‘I knew that was what you were thinking. You’re always thinking things, you thinker…’
Any film from Paul Thomas Anderson is an event. And Licorice Pizza is a good case study in why that is. This is a film that is utterly unique. At once spellbinding and deeply strange. A film defined by incredible performances from unconventional sources. And yet, it’s a film that falls short of greatness for reasons that I can’t quite fathom. It can be difficult writing a review as the credits roll and Licorice Pizza is a case in point. I’m not sure what the hell this movie is or what I made of it. I’ve never been one to shy away from responsibility (apart from all of those times that I have very much shied away from responsibility), so I’m going to give it the old college try…
Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) is a 15-year-old force of nature. An actor. A waterbed salesman. A friend. With Alana (Alana Haim), Gary finds his muse. Albeit a muse that is a decade older. What follows is an ethereal waltz through loneliness, longing and lamentations on what it means to be in love. All shot through the lens of the 1970s – with a soundtrack to match.
The first thing to note here is that this is a film that contains not one but two star making performances. Haim is better known as the guitarist from the pop band she shares with her sisters, but she is a magnetic onscreen presence here. At once funny, aloof and deeply vulnerable, there is no denying that this is an inspired piece of casting. Hoffman, son of Phillip Seymour, matches her every step of the way. It’s an incredible turn that brings to mind the early work of Dustin Hoffman or Jeff Bridges. Indeed, both performances are so convincing that the ten year age gap never really feels that strange, despite the fact that it’s clearly troubling on paper.
Elsewhere, there are some wonderful cameos from Sean Penn, Tom Waits and particularly Bradley Cooper, but ultimately Licorice Pizza often feels more like a collection of scenes rather than a cohesive film. Some of those scenes are works of formidable genius, some of them simply don’t work, but the result is a film that is always compelling, always alluring and never dull. A strange, disjointed, almost-masterpiece.