“The doctor is busy.” “He didn’t look busy.” “…he’s thinking.” Image via YouTube

After watching Inherent Vice, I asked myself two very different questions:

1) Why would I watch this?

2) Why wouldn’t I watch this?

Sometimes, I found myself asking both questions at the exact same time.

With Inherent Vice, Paul Thomas Anderson uses his well-earned creative freedom to go down some very strange paths. But with the overlapping stories, Los Angeles setting, and 1970s fashion, Paul Thomas Anderson has never been more at home than he is in Inherent Vice.

PTA loves collaborating with the same actors again and again, but I think he has finally found his muse in Joaquin Phoenix, who has shown that with this and The Master, he is really good at playing very eccentric dudes. In Inherent Vice, Phoenix plays Doc Sportello, who I guess is a doctor because he seems to go to a doctor’s office everyday for work. During his off hours, he moonlights as a private detective. If you want a good idea of who Doc is, just picture if The Dude was around in the right time and place. Doc is a loud and proud hippie during a time when it was okay to chain smoke joints in front of a police officer. While lounging in his beachside bungalow, Doc’s ex-lady Shasta (Katherine Waterson) pays him a visit. She needs him to help foil a half-baked extortion plot involving her rich new boyfriend. After much explanation and little hesitation, Doc offers his services.

Now, why would Doc stick his neck out for somebody who broke his heart? That is one of the many mysteries that lies within Inherent Vice. This is a film noir in which one of the biggest mysteries concerns what we might possibly do for love. This film is all over the map. Normally, that would be a bad thing. But here, that is precisely what makes it all work.

While Inherent Vice is not Paul Thomas Andeson’s masterpiece, it feels like years of watching his films could better train you and prepare you for this one. This is an ensemble piece where big names drift in and out. Some come back, and others disappear without a trace. For some reason, the narrator (Joanna Newsom), has no real stake in the events at all. She serves sometimes as an audience surrogate, and other times as a spiritual advisor, as if she appears ignorant but knows some deep truth that she refuses to reveal. Many great stories rely on unreliable narrators. This story needs one, because there is not a single reliable character to be found here.

I have not read Inherent Vice, nor anything else by Thomas Pynchon (although I did once tell my professor that I read The Crying of Lot 49), but I can say with utmost confidence that Paul Thomas Anderson is the perfect choice to direct this. Anderson, who is an LA native, treats his home city not as this bright, glamorous place, but rather as a hodgepodge of outlaws and misfits who all want their chance in the spotlight. Think of what would happen if L.A. Confidential, Chinatown, and Muholland Dr. were all thrown into a blender together. This is a version of Los Angeles where everybody eats pizza and nobody drives on any freeways. Here I thought everybody in LA was sipping on kale smoothies while driving down the 101 all the time.

Inherent Vice looks and feels like the kind of film that isn’t made that much anymore. Thanks to the beautiful, grainy film stock, Inherent Vice doesn’t even look like it was made in 2014. It is a film nerd’s paradise, and a period piece that actually looks like a relic of that period. Too many filmmakers try to shoot period pieces in digital and when that happens, they end up with Public Enemies.

This also happens to be the funniest movie that PTA has ever made, and this is the same guy who made one movie with Adam Sandler and another where Joaquin Phoenix farts in front of Philip Seymour Hoffman. In one scene, Doc screams after looking at a picture. The trailer does not do it justice. The way that Doc tries to act like nothing happened is comic genius. Each character, from Doc to Brolin’s scummy LAPD officer (Josh Brolin) are so cartoonish to the point of farce. But then, something will pop up like a scene in which Doc and Shasta run down Sunset Boulevard on a rainy day. It is a beautiful scene, and a reminder that all these characters are just lonely people in a big city who are looking for love.

Honestly, I do not think this review, or one viewing alone, can do this film justice. Characters ask a lot of questions, and then other characters question those questions. Sometimes, it is exhausting. Other times, it is exhilarating. This is the kind of film noir that constantly questions why it is even trying to solve a mystery in the first place. But let’s quickly go back to those questions I posed earlier:

1) Why would you watch this movie? It’s a long, muddled mess. There’s a lot more talking than action and it is really hard to keep track of what is going on. Plus, Katherine Waterson is only naked once.

2) Why wouldn’t you watch this movie? Once is good enough. Also, this film embraces confusion and chaos like few others do dare to. It just goes for it. If True Detective and Serial have taught us anything this year, it is that the clues and the intrigue are often even more fascinating than the end result.

