At first glance, There Will Be Blood feels pre-fabricated for the “masterpiece†label. It’s anchored by a showy, overly-intense performance. It has elegant cinematography, and the courage to unfold at a languid, dream-like pace. Writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson won’t hurry along the story, letting his lead performers inhabit their characters at a turn of the century pace. The whole film has the majestic air of a Kubrick film and mainstream critical press are taking the bait – hook, line, and sinker.
Paul Thomas Anderson adapted a section of the Sinclair Lewis novel Oil!, focusing on Daniel Plainview, a malignant oil driller embodied by Daniel Day-Lewis, who builds a small empire of oil wells with all the honesty of a sub-prime mortgage lender. Anderson summons up his inner David Lean to create his epic, relying on landscape and sweat in equal measure.
There Will Be Blood opens with a wordless prologue. Working alone at the bottom of a silver mine, Daniel Plainview is all grit and intensity. A sudden, violent accident breaks his leg, and on sheer strength of his will, without uttering a single cry of pain, Plainview crawls out of the ground and drags himself across the wasteland. His first stop isn’t a doctor, or the saloon, it’s the assay office to register his claim.
That tells you all you need to know about Daniel Plainview. It’s a striking beginning, but it’s also the end of his character development. He emerges of the ground fully formed and oil-black, harder than the earth he rapaciously mines. From that moment onward, he is a titanic display of ego and will, willing to lie, murder, and manipulate without remorse to satisfy his greed. Plainview is a monster, perhaps a uniquely American monster, but his charisma is offset by the relentlessly one-dimensional nature of his greed. There are no surprises, and no mystery about what he’s truly capable of. Plainview a full bodied incarnation of evil, but he’s no more profound than a mustache-twirling villain who ties damsels to railroad tracks.
In the desert, the flat scrub plains can’t provide any perspective. Plainview is a monster without a nemesis, and without any points of reference, his evil nature is like a lone oil derrick – thrusting blackly into the sky, an eyesore, and nothing more. Where he winds up, wealthy and isolated, venomously lashing at the few people who dare to approach him, his completely without surprise. Plainview’s motives are opaque, and his morality is never explored. He must win, and everyone else must lose, and nothing else is satisfactory. The performance is showy, but there is nothing revelatory about it.
Film history is littered with performances that plunge into the darkest urges of humanity, and explore the phenomenon of unchecked greed. Pacino has two under his belt – Michael Corleone and Tony Montana. Both turn inhumanly monstrous and commit depraved acts of murder. The characters remain riveting to watch because their respective films patiently develop a moral code that leads to murder. Plainview never opens a window into his own soul; instead he takes an impish pleasure in denying anyone (including the audience) any knowledge of his inner workings.
Day-Lewis’ performance is all taut jaw, clenched throat, and Tom Selleck mustache. He’s hypnotically watchable, but is it performing? Is it acting or is it just his charisma? All of his memorable performances strike the same smoldering intensity, and most veer dangerously close to parody. Here, particularly, he seems stuck in the same gear as in Scorsese’s Gangs Of New York. If anything, his Bill the Butcher was the more hypnotic creation. Under Scorsese’s direction, Day-Lewis walked a fine line between seductive and reprehensible. More importantly, even though Bill’s motives were opaque, you were never quite sure when he would let things slide into disaster. Bill the Butcher knew that he could unleash hell on cue, but he also understood that his power lay in holding it back.
From the opening scene to the final, murderous image, the completely opaque Plainview is, ironically transparent. What you see is exactly what you get, and the lack of surprise becomes wearying. There are no flaws in the clarity to help shape or define it. Watching him is a grueling feat of endurance. There’s no enjoying the thrill of villainy. There’s no moral judgements made, nor is there a skewing of a moral compass to let us see the world through Plainview’s eyes.
Just like the Coen’s static No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood is just an icy facade, devoid of substance. In a year or two, after a dozen more critically annointed “masterpieces” have unrolled in theaters, Anderson’s epic won’t be more than a footnote.
