Review | Is “One Battle After Another” a masterpiece or misfire?
Illustration by Sami Seyedhosseini, Cartoonist
“We may be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us” is the foreboding omen that opens Paul Thomas Anderson’s film “Magnolia” — and the past is certainly not through with Bob Ferguson, the lead of his latest film, “One Battle After Another.”
Even after waves of incessant raves and articles about which format to see it in, the hype machine for a single film has never been larger than it is today. And when it comes down to it, “One Battle” really is that good. Along with a loaded roster of excellent performances and a rollicking pace, it is Anderson’s widest-ranging, yet most personal film.
Loosely inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s “Vineland,” Bob Ferguson (Leonardo DiCaprio) was a member of the revolutionary group, The French 75, when he fell for and had a child with fellow revolutionary Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), who soon after abandoned them and was apprehended by the authorities. Bob has to relocate and change identities so that he and his daughter, Willa (Chase Infiniti), can survive.
They live a secluded existence in the town of Baktan Cross for 16 years until a familiar foe, Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), mobilizes his squad and goes after Willa for reasons unknown. Willa is whisked into a world she’d only heard stories about when she’s saved from Lockjaw’s clutches by Deandra (Regina Hall), a former colleague of Bob and Perfidia’s.
Bob has to enter a world he once knew and one he’s woefully unequipped to return to after years of abusing drugs and alcohol. He allies with a local sensei, Sergio St. Carlos (Benicio Del Toro), and leaves his cocoon of cannabis and classic films to find his daughter, rediscovering the nature of the cause he once fought for.
That is the loosest description of the plot I could give, because there is so much delight in store that I want you to discover when you see it. I’ve seen it five times now, which is absurd, but there’s so much to explore, unpack and appreciate in the sprawl of its three-hour runtime that’s kept me returning to it.
In every sense, this is the largest film Anderson has ever made: in scope, in the sheer number of characters we meet and not to mention a budget that dwarfs any of his previous films. The degree to which everyone you meet in this movie is sort of indelible and becomes a fundamental part of how it works so well. In every rewatch, I get just as pumped to see a local hospital worker admitting Bob, who assists Bob in a time of need, as I do the rest of the major stars in this film. It’s a big screen epic that carves out moments for even bit parts to shine.
DiCaprio has played plenty of pathetic characters at their absolute lowest. Think of a luded-out Jordan Belfort crawling to his sports car in “The Wolf of Wall Street” or Rick Dalton trashing his trailer in a profanity-laden rage after a bad take in “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.” It is a register he’s quite adept at, and Bob is truly pathetic. When he receives a call from the movement he was once a part of, informing him of the predicament his daughter’s in, he’s just gotten high and popped on an old movie. He has to launch into his attempt to flee Lockjaw with such immediacy that there’s no time to change, fleeing in his bathrobe and sneakers.
You’d think a dramatic actor of DiCaprio’s caliber wouldn’t be able to land feats of physical comedy with such frequency and ease, falling from great heights and screaming and hysterically crying. But the performance shines just as much in the moments where he softens, and we see the heartbreak behind the madness —like when he’s telling his tale of woe to Sensei Sergio and his inability to do his daughter’s hair. Moments like this make Bob feel real and more than a punchline. His moments of outsized folly become all the more believable, endearing even.
Bob is somehow the emotional center and the comedic engine of this movie that volleys between sincerity and absurdity, acting as the conduit between. DiCaprio so beautifully brings these tones together and these two shades of Bob: Bob the screwup and Bob the father. This sometimes happens within seconds of each other, as the story necessitates, and it is some of the best work of his storied career.
Benicio Del Toro as Sensei Sergio is everything DiCaprio isn’t. If Leo is this movie’s metronome, Del Toro is the antidote to its manic episodes. Where Bob freaks out, Sergio stays remarkably, almost disarmingly cool as he faces conflicts of his own. I wish I could describe what makes the performance work so well without saying “cool” over and over, but every time he comes on screen, there’s just an enormous sense of calm I feel.
Chase Infiniti as Willa is continually going up toe to toe with Oscar winners as her scene partners and completely holds her own. You watch her credibly transform from sullen teenager to a formidable combatant against Lockjaw and his forces. She has a scene where she and Leo discuss his drunk driving before he hounds one of her friends coming to pick her up for a school dance. The child becomes the parent and then the tables turn. Although Willa and Bob spend most of the movie apart by design, it’s a testament to the way they bounce off of each other that we have such a solidified sense of their dynamic.
Teyana Taylor’s also incredible as Perfidia, who makes almost all of her mark in the first third of the movie, but lingers over the rest of it. She is the ghost that haunts Bob, Willa and Lockjaw, and Taylor’s presence ensures that she stays with the audience as well.
Regina Hall’s performance also must be commended, a far cry from her primarily comedic work. She’s very muted, whereas many in this film are not, and totally affecting, as we watch the years of toiling for the French 75 and running from those who pursue her play across her face.
Already, there’s been a whole lot of praise for Sean Penn’s performance as Lockjaw, and deservedly so. The mix of rage and self-loathing, with wrinkles of lust and desire within him, feels like Anderson drawing with colors in his Crayola box that he’s used before; he knows how to build a true on-screen weirdo to inhabit his worlds. The tragedy at his core stems from much the same place as Bob’s, but whereas Bob has cooled off, Lockjaw has stayed as tense as ever.
Ferguson’s shortcomings as a hero lead to many laughs, but at his heart, he’s a tragic character. He left the family he had in the French 75 to start his own with Perfidia, and then that was stripped away too. He’s a man without a direction, without a creed but in his search for Willa, the person he cares for most, he finds why he once had the drive to try and change the world for the better.
This is where it becomes hard not to map elements of the film onto Anderson’s own life, as a father of four teenagers. His last film, “Licorice Pizza” chronicled and reveled in the thrilling allure of youth and its many shenanigans, but also facing a wide world that you’re still figuring out a way to be a part of. This looks at that search for meaning and what you mean to the world you inhabit from the opposite phase of life.
A hiccup in Bob’s quest arrives when he’s unable to relay a codeword to a member of the resistance, producing some of the film’s funniest moments. At times, it feels like he’s on the phone with a cable company, as he braves hold music and a maddening lack of solutions. But it’s a moment that is more crucial to Bob’s arc than it initially presents itself, reminding him of why he sacrificed for the French 75’s cause.
This film sees so many of the people who tried to change the world facing a kind of obsolescence, accepting their time is up and that all they can do is hand off the torch to future generations, hoping that they can fix what they never could.
I could talk about this movie for thousands of words further. All I can say, at the end of the day, is that I implore you to go see it, and to see it on the biggest screen you can. No matter the format, you’re in for a treat.
