Licorice PizzaWhen we look back on the past, we see a world we either remember when we were different people--if we were even alive then--or a world we remember from the legacy left behind...the monuments of times gone by. Licorice Pizza is a memory, or a time capsule from half a century ago. Set in Los Angeles circa 1973, it tells the tale of two young people who meet and develop a relationship tested by zany adventures and youthful emotions. There is an aspiring teen actor named Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) and there is Alana Kane (Alana Haim), a photographer's assistant, unsure of her calling. They seek their paths together, forging the memories that will define their lives.
|
|
Licorice Pizza is written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, and is a massive love letter to so many things, but especially the films of yesteryear and the feel of a time and place only remembered by our elders. Paul Thomas Anderson was born in Los Angeles in 1970, so while some of the content of that world might have been experienced first hand by him, it stands to reason that most of the exploits of Gary and Alana were still something that he was too young to experience for himself at that age. So where did this nostalgia come from? Fans of Anderson's work surely don't have to contemplate this question for too long. It would be no stretch to say that his films are like the second coming of Robert Altman, although they go beyond that, and are distinctly themselves--unique with voices of their own. And yet there is much in his body of work that hearkens back to so many classics of the era. It is clear that Licorice Pizza is a recreation of a world that has been embodied in the art and media of the period. It is such a distinct and immersive experience, that you get that sense that it came from personal experience, which is a testament to the excellent research put into crafting the film's verisimilitude. But...it's even more than that. You can see--no, you can feel the influence of other works here. The relationship between Alana and Gary is a rocky road, but it is one that comes from that familiar search for the self. There is something of the French New Wave in this movie, something honest and earnest about their relationship that reminds me of Jules and Jim, or even Breathless. The way that Gary is willing to change from one way of life to another despite being so young in his years made me think of Antoine Doinel in The 400 Blows. All of this is to say that Gary is not just some passive protagonist shucked into a narrative and expected to react to the plot. He is the driving force of the story, a whirlwind pulling everyone into his orbit. In this, Licorice Pizza also manages to draw inspiration from another "Anderson" movie--it is unmistakably similar to Wes Anderson's Rushmore. Gary has that same unbridled confidence and "dive head first into life" attitude that Jason Schwartzman's Max Fischer does; they are psychological twins separated at birth.
Like all Paul Thomas Anderson films, there is a painstaking level of detail in Licorice Pizza, right down to--and especially--the casting. Anderson worked with Philip Seymour Hoffman in many films, including his earlier works like Hard Eight and Boogie Nights (and especially The Master), yet the latter passed away in 2014. His son is Cooper Hoffman, and what to a casual observer might look like nepotism couldn't be farther from it. There is so much vitality and heartfelt enthusiasm in Cooper's performance as Gary, something so magically honest and true for a teenager that it reminds me of Bud Cort in films like Hal Ashby's Harold and Maude. (Bud Cort also starred in Altman's Brewster McCloud, further emphasizing these connections.) Alana's family in Licorice Pizza is also played by her real-life family, and she and her sisters comprise a rock band named "Haim". Scenes like when she argues with her sister for "thinking" about her in a negative way after one of the boys she brought to dinner turned out to be an atheist has this great subtext of authenticity that other scenes in other movies like it lack. The casting goes even further with other supporting characters who cross paths with Alana and Gary in their respective journeys of self-discovery. Gary stumbles into a wig store where a waterbed is on sale. (I don't know why a waterbed is at a wig store, either.) The salesman is played by George DiCaprio (father of Leonardo DiCaprio), who himself was an underground comix artist and avant-garde performer--appropriately "groovy" for the era, but also a sign of how the roots of the entertainment we know today were planted in that age. Other actors play caricatures or pastiches of other recognizable performers from this "Golden Age" of Hollywood, including Christine Ebersole as a foul-mouthed (when backstage) Lucille Ball and Sean Penn as a thoroughly inebriated version of William Holden. Director Ben Safdie plays Joel Wachs, an aspiring mayoral candidate who slyly uses his bachelor status to signify that he is too busy for love because he's trying to make L.A. a better place. The most outrageous and bizarre of these, though, is the wildly comical portrayal of Jon Peters by Bradley Cooper, who plays the hairdresser turned producer and ex-boyfriend of Barbra Streisand as a sociopathic egomaniac and sex predator. (Bit of trivia: Cooper starred in the remake of a movie produced by Peters, A Star is Born. One wonders if Cooper influenced his performance of Peters following allegations of sexual harassment made against Peters years before.)
All of these outlandish people in Licorice Pizza add flavor to the world of the movie, but are really just window dressing for the real story, which is of course about Gary and Alana. They meet as she is coming around with a mirror for the high school boys to check their hair (even though they were all doing this in the bathroom minutes before), and Gary grabs her and immediately sets into flirting with her. She understandably resists, but despite her protesting, ultimately meets him at his favorite restaurant for a Coke. They talk. They learn a little about one another. And even though she protests, she does give him her number. See, Alana is lonely. She is unsure what she's doing with her life. She knows that she is twenty-five years old, and she's making a little money walking around with a hand mirror, getting slapped on the behind by the photographer, and can't do a thing about it. Even though Gary drives the story forward, Alana is always trying to find direction...so Gary gives her that, whether she likes it or not. She allows herself to be caught up in Gary's fast-moving life, and secretly loves every minute of it. She accompanies him as his chaperone to New York City for a stage performance. She signs on to help him sell waterbeds over the phone and even dresses in a bikini to dance around when they open their own store (staffed predominantly by his teenage friends). They argue because they do not want to admit that they are both seeking something, but that they really don't know what that is yet. They worry about one another. After Gary is mistakenly identified as a murderer and is arrested without being charged (I guess "Miranda rights" weren't commonly known about then), she literally runs to the cop shop to check on him, just as he is being freed (without apology). He races across the eighth hole at a golf course at night after Alana falls off of "Jack Holden's" motorcycle because he's too drunk to remember she was there. And the two run to find one another at the end because they finally realize just how important they are to one another, to Hell with their pride! Alana seems convinced that she needs to find stability and direction, and is willing to compromise her values to get there. Gary seems too interested in making a hustle to take anything seriously, but really only enjoys it when Alana is by his side. When he opens his own pinball arcade, despite his slick suit and fun atmosphere, he is rough and even rude to patrons...because he isn't having fun without her there. Sure, he ignores her when she repeatedly emphasizes that he's too young for her, and she makes this point a little too often to not be hurtful. But they are magnetic. They are drawn to one another, and there is no other world that they belong in than the one they share together.
