Depending on who you ask, the defining elements of a Paul Thomas Anderson movie vary. Fans of the acclaimed director might immediately refer to rich cinematography, profound, abstract messaging, and committed cast performances. Conversely, Anderson naysayers might recall agonizingly long runtimes, winded dialogue, and shambolic plots.
Anderson’s 2021 movie Licorice Pizza serves as a microcosm for all the defining features of his work, whether you find them transcendent or tiresome. The film’s reception was divided from the start: the critical consensus was much more approving of the production than general audiences were.
Ambitious and entrepreneurial, 15 year old Gary, played by Cooper Hoffman, falls deeply in unrequited love with 25 year old Alana, played by Alana Haim, in 1973 Los Angeles. Gary’s impetuous drive for success and stardom is expertly contrasted with Alana’s directionless young adulthood. A more nuanced, platonic relationship replaces the flirtatious spark, as Gary ropes Alana into a series of farcical business ventures.
A series of misadventures engulf the duo, including a run-in with Bradley Cooper as eccentric real-life producer Jon Peters and the onset of the 1973 oil crisis. Though the aspirational difference between the two eventually lead Alana to pursue a more respectable career in politics, she ultimately realizes the imperfect adult world is no more honorable than adolescence. The film concludes with the two reuniting, embracing, and confessing their love.
Both condemningly and defensively, the protagonists’ ten-year age gap has been widely discussed by audiences and critics alike–but the movie is conscious of the uncomfortable dynamic. Alana copes with the guilt and awkwardness of sharing a bond with someone so much younger.
Whether or not this unethical and racy dynamic subtracts from the quality of the movie is disputed–but this dilemma certainly can easily distract from the viewing experience.
Surely the largest grievance to be held with the film, though, is its meandering yet redundant plot. The many escapades the protagonists become involved in are entertaining, but often feel purely tangential to the movie’s overarching narrative. The back and forth, polar dynamic between Gary and Alana is accomplished through almost endlessly repetitive scenarios: one behaves disloyally and the other retaliates.
The pacing, also, prevents total investment in the movie. Slow-burn storytelling is an Anderson staple, but Licorice Pizza feels, at times, more reminiscent of a rambling toddler attempting to explain a dream they had. While the slow progression of There Will Be Blood (2008) manages to evolve complex character dynamics throughout the story, Gary and Alana feel too static for the lengthy plot to feel anything but interminable.
For those able to look past these shortcomings, Licorice Pizza is undeniably enjoyable. A finely crafted soundtrack and vibrant set design contribute heavily to the film’s appeal–engrossing the viewer in the world of 1973 L.A. The cinematography is, unsurprisingly, up to par with the rest of Anderson’s masterful portfolio. Themes of transitioning from youth to adulthood and the turbulent relationship between Gary and Alana are conveyed through dynamic, push-and-pull camera movement.
Even surrounded by a cast of unmistakable talents, like Bradley Cooper, Sean Penn, and Maya Rudolph, Hoffman and Haim manage to deliver a thoroughly profound performance as the main characters.
At its heart, Licorice Pizza remains, indisputably, a Paul Thomas Anderson production in its element. Visual elements, a bold soundtrack, and immersive character portrayals shape the genial atmosphere of the film. Albeit, a tenuous plot, a hefty watchtime, and a controversial, off-color romance can easily displace the viewer. While far from perfect, charmingly awkward Licorice Pizza certainly deserves a watch.
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