Paul Thomas Anderson’s adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s novel, Inherent Vice is a labyrinth with no way out; the more you think about its plot and try to piece together all of its clues, the more the solution eludes you.
The point is to become immersed in its conventional setup and the lunacy of its journey through a mad and corrupt world. The film unfolds like a ’70s conspiracy thriller where everything leads “straight to the top” (think Chinatown), except that Inherent Vice offers no solution to the mystery or reprieve from the paranoia.
Doc (Joaquin Phoenix), a private investigator, is looking into the disappearance of his ex-girlfriend’s millionaire boyfriend, who has a girlfriend, who also has a boyfriend. The story has even more friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, non-friends, and people who are just downright unfriendly. Oh, and things get much more convoluted than that.
The film also jumps from one moment to the next without disclosing how we got from point A to point B. Anderson’s movie seems to be about as stoned as its characters and as hungover as the time period it depicts. This is deliberate: regardless of whether or not you agree with Anderson’s unconventional vision, you have to marvel at the uncompromising nature of his intent.
What were we talking about? I don’t know. Forget it.
Inherent Vice features an enormous ensemble cast who play exaggerated caricatures of 1970s archetypes in a dense plot with hippies, prostitutes, drug dealers, dirty cops, and rich men gone crazy, creating a hallucinatory world full of distinct individuals (and memorably over-the-top performances from Josh Brolin, Benicio Del Toro, and Martin Short).
In order to enjoy the film you have to get lost in each individual moment and not worry about where the plot is heading.
The viewer is never given a gateway into any of the characters’ experiences through stylistic flamboyance, as in other films about druggies. Anderson avoids point-of-view shots or any subjective visuals but rather plants his camera down and simply observes these whack-jobs. He’s creating a sense of time and place where the characters are trying to hold onto a lifestyle that is fleeting.
If taken as a plot-driven procedural, Inherent Vice would be a frustrating mess with one-dimensional characters and underdeveloped plotting. Taken as a period piece, it fascinates in almost every moment.
The film initially immerses you with its genre conventions, which recall the paranoid thrillers of the ’70s, before it subverts their formulae and leaves you lost in its insane world without any coherent resolution.
By the time the credits came, when I was airlifted out from the labyrinth, I found myself eager to return. There has to be an answer to the mystery. There has to be someone at the top pulling all the strings — right? Or has the movie just made me as paranoid and stoned as hippies losing touch in the ’70s?