I totally agree with your review, from beginning to end, you managed to put into words what I have been feeling since last night after watching the movie.
“From the opening scene to the final, murderous image, the completely opaque Plainview is, ironically transparent. What you see is exactly what you get, and the lack of surprise becomes wearying.”
Exactly. There is no evolution, no motives, no questions worth asking. He’s as we see him. And I also think that that movie did not deserve such a brilliant score. It was much deeper and evocative than any images or character that P.T.A. served us.
If you dug the score, the New Yorker had a great article on it (I think it’s by Alex Ross). It’s in the same issue with the Denby review of “How She Move”… I was going to link to it as well, but two articles from the same source was a bit much for me.
Let me know if you can’t find it and I’ll try to unearth a link to it, but it’s an excellent look at the Blood soundtrack.
Found it! Thank you, fantastic read
Only reinforces my perception of imbalance.
Excellent! If you still have the link handy, would you mind posting it here, just for reference? I really like that explanation of the soundtrack, and think it’s worthwhile reading.
Here you go
http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/musical/2008/02/04/080204crmu_music_ross
Hi Jeff. This is my post from rottentomatoes on the film:
I agree that without the political element of the film it feels a bit “hollowed out” – like a character study without a real antagonist besides the protagonist himself. Thus the changes in the character of Plainview are ephemeral and without any consistent frame of reference. Even greed doesn’t seem to fill the role of nemesis in any cogent way. This can be a strength in some contexts,drawing audiences into the main character’s dark inner psyche. But we never quite penetrate Plainview’s machinations in his twisted mind – we can only be enthralled by the artistry that roils on the surface. In many ways this is a postmodern tale, a barren epic that is empty and as existentially problematic as Albert Camus’ The Fall. And with such stories, the conclusion eludes us – as the absurd provides us with irresoluble enigmas. In “There Will Be Blood,” the dissolution between the “orphan” son and his “partner” is not quite the climax that resounds, and neither is the brutal dispersal of Eli Sunday the preacher by Daniel the oilman. Is Eli a loose symbolism for morality, crushed by the weight of capitalist competition? This is too simplistic, and indeed, unsatisfying. It would smack too much of a lecture by a red professor, not understanding the tides of history washing out the failed idealism of communism – a legacy itself steeped in blood and the faceless numbers of millions crushed pitilessly by a fervent near-religious idealism. No – “There Will be Blood” rings hollow – like a gunshot echoing out in the lone Texas hills, seeking a mark we are only left to ponder.
I enjoyed your review Jeff, but don’t completely agree about the film. I don’t think Daniel Plainview is a completely finished character in what you term as the “prologue.” When he is riding with his son (adopted or otherwise), it seems he is more than smug and self-satisfied in bonding with him. It does seem he cares about him, but the deafening of the child is almost too much for him to take, and he breaks bad a bit more morally. After this point, he will murder out of rage after finding out his “brother” was an imposter, and this is a change from his usual calculating modus operandi. Thus, I see “There Will Be Blood” as a bit more like a failed character study than a failed indictment of capitalism. I think DDL’s performance is enthralling, but you may be right in alluding that this may be charisma we are seeing, not legendary acting.
Thanks… I think you nailed it with the phrase “the changes in the character of Plainview are ephemeral and without any consistent frame of reference.”
It’s a different way of approaching the same concept. For a film with this epic of a scope, the character ‘changes’ are insignificant. There isn’t one moment of doubt in Plainview, or any moral dilemmas he faces where he’s torn between right or wrong, greed or kindness, nothing. His hardening process is like watching bones fossilize – yes, he changes by getting incrementally harder, but that doesn’t justify the hysterical adulation his performance is receiving.
A little charisma goes a long, long way… Clooney is in the same boat with Michael Clayton. Is that his acting skill, or just a supreme level of on-camera charisma? That was a much more engaging performance, because there were moments where he almost turned it off and showed the audiences a sense of despair.
