‘One Battle After Another’ Review: A Paul Thomas Anderson Buffet

A personal opinion: Paul Thomas Anderson is the greatest living American filmmaker not named Martin Scorsese. Linking these two is not an original concept, since Anderson has consistently called out Scorsese as a guiding stylistic influence, particularly in his early work (“Hard Eight,” “Boogie Nights”) when he borrowed heavily from Scorsese’s fiery cutting techniques (“Goodfellas”) and broken, brutish male anti-heroes (“Raging Bull”). Both directors are also tireless ambassadors and unabashed cinephiles whose fandom unapologetically informs their filmmaking gusto. Anderson’s “One Battle After Another” is undoubtedly a tribute to—and occasional break from—cinematic forebearers: a thrilling, genre-crossing, family epic, it takes giddy delight in an encyclopedic sweep and duty to entertain. Funny, scary and unruly, “One Battle” has an insatiable appetite for plot twists, turns, and implosions. A daring, exhausting adventure, “One Battle” is at once a departure and totally on-brand for a singularly-gifted SoCal auteur. 

To prepare for “One Battle,” Anderson provided a recommended syllabus of films that informed his visual cues and thematic concerns. Classics ranging from John Ford’s “The Searchers” (1956) to Sidney Lumet’s “Running on Empty” (1988) may have motivated Anderson in making “One Battle,” but the most direct inspiration is Thomas Pynchon’s novel “Vineland” (1990). Having previously adapted Pynchon’s “Inherent Vice” in 2014, Anderson (who wrote the “One Battle” script) transposes the Pynchon’s sprawling underworld and comically-expansive sprawl—not to mention the novelist’s goofy, grim humor—to these modern times. On a giant screen (“One Battle” was shot in VistaVision; I saw it projected on 70mm in New York’s East Village), Anderson’s vision is fully-formed yet unwieldy. It is a massive buffet for viewers which offers something (car chases, car crashes, gunfights, sex and sex jokes) for everyone. 

From Thriller to Drama to Caper

A plot summary would, if nothing else, point to the film’s general disdain for tidy packaging. Anderson opens “One Battle” in a full sprint, which is to say, in the dark of night, on the eve of a radical act of revolutionary payback. A group of French 75 (yes) members—whose names (there’s a Mae West, a Junglepussy, etc.) feel plucked from Pynchon-ville via Anderson’s playful imagination—storms an immigrant encampment to free its captives and hold the perpetrators hostage. Chief among them is Col. Steven T. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who’s taken prisoner at the hands of the ferocious Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor). To Perfidia’s demands (“Get up!”) Lockjaw sits and stares, while a camera from below shows his erection rising, complying. He submits, but vows to see her again, whether for the sake of love, erotic obsession, revenge, some combination of all that or none whatsoever. 

From there, “One Battle” cascades from a revenge thriller to a domestic drama to a seat-of-Lockjaw’s-pants caper. When Perfidia retreats (first to witness protection and then … Mexico?), the film dials back to center Perfidia’s former love, whose adopted name is Bob Ferguson (Leonardo DiCaprio). Their daughter—conceived in the afterglow of a French 75 blitz—Willa (Chase Infiniti) is now sixteen, striving for the attendant normalcy her peers enjoy without reservation. Bob, however, can’t shake his French 75 roots: Willa (formerly: Charlene) must carry around a tracking device, can’t have a cell phone, and must remember that the revolution will not be televised. On her way to a school dance, Bob grills Willa and her friends (“Why are they parked so close?!”). DiCaprio’s sad, manic and lovable/pitiable clown recalls the b-list fallen star Rick Dalton from “Once Upon a Time … In Hollywood.” 

DiCaprio and Del Toro are Lovable

Turns out, Bob’s live-wire vigilance is well-placed. When his old French 75 mate Deandra (Regina Hall) shows up to kidnap/rescue Willa, “One Battle” steamrolls into madcap motion. Forced to summon his dulled instincts and dead brain cells (thanks to the years and drugs/drinking) to find Willa, Bob leaps from the couch (where he was watching “The Battle of Algiers,” more required viewing from Prof. Anderson), springing to action like a postmodern Ethan Edwards, who would save the day if only he could remember the top-secret password. Bob is a walking shtick; however, Anderson doesn’t overdo the comedy, because life can be funny, even (or especially) when it’s relentless and agonizing. And if DiCaprio is the court jester, then Infiniti is the queen, coming to her own rescue and revealing an endless reservoir of self-confidence and ultimately, love for her father. 

Although “One Battle” skids out of control and stays in overdrive for a moderate chunk of its nearly three hours, the narrative decisions are justifiable because Anderson is steering. And, also, no excuses necessary to make more time for some of the world’s finest actors, including Hall, Penn and Benicio Del Toro, whose Sensei Sergio St. Carlos is a Pynchon-ian gift to this ridiculous world. He is: (1) Willa’s karate instructor, (2) possibly a trained assassin, and (3) definitely a big-hearted softie who, like Deaandra will play decoy and risk his own safety in the interest of reuniting father and daughter. At this point, I haven’t even mentioned Christmas Adventurers’ Club, which acts like a sadistic counter-point to the French 75, serving as both an enabler and foil to Lockjaw’s parallel, ruthless gambit for revenge (or, something else entirely) on the Bob-Perfidia-Willa family unit. 

Fiercely Zany and Independent Amidst the Noise

Anderson and Cinematographer Michael Bauman are in stern command navigating an exhilarating finale up and down Northern California’s queasily rolling hills. A knockout sprint to the finish yields to a spotty denouement involving Lockjaw and his doomed induction into the Adventurers’ Club. But it’s hard to blame Anderson for indulging, even if the needledrops (Steely Dan’s “Dirty Work” served “American Hustle” more astutely) and bizarro character follies risk self-parody compared to Anderson’s deft and disturbing studies of glass-shattering emotional violence (“Punch-Drunk Love”) and beautiful but insufferable perfectionists (“Phantom Thread”). My preference aside (can’t beat Goodbye Stranger in “Magnolia”), “One Battle” proudly triumphs on its own terms. Similar to Scorsese—and another GOAT contender, Francis Ford Coppola—Anderson continues to resist making (paraphrasing Scorsese here) one for them. So, despite a nine-figure budget and big-studio backing “One Battle” is fiercely independent, a zany, no-holds barred rollercoaster from a generational talent who has earned final cut.