Magnolia

Written and Directed by: P.T. Anderson Starring: Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, Jason Robards, Philip Baker Hall, Philip Seymour Hoffman, William H. Macy, John C. Reilly

A massive tapestry of human misery writ large across the screen by auteur P.T. (who used to be called Paul Thomas) Anderson, director of the equally large “Boogie Nights.” There is little doubt in my mind that Anderson is something of a film genius, but he really doesn't know how to shut up. What he really needs is a good editor, in the sense of a person who would tell him, "Hey, cut about 45 minutes out of this picture; we get the point." (The picture is in fact extremely well-edited, in the usual sense of the word.) Unfortunately, the missing "editor" is probably the other half of Anderson's brain, and we haven't seen that accessed yet. (I am curious, though, to see his earlier picture, "Hard Eight," which, by all accounts, is a model of restraint.) The movie focuses on a disparate group of Angelenos during an unusual day featuring a storm of frogs (gee, could there be a Biblical reference hidden there?), and, in one of the more peculiar sequences, all of the main characters singing along--simultaneously, but in different places--with Aimee Mann on the soundtrack. (Now, I am a huge fan of Mann's, and her songs here are great, but that sequence just didn't work for me.

It stuck out in a very "Here! Look at me!" way.) These woebegone folks (all of whom seem to need therapy) include a kind-hearted cop (a great Reilly), a coked-out victim of abuse, a dying TV mogul, his trophy wife, and his nurse, one former and one current child quiz show star, and a misogynistic motivational speaker. (Cruise, in this last role, sports preternaturally white teeth, and has the flashiest part; he is quite good, in an over-the-top sort of way.) All of the performers are excellent, but Hoffman does deserve special mention; he seems to be able to do just about anything onscreen and make it real (see “The Talented Mr. Ripley”). Anderson's skill with the actors is every bit as good as his eye (he is able to hold you with a steady shot of rain stopping --quite a trick), so he has a lot of the pieces of the puzzle in place. Now he needs to focus on the narrative flow. The characters in this picture cross each others' paths mostly tangentially; they are players in a game of coincidence and happenstance (a point Anderson stresses by opening the film with a Ricky Jay narrated sequence of three remarkable historical coincidences). That's all well and good, but is it enough to sustain a three-hour and 18 minute picture? I have to admit that, while I was never less than engaged, my butt was getting a bit sore by the end. I would recommend this picture for those with a real interest in film, and those who want to chart the career of an extremely gifted filmmaker. (1/20/00)