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Good, but not Masterful

Paul Thomas Anderson is one of those directors that some count among the very elite. While I agree he is a talent, I have found that my favorite two feature films of his were his first two: "Hard Eight" and "Boogie Nights". Yeah, I know "There Will Be Blood" was a major score for Anderson, but I found it to be quite overrated.

His current "The Master" features a stellar cast doing stellar acting, but the message is either muted, pointless, or non-existent. Any time I get a chance to see Phillip Seymour Hoffman ply his trade I get psyched for it, and as usual he does not disappoint, but in this case, it is Joaquin Phoenix who steals the show, giving an off-the-charts performance where he appears physically and mentally caved into himself. It is a special job and he steals every scene he is in, without detracting from everything else. The look of it all is also spectacular, so it is a bit of a disappointment that in the end it fails to ignite.

Freddie (Phoenix) is a sailor who has just completed his service in World War II. He is put through a series of examinations that indicate he suffers from some degree of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, although it is never made clear exactly the cause or its entire set of manifestations. Sure, he's your typical alcoholic, chain-smoking fellow who appears incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin.

The master is Lancaster Dodd (Hoffman). They meet when Freddie stows away on a boat that Dodd is in charge of. We soon find out that the group on the boat consists of followers of a cult led by Dodd and Dodd takes an immediate liking to Freddie, making him feel welcome into the group. At this point, "The Master" has winner written all over it. But Anderson loses his way and the momentum gained slowly dissipates until we are left solely with watching a great cast without enough of a story to carry the whole thing to the finish line.

Much like Phoenix's caved in persona and physiology, "The Master" eventually caves into itself. Thankfully, the performances keep us awake and even convince us that a big payoff is coming if we wait long enough. Well, it doesn't work out that way. Instead, "The Master" drifts harmlessly out to sea like a disabled vessel, almost as a metaphor for Freddie's life, but that is not the kind of metaphor a director would ever hope to convey to a viewing audience. Come to watch two pros and expect little else, and you won't be disappointed.