Recommended for: Fans of a wistful and comedic love story fully saturated in the music and style of 1973, specifically Los Angeles. Licorice Pizza gets its title from a term used to describe a vinyl LP, and each needle drop in the film is like hypnosis, putting you under its spell of nostalgia and charm...like Gary does with Alana a bit.
Like all Paul Thomas Anderson films, there is a painstaking level of detail in Licorice Pizza, right down to--and especially--the casting. Anderson worked with Philip Seymour Hoffman in many films, including his earlier works like Hard Eight and Boogie Nights (and especially The Master), yet the latter passed away in 2014. His son is Cooper Hoffman, and what to a casual observer might look like nepotism couldn't be farther from it. There is so much vitality and heartfelt enthusiasm in Cooper's performance as Gary, something so magically honest and true for a teenager that it reminds me of Bud Cort in films like Hal Ashby's Harold and Maude. (Bud Cort also starred in Altman's Brewster McCloud, further emphasizing these connections.) Alana's family in Licorice Pizza is also played by her real-life family, and she and her sisters comprise a rock band named "Haim". Scenes like when she argues with her sister for "thinking" about her in a negative way after one of the boys she brought to dinner turned out to be an atheist has this great subtext of authenticity that other scenes in other movies like it lack. The casting goes even further with other supporting characters who cross paths with Alana and Gary in their respective journeys of self-discovery. Gary stumbles into a wig store where a waterbed is on sale. (I don't know why a waterbed is at a wig store, either.) The salesman is played by George DiCaprio (father of Leonardo DiCaprio), who himself was an underground comix artist and avant-garde performer--appropriately "groovy" for the era, but also a sign of how the roots of the entertainment we know today were planted in that age. Other actors play caricatures or pastiches of other recognizable performers from this "Golden Age" of Hollywood, including Christine Ebersole as a foul-mouthed (when backstage) Lucille Ball and Sean Penn as a thoroughly inebriated version of William Holden. Director Ben Safdie plays Joel Wachs, an aspiring mayoral candidate who slyly uses his bachelor status to signify that he is too busy for love because he's trying to make L.A. a better place. The most outrageous and bizarre of these, though, is the wildly comical portrayal of Jon Peters by Bradley Cooper, who plays the hairdresser turned producer and ex-boyfriend of Barbra Streisand as a sociopathic egomaniac and sex predator. (Bit of trivia: Cooper starred in the remake of a movie produced by Peters, A Star is Born. One wonders if Cooper influenced his performance of Peters following allegations of sexual harassment made against Peters years before.)
All of these outlandish people in Licorice Pizza add flavor to the world of the movie, but are really just window dressing for the real story, which is of course about Gary and Alana. They meet as she is coming around with a mirror for the high school boys to check their hair (even though they were all doing this in the bathroom minutes before), and Gary grabs her and immediately sets into flirting with her. She understandably resists, but despite her protesting, ultimately meets him at his favorite restaurant for a Coke. They talk. They learn a little about one another. And even though she protests, she does give him her number. See, Alana is lonely. She is unsure what she's doing with her life. She knows that she is twenty-five years old, and she's making a little money walking around with a hand mirror, getting slapped on the behind by the photographer, and can't do a thing about it. Even though Gary drives the story forward, Alana is always trying to find direction...so Gary gives her that, whether she likes it or not. She allows herself to be caught up in Gary's fast-moving life, and secretly loves every minute of it. She accompanies him as his chaperone to New York City for a stage performance. She signs on to help him sell waterbeds over the phone and even dresses in a bikini to dance around when they open their own store (staffed predominantly by his teenage friends). They argue because they do not want to admit that they are both seeking something, but that they really don't know what that is yet. They worry about one another. After Gary is mistakenly identified as a murderer and is arrested without being charged (I guess "Miranda rights" weren't commonly known about then), she literally runs to the cop shop to check on him, just as he is being freed (without apology). He races across the eighth hole at a golf course at night after Alana falls off of "Jack Holden's" motorcycle because he's too drunk to remember she was there. And the two run to find one another at the end because they finally realize just how important they are to one another, to Hell with their pride! Alana seems convinced that she needs to find stability and direction, and is willing to compromise her values to get there. Gary seems too interested in making a hustle to take anything seriously, but really only enjoys it when Alana is by his side. When he opens his own pinball arcade, despite his slick suit and fun atmosphere, he is rough and even rude to patrons...because he isn't having fun without her there. Sure, he ignores her when she repeatedly emphasizes that he's too young for her, and she makes this point a little too often to not be hurtful. But they are magnetic. They are drawn to one another, and there is no other world that they belong in than the one they share together.
Recommended for: Fans of a wistful and comedic love story fully saturated in the music and style of 1973, specifically Los Angeles. Licorice Pizza gets its title from a term used to describe a vinyl LP, and each needle drop in the film is like hypnosis, putting you under its spell of nostalgia and charm...like Gary does with Alana a bit.