic challenges him at a party, Dodd sputters that his methods can cure leukemia and that the world is trillions of years old.
Despite the flaws in his methods, Dodd’s grasp on trauma and its significance is enough to hook the aimless and desperate Freddie. Although Freddie admits in his first Processing session that he had initially perceived Dodd and his wife Peggy (Amy Adams) as “fools,” this view changes dramatically after a few more sessions. The pivotal moment occurs when Dodd encourages Freddie to revisit the memory of his former girlfriend Doris, whom Freddie abruptly left to go to sea, a memory that haunts him with regret and shame. From flashbacks we can infer that Freddie’s aforementioned childhood sexual trauma was likely a major contributor to his sudden departure: Freddie and Doris, too, have a wide gap in age, and Freddie is seen to become uncomfortable upon realizing this.
After the Processing is over, Dodd asks Freddie how he feels, and Freddie replies with noticeable relief: “I feel good.” Dodd in turn supplies impressive compassion: “You are the bravest boy I have ever met,” leading Freddie to crack a wide smile. From this moment on, Freddie becomes viciously loyal to Dodd. Thus, by giving Freddie a precious forum to confront his many traumas, Dodd converts Freddie into a fierce supporter.
Despite being a loyal soldier of The Cause, though, Freddie doesn’t really understand most of what Dodd says. In fact, several scenes demonstrate that Freddie’s own behavior contradicts or disproves Dodd’s ideas. For example, Freddie is made to listen to a tape that insists, “Man is not an animal,” but, far from absorbing this high-minded mantra, he instead passes a note to a woman that reads: “Do you want to fuck?” In a separate scene, Dodd strikes up a rendition of an old-timey singalong, but Freddie, rather than enjoy the folksiness of Dodd’s performance, imagines every woman present completely nude.
Since Freddie’s behavior is so at odds with the values of The Cause, most of the members, especially Peggy, don’t like him very much. But Dodd won’t get rid of him. In fact, it seems that Dodd is actually drawn to the very characteristics in Freddie that he outwardly denounces as “animal”-like.
For example, when Freddie farts during processing and laughs, Dodd can’t help but be amused, and he admits, “Laughing is good during processing. Even if it is the sound of an animal.” When Freddie hunts down and beats up Dodd’s cynical challenger—an alarming turn of events—Dodd merely scolds Freddie as a “naughty boy” and takes no corrective action, a clear condoning of the act. And when Freddie returns from prison and the two reconcile, they wrestle on the lawn laughing, a rowdy scene at odds with Dodd’s usual emphasis on cultivated manners.
The two also bond over their love for alcohol. Of course, it’s no surprise that Freddie, a damaged individual, would be drawn to drinking as a way to calm his inner demons. When Dodd asks him what’s in his highly potent concoctions, Freddie responds, “secrets,” underscoring that he uses alcohol to quiet the sort of private, painful memories that Dodd uncovers in Processing. It may be surprising, then, that Dodd, who contrastingly doesn’t share traumatic or harmful memories during the film, also favors drinking—but perhaps it shouldn’t be. After all, Dodd is fairly unstable himself, sharing Freddie’s tendency toward volatile outbursts (“Pig fuck!”). Perhaps his inventing of The Cause reflects a yearning to confront a difficult, hidden past of his own.
Regardless, Dodd certainly sees himself in Freddie, and when his family pressures him to drop Freddie for good, he instead ratchets up the treatment with new methods to prove that The Cause is for real. These methods are strange to say the least, involving such tactics as Peggy reading erotica to Freddie, as well as Clark taunting Freddie with sensitive personal details that were documented during earlier Processing sessions.
The goal is for Freddie not to react to what is presented to him, thereby proving his distance from animalistic “negative emotions.” These scenes, in fact, are reminiscent of the sequence in A Clockwork Orange (1971) when Alex is subjected to provocative stimuli to prove that his impulses have been stamped out of him—except Freddie hasn’t undergone the Ludovico Technique, and it shows.
To be fair, Freddie does achieve some eventual success in controlling his behavior during the new sessions. But concurrent flashbacks indicate that even in these instances, he’s actually experiencing quite a lot of emotion. For example, when Clark bitingly suggests that Freddie belongs “away from people” like his mother, who resides in an asylum, Freddie involuntarily recalls a cold, lonely night, smoking a cigarette on the deck during the war.
Another prominent new treatment method is to have Freddie walk back and forth in the study, with Dodd encouraging him to use his imagination when interacting with the wooden panel and the window. At first Freddie is frustrated at the inanity of this pointless task, but, forced to repeat it over and over, he eventually uses the time to imagine himself having sex with Doris, which Dodd dubiously considers a success.