If you want, you can get lost in the forest and have a panic attack. Or, you can wander around and admire the trees. Or better yet, you can chop down all the trees and complain about them on Reddit.

Brain Farts From The Edge:

• I really hope Josh Brolin scores an Oscar nomination for this. I want a Josh Brolin pull string doll that shouts, “molto panacako!” over and over again.
• I spent about six months in Southern California, and never once did I have a frozen banana. Between Inherent Vice and Arrested Development, I guess this is a part of LA culture that I somehow missed. Oh well. FOMO
• Cameo of the year: Martin Short running with his pants down.
• Is it really that easy to just become a detective? I should have started doing this years ago.
• With Inherent Vice and Nightcrawler, 2014 has been a great year for making LA look really cool.
• Rarely is this question asked: why doesn’t Jena Malone get more work?
• There is an amazing moment that happens towards the end of any given Paul Thomas Anderson film. The end credits are about to roll, and you know that it is going to end abruptly. Boom. Cut to black. Immediately, the audience erupts in chatter. Not because they are rude and anxious, but because they are confused and stunned all at once. This is what makes the shared cinematic experience so special.
• Time to see this thing again. And write a better review.

Can you spot all the quirky things about this photo? Image via Hollywood Reporter

Zach Braff has only directed two films in the past ten years, yet he has somehow managed to piss everybody off. Maybe it’s time he gets out of Hollywood for a bit. Maybe he’s getting too much sun, and it’s time to go back and smell the fresh Turnpike air in New Jersey.

Braff’s latest film, Wish I Was Here, plays like a training montage of indie cliches. It’s like they just wanted to point their camera at a bunch of objects for 106 minutes and yell, “look how quirky this is! Do you feel the quirks yet? Do you?!” I could make a list of every little cliche, but that could fill up an entire review.

If you want your character to be at least remotely likable, maybe it’s a bad idea to introduce them screaming at a dog. That’s how Braff decides to introduce Aidan Bloom, a part-time actor, part-time Secular Jew stuck in Hollywood limbo. He hasn’t gotten an acting gig in a long time, as everybody likes to remind him, and the only thing holding him together is his half-Jewish wife (Kate Hudson), who slaves away at a miserable day job. We know it’s miserable because her office is shot with a green tint. Meanwhile, Aidan’s father (Mandy Patinkin) is paying to send the kids to Jewish school, but he is stricken with cancer and can no longer pay for it.

By the way, did I mention that there were Jews involved yet? I feel like Zach Braff just grabbed a “Jews for Dummies” book and wrote down whatever words he could remember. A dog named Kugel? Haha good one! I really wanted to like Wish I Was Here, because I always feel like sticking up for the films with overtly Jewish themes. However, Wish I Was Here manages to take all of the mystique surrounding Hashem and turns it into something skin deep. Think of what would happen if A Serious Man was made with the intent of being a mainstream hit.

Now, what I really loved about a film like A Serious Man is that I saw aspects of my own life and upbringing in it. Remember, this is a film that’s set in Minnesota in 1967, so it couldn’t be any farther from my own life. Instead, Wish I Was Here relies on the Wise Rabbi trope too heavily. Plus, there is a scene where Aidan reads a poem that he claims was his mother’s favorite. It is an excerpt from T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock. Besides being a brilliant poet, Eliot was also an infamous anti-Semite. If you’ve ever had Jewish parents before, then you’ll know that any artist with at least the slightest whiff of Jew-hatin’ is not to be forgiven (mainly Mel Gibson).

The point is that Wish I Was Here is nowhere near as authentic as it claims to be. After his daughter shaves off her own hair, Aidan takes her to buy a wig that’s “unique and amazing like you.” He never, you know, talks to the kid and tells her it’s not the end of the world. Instead, she’s treated like some kind of circus freak just because she decided to shave her hair off. The only person here who seems to have a real reaction to anything is Mandy Patinkin, who truly sells every single line he is given. Josh Gad is also a scene stealer here. And poor Kate Hudson. She deserves a comeback where she doesn’t have to repeat the phrase “half-boner” as much as she does here.

I found myself yelling “shut up!” at the screen multiple times. Braff expects us to be moved just because there is sickness and just because there is triumph of the human spirit. You don’t have to force it so much, especially when Mandy Patinkin could have just worn a bunch of wigs and played every single character. Wish I Was Here has a few, truly nice laughs, and a few emotional payoffs that work but overall, it feels like emotional manipulation gone awry. Just when you think it has come to an original revelation, it contains an ocean metaphor. Wish I Was Here could have been a lot smarter if it didn’t think its audience was so dumb.

