Liquorice Pizza | Review

Liquorice Pizza is a gray movie that left me with gray feelings. While I can acknowledge his filmmaking prowess and his eye for beauty in the very un-beautiful, I have never been a die hard fan of Paul Thomas Anderson. I love Boogie Nights, but hate Inherent Vice. Phantom Thread left me feeling very little, and The Master irked me. I know all of these films are masterpieces, but I cannot embrace them personally. I think this might be because PTA makes distinctly male films. Oddly enough, I enjoy the male gaze through his eyes (perhaps because the women he casts it upon are so uniquely gorgeous - Alana Haim is mesmerizing to look at). But his work never makes a mark on me.

Liquorice Pizza was the same. By the time the credits rolled, I had lost any emotional attachment I had to the characters about half an hour earlier. PTA is in an era of his career where, due to auteur status, he is allowed to be as self-indulgent as he wants with his movies. And this is a treat if you’re a huge fan of them - but if you aren’t then it can be quite tedious. Storylines and characters are dropped unceremoniously - Gary’s mother disappears, as does his waning acting career, among other things. Ultimately it results in a very meandering third act - where every scene promises to end the movie, yet never does.

This all being said, I don’t want to dismiss Liquorice Pizza. I think the discourse around it is fascinating - particularly the ethics of depicting a romance (so to speak) between a 25-year-old adult and a 15-year-old minor. This movie is complicated. On one hand, it portrays a very realistic dynamic in age gap relationships. Both members seek something from the other that they lack within themselves. Gary is a 15-year-old stuck in childish roles, dying to be taken seriously by everyone around him. He is constantly performing, as many child actors do, as a miniature adult, even when he is as mature as a 15-year-old typically would be (so, not very). Alana is lost in life. She does not feel up to scratch with her peers and is aimless - working a fruitless job and living at home with her parents. Alana fulfills Gary’s desire to be taken seriously, and Gary fulfills her desire to be admired and validated. In a way, both want to be seen as grown ups. A reading of the film could find that PTA is exposing the fundamental flaw of age gaps - that there is an inherent lack that can never be fulfilled. Another reading could find that he is endorsing age gap relationships - particularly as the credits roll and Alana says wistfully, “I love you Gary”.

I haven’t decided which reading I took away. I was frankly disappointed in the ending. I was perfectly happy with the film ending as Alana starts working for the mayoral candidate, Joel Wachs, finally engaging in a relationship with someone her own age (we’ve seen her in a constant push and pull of power, seeking validation in men either much younger or older than her). But it keeps going, until she ends up right back to Gary. But I didn’t write or direct Liquorice Pizza - and a hallmark of Paul Thomas Anderson movies is their lack of conclusiveness. Phantom Thread comes to mind - where Mr. Woodcock and Alma stay together, making each other miserable forever.

It poses a really interesting quandary about filmmaking - begging us to ask whether films need a moral at their centre. Or the perennial question posed on Twitter right now: is depiction the same as endorsement? I’m not sure at the moment, which is why I want to explore it in my next video. I will say this: I found the Asian jokes distractingly offensive. We can say all we want about who the butt of the joke is there - but ultimately Mr. Fick’s Japanese wives are portrayed as mute, stoic, and interchangeable from one another - a depiction that is incredibly dehumanizing. These were the only moments that people in the theatre laughed out loud (which was filled almost entirely with elderly white men).

Liquorice Pizza is haunting and beautiful. It depicts an era blanketed in beiges, vinyls, urban decay, great guitar riffs, and thick moustaches. PTA’s camera stalks the sunny San Fernando valley with steady intensity in a very off-putting manner. The camerawork is absolutely stunning, and the soundtrack is atmospheric but not heavy-handed. I appreciated these qualities of the film. I also appreciated an incredibly complex performance from Alana Haim, and a very charming performance from Cooper Hoffman. Liquorice Pizza is as listless as its characters. It's as morally ambiguous as the town and era it makes a home in. And it's controversial. All I can say is, go see it for yourself.