The point of this extended treatment montage is that Freddie is deriving less benefit from The Cause’s methods than before. Yes, he’s still recounting emotional moments from the past, as he did during the early Processing sessions, thereby providing some form of the catharsis that initially hooked him. But this is mostly despite, not because of The Cause’s methods, which are becoming increasingly mangled by the eccentric beliefs of Dodd and his family, dampening any positive effect that might be achieved.
For example, Clark’s taunting causes Freddie to recall dark memories, but Dodd discourages Freddie from reacting to them, diminishing any therapeutic benefit. Freddie can sense that it isn’t working, wondering out loud several times how the odd activities Dodd prescribes are going to help him—a far cry from his initial enthusiasm for basic “Processing” with Dodd.
So it’s no surprise that when The Cause travels to Phoenix for its first conference, Freddie doesn’t appear improved in the slightest, predictably assaulting an editor who opines that Dodd’s new book “stinks.” In addition, subtle visual clues during the conference indicate that following his barrage of mostly ineffective treatment, Freddie is losing faith in The Cause.
For instance, Freddie is seen struggling to appreciate Dodd’s keynote speech at the conference, whereas formerly, he appeared to enjoy Dodd’s oration. He appears particularly miffed by Dodd’s privileging of “laughter” as the “secret to living in these bodies that we hold”—likely recalling that in their first Processing session together, Dodd referred to laughter somewhat dismissively, calling it “good” but still “the sound of an animal.” And after fighting with the editor outside, Freddie sits down and puts his head in his hands, appearing tormented by the possibility that the man’s offending view of Dodd as a “garbled, twisted mystic” is in fact accurate.
Having thusly outgrown The Cause, Freddie takes his recovery into his own hands. He has apparently concluded that he feels better upon confronting painful memories, as he did in simple Processing, rather than upon blocking out emotions, as the later techniques emphasized. So he departs suddenly during the “Pick a Point” game with the aim of finally reuniting with Doris. This is a major step for him, and it’s perhaps a testament to Dodd’s work that Freddie has built up the confidence to do it, since, as previously mentioned, his leaving Doris had been a source of shame for him. Unfortunately, Freddie has taken far too long: Doris is now married with children.
Freddie’s reaction to this news, however, is heartening to watch. He’s sad, of course, and his awkward mannerisms are as prominent as ever, but overall he takes it in stride. He confirms with Doris’s mother that Doris was upset when he left seven years ago, making sure that his memories of a mutual romance weren’t illusory. His conclusion is admirable: “She’s happy, and that’s good.” And at the end of his conversation with Doris’s mother, he asks how her husband is doing, a surprisingly well related gesture. It seems that revisiting this key moment in his life has indeed helped heal his wounds somewhat, and has afforded him some degree of calm.
But now we reach the movie’s final act, and this is where things get truly difficult.
Freddie is summoned by Dodd to The Cause’s new school in England, where we see that Dodd is not doing well. He’s housed in a huge office that resembles, surely symbolically, a church with no congregation.
And Peggy, seated creepily in the shadows to his left, preempts him by grilling Freddie herself, suggesting that she, not Dodd, is truly in charge now. This isn’t too surprising given Peggy’s earlier zealotry and manipulation of Dodd: she dictates propaganda for her husband to disseminate (“We must always attack”) and gives him a matter-of-fact hand job to diminish any extramarital urges that could weaken The Cause. She had always been a driving force behind the scenes; now she runs the show.
Dodd’s dialogue to Freddie subsequent to Peggy’s leaving the room demonstrates that he isn’t enjoying the England iteration of The Cause. Tied to an institutional location for the first time and smothered by Peggy’s influence, he expresses jealousy over Freddie’s comparative freedom and pines for a life with no “master”:
Dodd: Free winds and no tyranny for you? Freddie, sailor of the seas. You pay no rent, free to go where you please… Good luck. For if you figure a way to live without serving a master, any master, then let the rest of us know. For you would be the first in the history of the world.
So while Peggy sneers at Freddie, “This isn’t fashion,” Dodd’s speech suggests that, in fact, that’s exactly what it had been to him. Dodd had styled himself as “the Master,” but now that he isn’t, it isn’t fun anymore. Sitting at a lonely desk with his wife whispering in his ear, he’s lost the former twinkle in his eye; his growing responsibilities have dimmed the magic of his charisma. This claustrophobic frustration can be traced all the way back to the Phoenix conference, when Dodd explodes at Helen, who questions some of the language in his new book: “What do you want from me?!”
