Mooby
Joined Jan 2000
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Reviews15
Mooby's rating
While it may sound naive or fleeting to some, Magnolia, without QUESTION, is hands down the greatest thing I've ever seen. That's it. I'm sorry, but it's true. Paul Thomas Anderson's paramount masterpiece is the tip of Mount Everest when it comes to filmmaking, in both technical and storytelling aspects; he delivers a three hour saga about the relationships between varying parents and children, the messes they've created, and the measures it will take to make amends.
The plot has been kept in shrouded secrecy for many reasons, namely one of them that it would take about fifteen minutes to give even the briefest of synopsi. There is so much going on, so much to look at, to feel, that a jaded reviewer would be damning himself and the reader if he even attempted to lay down the story. But it does concern nine people in the San Fernando Valley on a particularly dank (and particularly apocalyptic) day. But you already knew that.
One of the many things that makes Magnolia flawfree is the incredible crescendo it manages to maintain for its entire running time. Scene by scene, second by second, Jon Brion's score and Aimee Mann's songs interact in perfect synchronicity with the rising emotions in the film, more and more with each following frame. Whether the situation be tense, happy, tragic, sad, mean, or something in between, the entire thing piles on more and more clumps of cinematic clay, propelling the story into the next region of genius. And with the cast, PT leaves nothing to chance. Everyone (EVERYONE!) in this picture gives 110% and more at all times. While most people will single out Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, or Bill Macy as the stars of this movie, the ones who stole MY heart were the anomalous couple of John C. Reilly and Melora "Goddess of All Things Acting" Walters. Never before have two people seemed so equally desparate for love in such different roles. Walters not only stole my heart, but the whole f***ing movie as well. Her turn as an abused, lonely, good-hearted cokehead is one of the best female characters of the last twenty years. But, I digress . ..
Magnolia is a painting with colors your mind can't decipher right away, feelings that aren't easily labeled. This is why, I think, many patrons of the film have left it in bad will, because in an age of eighty-five minute Christmas gifts (not too much to think about, wrapped nicely, and pretty much predictable), filmgoers as a mass have been spoiled and cheated of films that make them *FEEL* something. Magnolia doesn't get you with clever ploys or snarky editing. It's wonder doesn't lie in its irony or one-liners. You won't find any overt sarcasm here. No, Magnolia hooks you because it makes you feel something. Its sincerity is so raw, and so spot on, that a usually sarcastic, skewered moviegoer doesn't have anything to latch on to other than its unflinching brilliance. It doesn't give any room for people to criticize it for its quality (or lack thereof), so people end up complaining about the length, the lack of immediacy, or the unconvential symbolism (ahem!).
In the end though, Magnolia is nothing more than Paul Thomas Anderson's love letter to people like him. People who just plain like to watch perfection blossom right before their very eyes.
*****
". . . You may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with you."
"When the sunshine ain't workin', the good Lord be a rainin'."
The plot has been kept in shrouded secrecy for many reasons, namely one of them that it would take about fifteen minutes to give even the briefest of synopsi. There is so much going on, so much to look at, to feel, that a jaded reviewer would be damning himself and the reader if he even attempted to lay down the story. But it does concern nine people in the San Fernando Valley on a particularly dank (and particularly apocalyptic) day. But you already knew that.
One of the many things that makes Magnolia flawfree is the incredible crescendo it manages to maintain for its entire running time. Scene by scene, second by second, Jon Brion's score and Aimee Mann's songs interact in perfect synchronicity with the rising emotions in the film, more and more with each following frame. Whether the situation be tense, happy, tragic, sad, mean, or something in between, the entire thing piles on more and more clumps of cinematic clay, propelling the story into the next region of genius. And with the cast, PT leaves nothing to chance. Everyone (EVERYONE!) in this picture gives 110% and more at all times. While most people will single out Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, or Bill Macy as the stars of this movie, the ones who stole MY heart were the anomalous couple of John C. Reilly and Melora "Goddess of All Things Acting" Walters. Never before have two people seemed so equally desparate for love in such different roles. Walters not only stole my heart, but the whole f***ing movie as well. Her turn as an abused, lonely, good-hearted cokehead is one of the best female characters of the last twenty years. But, I digress . ..
Magnolia is a painting with colors your mind can't decipher right away, feelings that aren't easily labeled. This is why, I think, many patrons of the film have left it in bad will, because in an age of eighty-five minute Christmas gifts (not too much to think about, wrapped nicely, and pretty much predictable), filmgoers as a mass have been spoiled and cheated of films that make them *FEEL* something. Magnolia doesn't get you with clever ploys or snarky editing. It's wonder doesn't lie in its irony or one-liners. You won't find any overt sarcasm here. No, Magnolia hooks you because it makes you feel something. Its sincerity is so raw, and so spot on, that a usually sarcastic, skewered moviegoer doesn't have anything to latch on to other than its unflinching brilliance. It doesn't give any room for people to criticize it for its quality (or lack thereof), so people end up complaining about the length, the lack of immediacy, or the unconvential symbolism (ahem!).
In the end though, Magnolia is nothing more than Paul Thomas Anderson's love letter to people like him. People who just plain like to watch perfection blossom right before their very eyes.
*****
". . . You may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with you."
"When the sunshine ain't workin', the good Lord be a rainin'."
The acting is absolutely horrible, dominated by annoying and seemingly endless *SEX* scenes! That's right, you heard me, there are countless scenes of graphic coitus in this "film"! It really shocked me. And it has nothing to do with Star Trek! If you're a fan of Gene Roddenbury, this is not your movie. It's just a huge slap in the face to a city with as much spark as Dallas.
*
*
Not only was every episode meticulously crafted into thirty minutes of ironic terror, but the forces behind it always remained credible enough to deliver star-studded episodes. Jon Kassir's Crypt Keeper remains one of the more sacred pop culture figures of recent years (when's the last time you saw someone trashing the Keeper? He's an icon for chrissakes), and while some of the stories may not have been on caliber with others (most of the "England" episodes never touched the Demi Moore/"if I can't have you, no one will" one), in the end, when the smoke had cleared and the show was over, you looked at it with a refreshing zing, as if you had embraced being had.
Bringing back the EC stories wasn't a simple task. Speilberg tried it with "Amazing Stories" and gave up after two long years. The "Vault Of Horror" got a limited run in 94, but failed. But Tales always stuck around, on its own terms, and gave up swinging.
NP: The Bobcat Goldthwait episode: only animated Tales ever: takeoff...Three Little Pigs
Bringing back the EC stories wasn't a simple task. Speilberg tried it with "Amazing Stories" and gave up after two long years. The "Vault Of Horror" got a limited run in 94, but failed. But Tales always stuck around, on its own terms, and gave up swinging.
NP: The Bobcat Goldthwait episode: only animated Tales ever: takeoff...Three Little Pigs