"Licorice Pizza" Review: Alana Haim shines in the PT Anderson epic-Los Angeles Times

2021-11-16 19:31:36 By : Ms. Brenda Wong

The Times is dedicated to reviewing the distribution of drama films during the COVID-19 pandemic. Due to the risks of watching movies during this period, we remind readers to follow the health and safety guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and local health officials.

Although Paul Thomas Anderson’s new movie is full of pleasant surprises—starting with the title "Licorice Pizza"—but when you learn that it opens with an exciting scene, you May not be shocked. They are Anderson's expertise.

How this filmmaker loves his desperate liar and idle dreamer, and when they chase their desires, what wonderful words he gave them: love and sex, and of course, money, power, and greatness. Think about the fashion designer flirting with the waitresses in "Phantom Thread" and the popularity of the oil tycoon entering the town in "There Will Be Blood". Imagine that in the "Master", the cult leader reaches out to a lost soul and hints at the possibility of salvation with an unmistakable temptation.

The leader was played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, which brought a strange excitement to the opening scene of "Licorice Pizza." The hit-up artist here-played by the late actor's son Cooper Hoffman-is a 15-year-old general named Gary Valentine in the entertainment industry.

This was a photo day at Tarzana High School in the mid-1970s. Gary was ready to dedicate his wavy red hair and acne smile to the descendants of the yearbook, only to find that he was being assisted by a photographer named Alana Kane (Alana Haim) obsessed with. He was not bothered by her age (she was 25) or her contempt, he kept chattering about his acting career, the public relations company he and his mother ran, and his insistence on taking Alana out for dinner, which made her exhausted. She did not agree, but when she turned around, a surrender smile crossed her face.

By then, she also won your surrender. Gary Valentine may be obsessive, but Alana—I mean actors and roles are interchangeable—has launched a more subtle charm offensive. Black hair, long eyes, natural warmth and wit will soon arouse indignation. She is the star of this noisy, open-minded movie and its reason for existence. Not coincidentally, "Valentine's Day" is the title of one of several short films and music videos directed by Anderson, starring the rock trio Heim (aka Alana) and her sisters Esther and Danielle . Valentine's Day also described the movie aptly, and it is the most passionate love letter written by filmmakers to actors in recent memory.

But "Licorice Pizza" is more than that: a quasi-romantic comedy and a furry epic, a portrait of the rise and fall of a waterbed empire, a string of Hollywood legends, a glimpse into the secret room of political power and—not superfluous— -A group of misbehaving people. Anderson is a magpie in film history. He draws inspiration from all directions: most of the plot is based on anecdotes told by his friend Gary Goetzman, an actor, prolific producer and Gary Valentine's loose stand-in. Some of them are inspired by classic works such as "American Graffiti", which are inspired by the hamburgers and cherry bombs of California youth, or are based on real life events, such as the shortage of gasoline in the 1970s which led to the lengthening of car lines.

But most of the content of "Licorice Pizza" seems to have also been designed by Anderson and his actors, who include not only Alana Heim, but also other members of their working-class Jewish family. (Her father, Moti Haim, was a man who liked being tough.) With its fun, sometimes comical development and the little help of infectious friends, it’s easy (if it’s Deceptive) Anderson's most laid-back photos were once made in his San Fernando Valley backyard. The smooth gliding of the camera sets a lazy, tortuous rhythm, but with a few exceptions-some involve the effort of the restaurant owner (John Michael Higgins) and his Japanese wife (Mizui Yumi, Anjo Hui) to revolve the door 'S comedy nonsense-almost no moment feels wasted.

Although it is not the first time that the ghosts of Robert Altman and Hal Ashby linger on Anderson’s work, "Licorice Pizza" is neither a superb ensemble like "Mulan" nor is it like "Drunken Love" "That fascinating weird combination. "Although it may unfold near the porn empire of the 70s in "Buji Nights," it opens the curtain of a softer and not necessarily friendlier corner of the entertainment industry. Strangely, it may be related to Anderson's movies. The most similar, more the theme than the atmosphere, is the "phantom line", which is the story of another woman negotiating her emotional and professional status in the life of a distracted male partner. (The two films share Some of Anderson’s expert regular collaborators include composer Jonny Greenwood and costume designer Mark Bridges.)

For Alana and Gary, this kind of negotiation takes many forms. It started when Alana accompanied Gary to New York to participate in the reunion of live actors in his film "Under a Roof" (an improvisation on one of Gottsman’s early screen works, Lucille Ball’s 1968 comedy "You Yes, mine and ours”), the first and last film of his short acting career.

Back in Los Angeles, the star-studded Alana briefly dated another actor (Schuyler Gisondo), only to find that when Gary started a new waterbed business, she was pulled back into Gary's orbit. For the rest of the film, the two men will maintain intense movement, colliding and separating forever, as if they were trapped in one of the pinball machines that will be Gary's next project. (No wonder they almost always ran towards each other when they reunited.)

One of the animation tensions of "Licorice Pizza" is that there are too many swirls around Alana and Gary-so many colors and chaos, so many beautiful music and gorgeous wallpapers-almost distracting from what happened between them. attention. Alana was impressed by Gary's entrepreneurial wisdom, but also frustrated by his immaturity and narcissism—and her inability to shake off her own ability. As far as Gary is concerned, he can't help seeing a 15-year-old boy in the gloom of jealousy and insecurity ("I'm cooler than you," he was furious).