That Dodd is frustrated by his increasing responsibilities is significant, because this directly contrasts with Freddie’s attitude. Whereas Dodd apparently seeks freedom from obligation, Freddie craves the feeling of connection. He doesn’t want to be an untethered “sailor of the seas,” as Dodd idealizes, perhaps since he has already experienced this lifestyle, and it didn’t go well. He wants to belong to a place and a person.
It seems undeniable that this is the more sustainable goal, as even Dodd professes to understand that, in truth, no man can go without serving “any master.” Thus, not only has Freddie outgrown The Cause, but he has now outgrown Dodd, who can’t bear the ordinariness of everyday life and whose own movement has failed to deliver him the total freedom he desired. Perhaps all along Dodd was drawn to Freddie for his apparent transcendence of mundane daily duties; however, Freddie desired no such thing.
Given his discontentment, Dodd implicitly discourages Freddie from returning, believing that Freddie is better off on his own. Before they part, he spins an absurd yarn of the two men working together with the Pigeon Post in a past life. It’s detailed and dramatic, the kind of compelling fabrication that Dodd used to deliver so routinely. But now he’s reduced to announcing it quietly from his desk, and it’s clear to both men that things aren’t what they once were.
A pivotal moment then occurs. Freddie states his intention to leave and makes a winking jab at Dodd: maybe he’ll stay with Dodd “in the next life.” Dodd maintains his poker face, but the comical bravado of his response belies that he’s in on Freddie’s joke: “If I see you in the next life, you will be my sworn enemy, and I will show you no mercy.” Freddie laughs in reply, and Dodd smiles wryly.
This exchange is a brief mutual recognition between the two friends that The Cause’s dogma is merely Dodd’s fantastical invention. As Dodd’s son Val (Jesse Plemons) had stated in an earlier scene, Dodd is “making this up as he goes along.” With Freddie departing, Dodd momentarily tips his (empty) hand.
Dodd concludes the meeting by suddenly singing “Slow Boat to China,” which for many viewers is a mystery too far. But since we’ve analyzed the full conversation thoroughly, we can see that this is just another example of Dodd communicating through his characteristically flourishing rhetoric that he has grown unhappy, and that he wishes he could travel away freely with Freddie. As we’ve stated, this is solely Dodd’s fantasy: Freddie wants to rejoin society, not escape it. Nevertheless, Freddie is also emotional during Dodd’s performance, as he, too, likely misses the bond that the two shared before The Cause increasingly interfered.
After all, Dodd was responsible for first encouraging Freddie to relive some of the traumatic experiences that had damaged him so badly, and for supporting him along the way (“You are the bravest boy I have ever met”), ultimately setting Freddie on the long path to fighting back some of his demons and becoming a functioning member of society again.
As proof of Freddie’s progress, after leaving Dodd he picks up a girl in a pub, and they have casual, normal sex—certainly an impossibility for Freddie before meeting Dodd. And to emphasize Dodd’s contribution, Freddie is shown repeating some of very questions Dodd posed in their early Processing sessions, perhaps trying to seduce this woman in the same way Dodd, as it were, seduced him: by encouraging open, honest dialogue about any subject. And it seems to be…kind of working.
Finally, we see a flashback of Freddie laying down next to the sand woman from the beginning of the film. What is the meaning of this image?
It conveys that Freddie, after all this time, has finally achieved what he desperately wanted from the start: a female companion. Previously, his jarring experiences from childhood and the war had left him unable to interact in a properly calibrated way in society; but after years with Dodd, unhelpful and bizarre though much of that time was, he goes to bed happy with a woman—who isn’t made of sand.
Let’s return to the opening shot of The Master. We see the ship’s wake: turbulent, strong, vast. This image, which recurs numerous times, summarizes Paul Thomas Anderson’s incredible film, which is about trauma—the “wake” of destructive, devastating events—and the lengths individuals will go to heal it. Freddie Quell, to quiet his own accrued demons, goes to war, leaves the love of his life, drinks paint thinner, joins a cult based on science fiction silliness, physically attacks the cult’s enemies, and subjects himself to ridiculous and even dangerous therapeutic methods.
The Master therefore provides insight into many of the seemingly bizarre things that humans do and try; after all, to “quell” the torturous pain of trauma, anything is fair game. And after several years, Freddie is in fact able to rejoin society and live independently, thanks to the one true kernel in all of The Cause’s teachings: that the only way to heal the effects of trauma is to courageously confront the events themselves.
— Jim Andersen
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