Brain Farts From The Edge

• Seriously, that’s the best B-story you could get? A sexual harassment case that never elevates? Like I said, Kate Hudson deserves a better comeback.
• It seems like Leslie David Baker (a.k.a. Stanley Hudson from The Office) is doomed to tiny cameos for the rest of his life. Bummer.
• If you’re Quentin Tarantino or Armando Iannucci, swearing can be an art form.
• I could see Sam Rockwell in Braff’s role.
• Speaking of Sam Rockwell, remember that part in Seven Psychopaths where he tells Colin Farrell that his screenplay should abandon the story and all the characters just go to the desert and chill? And then that happens in the movie of Seven Psychopaths and it’s a disaster because a movie can’t end that way? Well, that same thing happens in Wish I Was Here. Sudden, contemplative Joshua Tree retreats don’t work, bro.
• That part with the jar of contact lenses? I like you, Zach Braff, but when did your writing devolve to eighth grade visual metaphors?
• One last thing: I don’t care what any of you say, I’m going to continue loving Garden State. I haven’t watched it in a while, but I hope it holds up.
• Credit where credit is due: Braff attempted to take a complicated idea and pushed it into the mainstream. It is a creative risk for sure. I guess America just isn’t ready for Rabbis on segways.

Into the mist. Image via Huffington Post

Nightcrawler is one of those films that feels like a miniature miracle: both brooding and action packed, it’s the kind of film that will unite both art house and mainstream audiences.

Nightcrawler serves mainly as a vehicle for Jake Gyllenhaal as well as a vehicle for a culture that is filled by vehicles. Here is a film that manages to be about so many things and is also one of the best thrillers I have seen in a long time. The spirit of Film Noir is strong with this one.

A lot has been said about Jake Gyllenhaal’s performance in this film, and that’s because he all but gets on his hands and knees and begs for an Oscar and basically earns it. It is an oddball performance for the ages. Gyllenhaal plays Louis Bloom, a mysterious man (or is man child a better way to describe him?) looking to break into the world of crime journalism. He runs into the middle of crime scenes without authorization and gets the kind of shots that nobody else can. Depending on how you look at it, his ambition is either inspiring or terrifying. Or maybe a little bit of both.

Now, Louis is really good at his job. He has never had a real job before, but he has read a lot about how to be professional on the Internet. Louis has lived most of his life on the Internet, and he seems more like a machine programmed with past life experiences than a person who has actually had any sort of life at all. We never know why Louis wants to be part of this world at all, but it is most likely out of the thrill of watching crimes unfold without actually having to commit them.

Gyllenhaal’s performance and character has been compared to Travis Bickle. I see him more as a mix between Patrick Bateman and Ryan Gosling in Drive. Louis is kind of a contradictory sociopath: he both manipulates people and doesn’t understand them at all. Louis Bloom definitely belongs in the Sociopath Hall of Fame. Gyllenhaal plays him like a bug eyed Jared Leto. He’s too weird to live, yet too rare to die.

Nightcrawler serves as both character study and crime thriller. When Louis brings his footage to a local news station, it becomes a critique of how the media handles crime stories. First time director Dan Gilroy, who already feels like an old pro, wears so many hats here. When Louis is filming criminals on the streets, it feels like a Michael Mann film. When Louis is chasing news director Nina (Rene Russo) through the news studio, it feels a bit like a more serious version of Anchorman.

Gilroy also makes Los Angeles look really good. And he doesn’t try to make it seem like something it is not: it is a series of sprawling, disconnected suburbs that is in love with cars. The film takes place almost entirely at night, which is when the city looks prettiest and grittiest. There is a stereotype that all people in LA talk about is driving directions. Well, that is all anybody talks about in Nightcrawler. However, the small talk becomes interesting when taking Santa Monica Boulevard over The 101 can mean the difference between life and death.

Nightcrawler is one of those films that seems to end on a happy note. But if you are a good movie watcher, then you will know that there is something lurking underneath. Exceptional films don’t like to wrap up in a little bow; they should challenge the audience with a little bit more than they were expecting. This is a low key action picture, and the best found footage film I’ve ever seen (we can debate whether or not to call it that). This is just one of those films that felt like an instant classic the from the moment it started to the moment it ended.