With a bit of energy from Peter Pan and Wendy (Gary’s younger brother and teenage friends brought together a group of lost boys), their relationship remained platonic, even though they peddled a series of product desires that served the goods in their own way . (It is worth noting that although water beds often appear in movies as period markers or as props for thrillers, perhaps only a first-rate termite artist like Anderson can make them compelling as a commercial adventure.)

But then, everyone sold things in "licorice pizza": propaganda, sushi, menswear, political candidates. (Benny Safdie plays the young Joel Wachs. This is the first of three games he ran for mayor of Los Angeles.) You may forget the names of some characters, but real-life business names will remain like commercials In your mind: Tiny Toes, Fat Bernie's and Tail o'the Cock, steaks and margaritas are one of the main meeting places of the movie. This is where Alana said "You are cute, Gary" for the first time, and Haim used a cute little trill to convey a line, as if the mask was about to fall off. This is also how Alana unwisely had a drink with an actor modeled on William Holden (a nuanced, hoarse-sounding Sean Penn), and meeting another person I won’t undermine her identity The place of the old Hollywood returnees.

Interestingly, one of the now-defunct retail paradise that we did not go to is Licorice Pizza, which was a chain of record stores throughout Southern California in the 1970s. Some of its merchandise appeared in the film’s rich soundtrack—Nina Simeone, Sonny and Cher, Paul McCartney, Gordon Lightfoot, and many others—but the title itself was never explicitly mentioned. Its absence evokes a sense of loss, a love of past vinyl record screening and tape shuffling-and, this is Anderson, going to the movies, there are countless real, fictional, or somewhere in between. The story of between is waiting to be unearthed and unraveled. (Speaking of which, Anderson and Michael Bowman took this photo on delicate 35mm film; it started a 70mm Los Angeles theater performance in Westwood’s Regency Village on November 26.)

Some of these stories are told here, and few of them are more compelling than the lively and disturbing Bradley Cooper (Bradley Cooper) as Jon Peters (Jon Peters). Jon Peters is a prolific producer and serial erotic (and frequent sexual harassment defendant), and his early career as a hairdresser is one of them. Ashby was the inspiration for the great comedy "Shampoo" in 1975. Peters is rushing to date Barbra Streisand when Gary and his staff are late for delivery with waterbeds. This is bad news for them, but good news for us: Cooper, His chest hair emerged from a flowing white cotton shirt, looking like a despicable Jesus. He played Peters with a cocktail of anger and testosterone, leading the "licorice pizza" to a crazy high point.

These alternative Hollywood vignettes are full of emotion. There is also a circle of threats, realizing how happiness and danger are mixed in an industry where Gary and Alana are asymmetrical: he may be smarter, but she turns her head more.

After meeting with Mary Grady (Harriet Sansom Harris), a well-known children’s genius agent, Mary Grady noticed Alana’s "very Jewish nose" and urged her to consider nudes, and soon their The Hollywood dream is condensed. Their disillusionment in their youth seems to reflect Anderson’s own ambivalence in the industry. His long, loving close-ups of Hoffman and Heim, with makeup on their faces, no charm, and the feeling of being both against the status quo. The sharp correction is another pure expression of love.

For this reason, Anderson is too honest to allow us to live a carefree happiness; as his story has always shown, his doubts about heterosexual romance are almost as much as he doubts about Hollywood. But for this artist, doubt has never hindered his passion. For him, the past is more than just an excuse for a journey of nostalgia.

Through "Licorice Pizza", he screened the haze of frantically modified stories and half-forgotten memories-and pieced together something more specific, more painful, and more real than any American movie this year.

Rating: R, on language, sexual material and some drug use. Running time: 2 hours and 13 minutes. Broadcasting time: November 26th at Westwood Regency Village

The complete guide to family viewing

Get Screen Gab weekly recommendations, analysis, interviews, and irreverent discussions on TV and streaming movies that everyone is talking about.

You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.

Justin Chang has been a film critic for the Los Angeles Times since 2016. He is the author of the book "FilmCraft: Editing" and serves as the chairman of the National Film Critics Association and the secretary of the Los Angeles Film Critics Association.

More from the Los Angeles Times

Daniel Baldwin says brother Alec Baldwin became a scapegoat in the "Rust" shooting

When the original Ghostbusters reunited, one of them "almost burst into tears"

Olivia Munn is in a win-win situation. So she decided not to "play games" at all

John Artis, co-defendant of "Hurricane" Carter, in case the song that inspired Bob Dylan, died

Pick the perfect holiday gift at these 38 shops that can only be found in Los Angeles

California college students live in vans and hotels because of the backlash against campus housing plans

Former NBCUniversal Vice Chairman Ron Meyer will lead European film company Wild Bunch

'Eternals' beats'Clifford the Big Red Dog' at the box office

For "King Richard", Will Smith and Ann Jane Ellis took a close look at the lives and love of blacks

The ups and downs of the new movie music boom

Comment: "No straight line" is a timely celebration of the history of queer comics