Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1970s opening scene, a photo day at a high school in the San Fernando Valley of Southern California. “Licorice pizza.”
Photographer’s assistant Alana (Alanaheim) walks up and down a long line of students waiting in the sun outside the gymnasium. She rarely sees any of them, but one notices himself. Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) keeps an eye on her, even if she does everything she can to ignore him. He’s a 15-year-old actor and she’s in her twenties, but his attempted pickups aren’t completely mature, they’re sweet and direct, and make her smile reluctantly.
“You’re like the little Robert Goulet or Dean Martin,” she says.
Anderson’s cameras go around them as they walk, and there are few moments that perfectly match the magic of their opening, but “licorice pizza” doesn’t stop pinball in the sunny infectious ditch. .. Anderson’s ninth movie, his most shy, most affectionate, and perhaps what I most wanted to see shortly after it was over, was a fascinating loose love letter to his youth valley. It’s an ode to the pre-digitization era that’s gone, and a complete foot.
“Licorice Pizza” has been named after a local record store since it never actually appeared in the movie. But the lack of a vinyl store only enhances the feeling that the light air of Anderson’s film belongs to the time when it’s gone. I don’t think the 70’s was that long ago. But that decade is almost half a century away from today. The distance from the 70’s to the flappers and Speakeasy of the 20’s is the same.
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With rich details, vibrant graffiti, a soundtrack featuring David Bowie and Blood, Sweat & Tears, “Licorice Pizza” is reminiscent of a calmer and chambolic time. It’s certainly nostalgic, but there are some that remind us of the shortcomings of that era. For example, the spell on that opening shot is broken with a bat slap from an older man.
Anderson follows the crossing relationship between Gary and Alana in response to the characteristic events of the time, such as the gas crisis and the dawn of the waterbed. Alana refuses to accept Gary as a boyfriend, but they have a bond that is difficult to articulate — friends, business partners, and perhaps soulmates — despite the nasty gaps in their age. Keep turning each other. In certain movies of the rich 70’s, like any other love, their romance is out of date.
The entire movie, shot at 35mm, feels like an assortment of memories and old, perhaps decorated stories. Licorice Pizza, full of comic sets and deviations, is based on the anecdote of producer and actor Gary Goetzman, best known as Tom Hanks’ producer partner. The fact that Hollywood is just above the hill is a constant source of conspiracy and farce. Sean Penn will replace William Holden. Greatly over-the-top Bradley Cooper enthusiastically plays Barbra Streisand’s boyfriend Jon Peters. Benny Safdie will later be volunteered by local politician Alana. As a portrait of an older man to Alana, they make Gary look sweeter and a real exception.
“Licorice Pizza” was a amiable and sometimes satirical Odyssey with an oversized character reminiscent of Elaine May’s film. Rarely lost outside of California, it’s a golden detour for Anderson, whose subjectivity, mood, and tone appeal are endlessly unpredictable. As a love story, it’s with his previous movie “Phantom Thread”, or the former “Punch-Drunk Club” (featuring Cooper’s late father, Anderson’s regular Philip Seymour Hoffman, selling mattresses). It doesn’t change much. A waterbed made by my son with “Licoris Pizza”). Self-promotion Gary could also be some junior version of Anderson’s past movie hack star. A gambler at Philip Baker Hall in “Hard Eight”. Mark Wahlberg’s porn star in “Boogie Nights”. Daniel Day-Lewis’s “There Will Be Blood” Oilman.
But “licorice pizza” feels like something else, like the culmination of Anderson’s deconstruction stage. Anderson is a master filmmaker of his vastest epics (since “Boogie Nights”, “Magnolia”, “There Will Be Blood”, “Master”). ) More and more transitions to humble and organic little movies. Anderson, who is always a personal filmmaker, seems to be steadily leaving. His fingerprints in his film are less emphasized, but more ubiquitous. (Anderson is his own cinematographer here, as he did in “Phantom Red”. This time with Michael Baumann.) With cameo appearances such as Maya Rudolph (Anderson’s wife) and John C. Riley. “Licorice pizza” may be derived. From the Getzman story, it feels like Anderson’s home movie made with friends and family.
“Is this real or real?” After an instant stunt outside Encino’s Tailo’the Cock bar restaurant, as filmmaker Rex Blau, asks the vague Tom Waits.
However, it is the performances of Heim and Hoffman that give the “licorice pizza” its credibility the most. Neither has ever appeared in a movie before, and their fresh presence inspires the movie. The 18-year-old Hoffman, who appears in Anderson’s films, has obvious pain, but he all has his own integrity. Even more revelations are Heim, the youngest of the three sisters of the San Fernando Valley, who make up the band Heim. (Fan Anderson shot some music videos for them.) Gary already knows himself, but Alana understands it. What Heim can do, such as maneuvering a bold rear escape with a moving van, seems to expand only when “licorice pizza” turns a fun way home.
The MGM release, Licorice Pizza, has been rated R by the American Film Institute for language, sexual material, and some substance use. Execution time: 133 minutes. 4 out of 4 stars.
MPAA definition for R: Limited. Children under the age of 17 must be accompanied by a parent or guardian.
Follow AP film writer Jake Coil on Twitter. http://twitter.com/jakecoyleAP
Copyright 2021 AP communication. all rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without permission.
Review: Sunny, hairy “Licoris Pizza” absorbs the 70’s | Entertainment
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