Leonardo DiCaprio stuns as a revolutionary turned paranoid stoner in Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another, an angry, polemical saga just as much about rebellion as it is about love. Chaotic and explosive, it is also timeless in its portrayal of modern day America, though with its loose inspirations (Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland) and gritty aesthetic, there is a certain eighties atmosphere to it, in regard to décor and storyline. Its main vice however, and for some a quality, is its length – at just under three hours, there is plenty to work with, yet it seems very much to mirror its title in its resignation to act like a war-like plod.
Members of the far-left revolutionary group the French 75 Pat Calhoun (DiCaprio) and Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor) begin a tumultuous relationship amid their activism campaigns – when Perfidia is caught planting a bomb by military officer Steven Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who she sexually humiliated while breaking out immigrants at a detention centre, she agrees to meet him in a motel under the condition that he let her go. A while later, baby Charlene is born, and while Pat tries to get Perfidia to settle down with them, she is too committed to the cause to accept a quiet family life. Her revolution is cut short however when she kills a police officer during a raid – she can only avoid prison, thanks to Lockjaw, if she gives up the names of the French 75. When the distress signal is sent out, Pat and Charlene escape under fake names. Sixteen years later, they live in a secluded town as Bob and Willa Ferguson – Pat has become paranoid and overprotective of his daughter, who resents his drug abuse and erratic behaviour, and seeks solace in her friends and karate classes. Meanwhile, Lockjaw is invited to join a secret society of wealthy far-righters, but his interracial relationship poses a risk to possible membership, leading him on a hunt for Willa to eliminate his past once and for all.
Though loosely based on Pynchon’s novel, it is obvious that Anderson wrote a series of separate stories and interweaved them into one mad goose chase – all are equally compelling, but there is simply too much material and loose ends. One wonders whether One Battle After Another would have fared better as a television series. A more in depth characterisation and temporary breaks might have prevented it from turning into the cinematic equivalent of racing thoughts – this is a feat, no doubt, as there is a constant feeling of panic that permeates it, but it also means that the focus on its characters feels imbalanced. Much time, for instance, is spent on Perfidia, but despite Taylor’s excellent performance and her role as instigator of the story, it feels somewhat of a shame when after this lengthened “introductory” sequence, she is never seen again, while fellow activist Deandra (Regina Hall) and karate teacher Sergio (Benicio del Toro) are left fairly blurry. Pat and Willa/Charlene are perhaps more developed, and their relationship is after all a testament to Anderson’s ability to convey love and care in few scenes – there are only a handful in which they feature together, and yet Pat’s devotion to his daughter radiates from the screen, emerging as the true heart of this story. While Lockjaw hunts her down, Pat’s drive to finding her fuels the narrative – and so here we have it, two men in search of their daughter, for very different reasons indeed. Despite the stakes, One Battle After Another is somehow devastatingly comical, with DiCaprio’s paranoia headlining – a sequence in which he cannot remember the password to unlock Willa’s location takes up a lot of time without ever losing its humour, Pat yelling down the phone to an operator who doesn’t yet know “who he is”. It’s wonderfully absurd – haven’t we all had such an absurd instance in which we have been misunderstood over the phone, or not been able to access something because we do not have a tool we cannot access without what we are requesting? Try not being able to protect your daughter over returning an incorrect parcel. While Pat struggles around for his password, Penn as Lockjaw is like a befuddled Terminator, charging towards the only thing that stands in the way from his far-right society membership – in shot, his possible biological daughter. It’s easy to loathe Lockjaw, and yet strangely easy to feel for him – perhaps it is just the vacant look in his eyes, and his thirst for acceptance. Either way, Penn is deliciously vile.
Perhaps there are other films that have painted the political climate in the US in more original and nuanced ways – though Anderson’s epic is truthful enough, its characters’ care for one another are of greater importance than the higher cause they believe so strongly in. Nevertheless, it does feel like a slog, in a way that helps it and doesn’t: on one hand, nothing ever seems to let up for Pat. On the other, it feels interminable. Yet, it feels like Anderson somehow knows the limits for, just as it starts to go from slog to mega-slog, he pulls out his wildcard, one of the best and more original car chases to grace the screen. I feel compelled to rewatch, to experience it again, driven by a presumption that perhaps I missed something upon my first viewing. Despite its inconsistencies, there is always something to hang onto, hope that the next scene might be a little stronger than the next.
