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Magnolia

Film Review by John Long

I'm not a fit judge whether Scientologist/actor Tom Cruise looks handsomest, as some insist, with shorter hair than he has in Magnolia. In any case, this aging teen star who sues anyone who hints he's gay seems, nevertheless, to have no religious scruples about playing a woman-hating sex guru with hilarious pump-it-to-ya hips. magnolia3.jpg - 6.75 K Magnolia writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson

I'd expected Magnolia to be set in the South. But no, this helter-skeltered, puzzling parade of haunting vignettes takes place in California's San Fernando Valley. Though the story line is somewhat weak, the acting is not.

In fact, no actor or actress should miss this film's dramatic portrayals. They're Boogie Nights maker's, Paul Thomas Anderson's surreal visions of family life failures—with emotionally wrenching scenes that juxtapose common situations like unrequited parental love and dying.

Magnolia is not exactly Family Values friendly. Still, it isn't a story entirely without hope, albeit a meager thread.

Anderson's wandering focus—nearly three hours in length-- becomes a deeply saddened one in which the camera tantalizingly captures all. He's a master of scene-making, and in spite of the film's heavy-hearted themes, there's also some rip-snorting comedy, tragedy's other face.

Jason Robards, a dying dad, laughs in his own gruff fashion. Julianne Moore plays his wandering wife with an amazing talent for tantrums. Perhaps it is her studied composure hiding unbridled rage which makes her outbursts pure works of art.

Stanley Spector chillingly captures a brainy child, while the nasty sex guru, Cruise, mouths vulgarities on his cable-TV show, Seduce and Destroy, that are wholly unbecoming to a Scientologist.

magnolia5.jpg - 17.87 K Tom Cruise and Jason Robards

Melora Walters, the estranged daughter, puts both her best feet forward as an actress. Magnolia is a meditation on how each of us—though connected to others—is, in the last analysis, a loner. Though our daily paths take us through the lives of friends and relatives, and though we are seemingly connected to them, Magnolia plays up the down-side of human contact, especially as either sudden or protracted deaths occur.

The film's opening scenes are a hodgepodge of crack ups—newsy clips demonstrating how the minions of heartless chance intrude too carelessly on the "best laid schemes of mice and men."

Without maudlin sentimentality, Anderson allows his audiences to contemplate the state of their own lives, to wonder how much casual cruelty often moves unaware and unremarked during their interactions with others.

Among the oddest and most gripping scenes in Magnolia is the covering of Burbank, California with frogs. Though a flashback to Moses' famed curse on Pharaoh's Egypt, Moses, natch, is nowhere to be seen, nor is Anderson's reason for providing this startling spectacle. Even so, it works nicely to put a cap on disorders that appear to have no more reasonable end in sight.

Related Features from the GayToday Archive:
Review: Boogie Nights

Review: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

Review: The Corruptor

Related Sites:
Magnolia: Official Site
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This haunting film ends in a never-to-be-forgotten way. It will be remembered most, I predict, for its brilliance as a study of human beings interacting. Anderson was prepared to take his chances at turning off viewers because of Magnolia's length, but his film seldom lags. Visually, it is extraordinarily inventive and arresting. Musically, it is a tour de force with Aimee Mann's songs pointedly used as backgrounds for its principal scenes.

This is a high-energy movie, engaging because it effectively explores the politics of the personal.



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