I might be more partial to TWBB if it was a failed indictment of capitalism… even if it tried making some silly, liberal-Hollywood “no blood for oil” agenda. Or if it followed Eli Sunday, and how he fell to such a level that he would come grovelling to his life-long enemy for compassion. That level of desperation would have been much more engaging and thought-provoking.
I am yet to see Michael Clayton, but if you think Clooney was more engaging than DDL in TWBB, then that must be something to watch. Overall, I think you make some perceptive criticisms – the one that sticks in my mind is discerning between acting and charisma. Where do you draw the line? Why is it important? Is it important?
As a former actor (and one that was given some kudos), I must say it is difficult to say. As an actor, you do try to exude some charisma indirectly, and maybe unintentionally (I know this sounds contradictory) by entering into a different mental world that you place your character in. Your personna is transformed and, if you are into the role, your confidence and bravado (even for weak or meek characters) is elevated. Thus charisma and acting skill is hard to distill, nonetheless, I think you have hit on something. There is more to being a fine actor than audacity or an egomaniacal exuberance – to play a character with skill and perceptiveness you need to mold the character and direct his or her energies. In addition, this character must be separable from your own in order to qualify as “acting” proper – there is only a modicum of talent required to play yourself. This talent is typically self-confidence or bravado.
To switch gears, this is one gripe I have about Juno. I haven’t seen Ellen Page in an extended enough role to know if she is acting or just playing her own smartassey self. I guess she did play Kitty Pride in X-men 3, but this was a second-tier role in a feature film. What do you think about this? Do you think she deserves Oscar nomination for Best Actress based on what you’ve seen?
The thoughts on charisma are well taken – I’m glad someone has stabbed at answering it. Ed Norton doesn’t nearly have the screen charisma of DDL, but he turns in remarkable (and remarkably different) performances in almost everything he does. Brad Pitt has that charisma, and while his success level varies, his performances are rarely re-treads of earlier work. There’s a bunch of examples that elude me at the moment, but I guess it’s more of a true performance achievement to me when an actor is playing something unexpected, then when he plays it safe.
I just watched Michael Clayton again last week, and was surprised at how well it holds together. It’s not perfect, but it’s solid. Clooney is pretty successful at playing against his type – he makes the moments of defeat and anguish resonate in you and feel palpable. Along the way, the film has a few grace notes, or spots where the scenes turn from what you expect into something a little more penetrating into Clooney’s character. I won’t spoil them here, but even the second time around, those were the moments that stuck with me. Again, it’s hard to tell if it’s acting, screenplay, or charisma, but overall he’s a much more resonant and multi-dimensional character, that I found much more intriguing to watch.
As for Juno, I haven’t watched all of it, so I can’t comment with any real authority. But what I’ve watched felt a little too unreal for me – like we’re watching the fantasy, heroically perfect 15 year old girl that Diablo Cody wanted to be. I agree with you completely that there’s no gauge of whether her character is a performance, or just an extension of self.
Does she deserve a nomination? Not hardly. But the Oscars aren’t about a quantifiably ‘best’ of anything… If they were, the historical list of winners would be radically different. It’s more of “favorite of the moment” than unqualified skill. DDL is almost a lock to win best actor, but three years from now, nobody is going to be watching ‘Blood’ at all.
I liked your examples of actors who are interesting to examine from a charisma vs. acting talent perspective. Ed Norton is one of my favorite actors because he can go from making your skin crawl to a swarmy nobody wannabe to criminal genius to genuine niceguy to misunderstood silent type. I’ve always thought Brad Pitt was a better actor than I expected of him – he doesn’t seem to get too sucked in to all the female adoration and usually yields solid performances (Fight Club and Seven are among my favorites). I like Clooney in his more eccentric roles – O Brother Where Art Thou? was simply masterful and unexpected. I’ll have to give Michael Clayton a look. As far as TWBB goes – I think the movie can last because of its interesting cinematography . Some period pieces, like The Last Emperor for example, hold some moderate interest for this value in the main. But a cinematic classic, I think you are right in thinking it is not.