Inherent Vice would be a landmark in movie history even if it weren’t good. More than just an adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s 2009 novel—indeed the first official Pynchon adaptation, period—the film engages with the author’s literature on the whole, attempting a filmic analogue to his virtuosic prose. Arguably the James Joyce of postmodern American fiction, Pynchon created a new kind of epic novel with V. (1963) and Gravity’s Rainbow (1973), combining literary references high and low, probing considerations of postwar history, goofy counterculture humor (frequently about drugs and sex), and flights of formal experimentation. His books can be overwhelming on a first read, as they feature dozens (sometimes even hundreds) of characters and interweave multiple conspiracy plots, some of which touch on real historic events. How could one make a movie that conveys the depth of Pynchon’s literature, to say nothing of his polyphonous language?
If Vice seems at first like a less impressive act of reconstruction than Anderson’s last two films, maybe that’s because the performances are so attention grabbing. Anderson hasn’t seemed this in love with actors since Boogie Nights; almost everyone who appears onscreen gets the chance to be distinctive and funny. Bridges’s costumes make the characters look a bit like they stepped out of a Warner Bros. cartoon (in fact many of the designs are modeled after Pynchon’s descriptions), and each player fits right into his or her outfit. There’s a uniform exaggeratedness to the performances, which stand in fascinating contrast to the hyperrealist settings. But though Pynchon’s characters might look and talk like they came from cartoons, most of them harbor secret longings or regrets. As Doc, Joaquin Phoenix finds the right balance of innocence and Groucho Marx-like knowingness, and his versatile work goes a long way in establishing the movie’s slippery tone. Josh Brolin is just as good as Christian “Bigfoot” Bjornsen, the right-wing cop who antagonizes Doc the way a high school jock picks on the dorky kid in class. His performance in particular gains in depth from one viewing to the next; there’s a melancholy quality to it that isn’t immediately apparent.
Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
