Review: Inherent Vice

Inherent Vice is set in 1970, the decade that begat many a California noir such as Roman Polanski's Chinatown, Arthur Penn's Night Moves, and Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye. These films and their ilk featured private eyes who were direct descendants of Dashiell Hammett's Sam Spade and Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe (in the case of The Long Goodbye, Marlowe himself), the detectives par excellence of hardboiled pulp. Neither Hammett nor Chandler were particularly concerned with the actual solving of the mystery; the mechanics of the investigation were less about the gathering of the following of clues than a means of mingling with an eccentric cast of characters, each bearing peccadilloes, peculiarities, and their own pungent brand of (a)morality.

Before it sets off on its meandering convolutions, Inherent Vice begins, as all noirs must, with a damsel in distress. Her name is Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston) and she's a romantic blast from the past for Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), a private investigator living in the fictional town of Gordita Beach, California. Back when they were together and she was wearing tees and bikini bottoms, she could "go weeks without anything more complicated than a pout." Now here she was, looking like she swore she'd never look with her flatland gear and straightened hair, telling Doc about the married man she's been having an affair with, a real estate bigshot by the name of Mickey Wolfmann (Eric Roberts) who's about to be committed to the loony bin by his wife and her lover so they can get their hands on his money. Maybe Doc can talk to the junior district attorney Penny (Reese Witherspoon) he's been seeing on the side so the adulterous couple can be thwarted?

Doc sets about gleaning some information about Wolfmann, first reaching out to his Aunt Reet (Jeanne Berlin) who gives him the rundown on the developer: "Technically a Jew but wants to be a Nazi" and surrounded by bodyguards straight from the Aryan Brotherhood. Before Doc can pay a visit to Wolfmann, he's approached by Tariq Khalil (Michael Kenneth Williams), who wants to hire Doc to track down a Glen Sherlock, a former business partner who owes him some money. Sherlock happens to be one of Wolfmann's bodyguards as well as the dead body Doc wakes up next to outside the Chick Planet massage parlor located on the site of Wolfmann's next piece of development property.

Doc is hauled to the police station by Detective Christian "Bigfoot" Bronson (Josh Brolin), who is investigating the disappearance of both Wolfmann and Shasta. Bigfoot's hulking frame could fee-fi-fo-fum any of the drugged out hippies and flower children that loll about the film, and Brolin utilises his bulk as ballast, harshing Inherent Vice's mellow to display sorely lacking bursts of energy. Bigfoot shouting for more Swedish pancakes in a Japanese diner and provocatively eating a chocolate-covered banana might be the best straight bits of comedy put on film in the last five years.

Doc rolls along from one character to the next - they maybe / maybe not / who cares connected with the mystery. There's Hope Harlingen (Jena Malone), a former heroin addict turned drug counselor, whose husband Coy (Owen Wilson) may or may not be dead, and who may or may not be an informant; Dr. Blatnoyd (Martin Short), decked out in velvet and delirium, who might be getting his lecherous tentacles into teenage runaway Japonica Fenway (Sasha Pieterse); and Jade (Hong Chau), the massage parlor prostitute who warns Doc to "beware of the Golden Fang," which might be a private sailing vessel or an Indo-Chinese drug cartel, depending on who you ask.

That director Paul Thomas Anderson even waded into the density of Thomas Pynchon's novel and managed a surprisingly faithful adaptation is already cause for applause. That Inherent Vice might not make for necessarily smooth viewing is another matter entirely. It is a a bit of tough go, the actual viewing experience of this film, as the breadth of detail resists easy containment and there's an ephemeral quality, almost a soupiness, that makes the entire film fail to solidify.

Anderson does capture the book's lightly surreal, gently psychedelic spirit in mostly static master shots, especially effective in Shasta's seduction of Doc. Waterston's physical and emotional nakedness conspire to craft a femme fatale at her most vulnerable and manipulative. Each word is a calculation, a detonation, and a sexual persuasion - it's damn sexy, but damn sad too. Would that the entire film brimmed with such intrigue and allure.

Inherent Vice

Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson

Written by: Paul Thomas Anderson; adapted from Thomas Pynchon's novel

Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Josh Brolin, Katherine Waterston, Owen Wilson, Reese Witherspoon, Benicio Del Toro, Jena Malone, Martin Short, Michael Kenneth Williams, Eric Roberts, Sasha Pieterse, Serena Scott Thomas, Joanna Newsom, Hong Chau, Martin Donovan, Sam Jaeger, Timothy Simons