
Paul Thomas Anderson's Inherent Vice, the first ever cinematic adaption of a novel by notoriously reclusive writer Thomas Pynchon, is a meandering, sometimes incoherent, unnecessarily complicated, halfhearted counterculture comedy. It's set in and around L.A. during the summer of 1970 and it combines film noir with the end of the psychedelic California dream. It features dozens of familiar faces in support of Joaquin Phoenix as private investigator -and incessant pothead- Larry "Doc" Sportello.
Doc is in nearly every scene. He's a hippie gumshoe lamenting the end of the sixties who, over the course of the movie, takes on three separate cases that eventually intertwine in an overly complex manner. I'm not going to even try to explain it all. Let's just say it's a series of scenes where Doc talks to a colorful collection of characters that epitomize the era -some friendly, others not so much- where every clue leads to yet another person, until we end up pretty much right where we started.
I'm not that familiar with Pynchon's work, but it does seem like a good fit for Anderson. I'm sure there are fans of the novel that might enjoy the movie more than I did. It might help if you don't have to spend too much time trying to figure out who the hell everyone is and exactly how they relate to Doc. The director certainly doesn't spoon feed any info to the viewer. The plot is Raymond Chandler by way of Hunter S. Thompson. It's like a weird mix of Howard Hawk's The Big Sleep and Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye. Only not as good as either of those films.
I've always admired Anderson's eye. He sets up shots beautifully, frames scenes with meticulous care, and moves his camera around gracefully. He fills the screen with historically accurate minutia (check out Doc's turquoise rotary telephone) without overdoing it in the costume or set department. It doesn't scream 1970s in the same way that American Hustle does, for example. But you know a movie isn't very compelling when you are more interested in the shot choices and décor than in the story being told. Anderson has a decent track record. He's made some really good movies like Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch-Drunk Love and the Best Picture Oscar winner There Will Be Blood. But lately he's been off his game. The Master was disappointing and Inherent Vice is even more so.
Phoenix does what he can in the role of Doc. But he's written as too subdued and introverted to be any fun to be around. Especially since this character completely dominates the movie. Josh Brolin fares better as the orally fixated LAPD officer nicknamed Bigfoot. He at least brings some personality to the role. In many scenes he has either a Popsicle or a banana in his mouth and (without realizing how it looks) sucks, licks and nibbles at them like a hooker giving a blow job. The joke, I suppose, being that this homophobic, racist asshole who proudly states that he spends his days violating people's civil rights, is subconsciously gay. Though just why that's funny is beyond me. On the contrary, I find it borderline insulting to gay people.
The pace is too plodding for a comedy and, as demonstrated above, the humor is quite juvenile. The cast of colorful characters breeze in and out of Doc's life in a jarring way. If the intention was to make the viewer feel like they've gotten a contact high, it succeeds. The situations the eternally stoned “detective” encounters aren't explained. You might want to take notes like Doc himself does when interviewing people for his “cases”. Or, better yet, you can just smoke a little grass yourself, sit back and let the movie wash over you. You might enjoy it more that way, although to be honest, I can't say it increased my enjoyment by much.


















