MAGNOLIA (1999), Dir. by Paul Thomas Anderson

There’s no two ways about it: MAGNOLIA is a complicated mess. The lovechild of a coked-out marriage between Paul Thomas Anderson’s vision of a contemporary American epic and his own personal memoir of growing up in sleazy Hollywood suburbs - it’s ambitious, frenetic, and at many times disorienting. But in spite of this, central to the elaborate web of characters that PTA delicately weaves is an unlikely humanity that harkens back to BOOGIE NIGHTS, his initial splash into Hollywood fame. Undoubtedly, it’s a swing – watching MAGNOLIA feels like being pulled by the collar through the labyrinthian hallways of PTA’s genius technical process and his own dark personal psychology. It’s a dazzling formal sensation, a complex house of cards that feels carefully constructed and fragile to the slightest twitch, ultimately building to an emotional show-stopping apex.

While impressive in its construction, the seams of MAGNOLIA often feel rough. There’s no better example of what it’s like to feel the abbreviation of a story through its editing than here, where 3 hours is simply not enough to contain the ambition of ten principal storylines. It’s not as though there’s only one right answer as to what to trim, either. Taking away from the weakest story, for example - the already condensed narrative of John C. Reilly’s bumbling encounter with Melora Walters’ damsel in distress - might steal from the film’s sentimental charm. Or, removing from it’s thickest chapter would rob the audience of what is perhaps Tom Cruise’s best career performance. 

One gets the feeling that the mosaic that makes up this film very nearly masterful, but falls fatally short of being perfect. To critics of PTA, this is damning… but if you’re willing to get swept up in the magic of such a talented ensemble at the helm of a clear virtuoso, MAGNOLIA’s faults play into its charm. By interjecting the epics of his hero Robert Altman with the youthful Scorsese-esque energy that first propelled PTA into the zeitgeist, Anderson fashions a film that feels like an bold announcement of bravura, or maybe a demand to be taken seriously. With hindsight, the past 25 years of PTA’s career have proven his claim to greatness, and his (relatively) more reserved approach suggests that MAGNOLIA’s bold proclamation may have been a cocktail of hubris, worthy confidence, and a dash of insecurity - after all, how else would a director this young be willing to be this nude in just their second major film? That alone is admirable, and cements MAGNOLIA as a relic of a moment in Hollywood where a young talent’s full emergence into filmmaking felt like a personal experience in which the audience was invited to share in. Call it over ambitious, complicated, or simply masterful, it’d be tough for any viewer to not at least be a bit seduced by the mess that is MAGNOLIA, and all of the endearing compassion that comes with it.