It hit me yesterday that despite a stated intention to sit through the Bluray of Paul Thomas Anderson‘s Inherent Vice so I could read the subtitles, I never did. And I honestly don’t think I ever will. It all came flooding back when I watched the below clip. I hate this movie, in large part because I can’t stand Joaquin Phoenix‘s performance and appearance — his slurry, muttery speech, puffy face, mandals, muttonchops, infuriating whimsicality, etc. In my book it’s absolutely one of the most detestable performances of all time. And honestly? Phoenix’s pot-bellied performance in Woody Allen‘s Irrational Man is a very close competitor. I was genuinely pleased when his character fell down the elevator chute.
This is a pretty good idea for a thread, come to think. What performances have so driven you up the wall that you briefly considered avoiding this or that actor or actress for the rest of your time on this planet? It sent you into a mood, I mean. I’ll be ready to forgive Phoenix at any time. All he has to do is crawl out of that foxhole he’s been curled up in.
“It really is an immersion and a half. Beautiful atmosphere, perfect Nixonian vibe, bleachy lighting scheme, ultra-dry humor, Aryans, dopers, a Neil Young tune or two, endless manner of perversity and duplicity and what-the-fuck-ity…but I couldn’t figure out a whole lot. Some but not enough. It’s in, it’s out, it’s back in again, it moves left and right, it drops its pants, it takes a hit, it bongs out again…it makes your brain feel like cheese that’s been left on the counter overnight, and it goes on for…what, two and a half fucking hours? If only I was smarter…if only I could hear more of the dialogue…if only I had several lines of heroin to snort while I was watching it.
“You know what? Forget the plot. Solutions are for squares, man. Just submit to the period-ness and let that be enough. Let Joaquin Phoenix‘s mutton-chops rule. Doobies, sandals, hippie chicks, waves, the residue of Manson, shiny 1970 cars…all of it, dude. Be a ‘yes’ person.” — from my 10.4.14 review (“Trippy, Woozy ’70s Sink-In…Texture, Man…Dirt and Scratch Marks…Whoa”) from the NY Film Festival.
