THERE WILL BE BLOOD

Reviewed by Sam Hatch

I have to say that I was initially thrilled when I found the poster for this film, as the thought of Daniel Day-Lewis starring in a film called There Will Be Blood was enticing indeed. It was what I read in the smaller print on the one sheet that gave me pause – it was the newest film from Paul Thomas Anderson. I've got a bit of a love-hate thing going on with the guy, so it put me on edge.

While Mister Anderson (best read in the vocal style of Hugo Weaving) came across as a poor-man's Scorsese in Boogie Nights, I was nonetheless entertained. (I never got around to watching his first film – Hard Eight) It was the next film Magnolia that really triggered my 'pretentiometer'. It worked in a way (more as a poor man's Altman this time), but although I found it enjoyable to an extent in my heart I knew it was crap.

His next film Punch-Drunk Love was a feeble attempt at crafting an 'important' film out of the Adam Sandler man-boy comedy template, and was an excruciatingly painful experience. Thank God it wasn't over two hours in length like most of Anderson's films, for an hour and a half of it was just about enough to drive one to commit ritualistic suicide in the theater aisle.

What really turned me off to Anderson as a director (apart from his rabid fan base of smart people who really 'get' his work) was a segment of the making-of documentary found on the Magnolia double-DVD set. At one point he announces to the crew that they're making a 'great' film, and that no one should have to apologize for making a great film.

Oh, yes you do, little P.T., yes you do! In fact, you have to apologize to me and my entire family (and my ancestors!) for your malignant narcissism. Of course any director will set out to make the best movie possible, and may yearn to craft an all-time classic, but when you announce the fact that you're making a 'great' film you become the poster-child for pretentiousness. I don't believe that anyone thinks of Paul Thomas Anderson as a genius more than Paul Thomas Anderson himself.

On a side note, I hate when people gushing over his films have to point out that their maestro is not to be confused with that 'hack' director Paul W.S. Anderson, who helms trashy horror movies such as Resident Evil and Event Horizon. Sorry, but the fact that P.T. desperately tries to prove his brilliance to the world with his 'great' films doesn't make him any less of a hack. In fact, I hope it's Paul W.S. who ends up making the next great cinema classic. So there!

Back to the topic at hand, I was enamored of the concept of There Will Be Blood, but wary of having to tolerate another self-indulgent bit of wankery at the hands of the man who could possibly be the world's most annoying director. There was good news, however – the cast sounded great and Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood was doing the score. So with that, I pushed all of my anti-Anderson bile to the back of my throat and settled in with There Will Be Blood.

This titular 'blood' doesn't mean human plasma as much as it references the black blood of the earth - oil. The story is a loose adaptation of the novel “Oil!” by Upton Sinclair, and focuses on a misanthropic businessman named Daniel Plainview (which apparently sounds better than Danny Murderpants). My partner in crime Kevin O'Toole loves to point out that Day-Lewis as Plainview is merely aping the voice of John Huston, so if the thought of that irks you, beware.

Day-Lewis wouldn't be the only one guilty of impersonation here, for while Anderson is trying to usurp Citizen Kane's throne of greatness, he's also apparently decided that it's his turn to channel the style of Stanley Kubrick. The opening shots of unpopulated mountains caging a harsh, desert terrain are accompanied by sporadic barrages of Greenwood's atonal strings, and the whole thing feels like it should belong in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The barely evolving ape in this case being Plainview, who is introduced through a string of dialogue-less mining scenes that portray his DIY modus operandi and unflagging determination. Digging for silver leads the man into the realm of black gold, and soon enough he's working alongside a full team of oil workers (all of whom are expendable, as they routinely meet their demise due to falling tools and debris).

The fact that he is now surrounded by people does not mean that Plainview likes them at all. Oh, no, he's a malignant tumor of a man who actively hates mankind, and only wishes to gather riches so that he may eventually leave all humanity behind and sequester himself from the rest of world (presumably to gather jars of urine and perform experiments with twine). But until that day comes, he makes no bones about his desire to be rid of other men, and he is more than willing to take care of such deeds himself.

One of the few people he seems not to openly despise is his right hand man Fletcher (an underused Ciaran Hinds), who along with Daniel's young son H.W. (Dillon Freasier) accompanies the volatile oilman around the country in search of blacker pastures. This leads to a tip-off that lures Plainview and crew to the California town of Little Boston, where oil is in abundance and bubbles right up to the surface regularly.

Plainview schmoozes the owner of the property (and again exploits the angel-faced H.W. as a shortcut to earning empathy from potential suckers), but finds that the man's mega-religious son Eli Sunday (Paul Dano) is going to pose a bit of a problem. You see, Eli's a huckster himself - a screechy, po-faced loser who realizes that his only way to the top is as a faith healer peddling exploitative fire and brimstone religion. He recognizes Plainview as another cheat, and tries to work a deal so that the eventual oil operation will fund the ferret-like boy's own church.

And that's pretty much the story! From this point on Plainview wishes to crush the boy, and while there are detours, that's what this road ultimately leads to. Things don't always go as planned, as an explosion at the site leaves H.W.'s hearing permanently damaged. When forced to choose between being a good father and raking in more cash, Daniel abandons the boy on a northbound train and sends him to a specialist in San Francisco.

There's also a subplot involving a stranger named Henry (Kevin J. O'Connor) who arrives in Little Boston claiming to be the brother of Plainview. There's a strong theme of father-son relations throughout the film, and while Daniel grows murderous at the suggestion that he isn't raising his son well (he tells the offending party that he will slip into his house at night and slit his throat – nice guy!), he really doesn't cut the daddy mustard when push comes to shove.

In turn, he apparently has not had the best of relationships with his own father, and Henry comes bearing news that the old man recently died. Daniel is also reluctant to openly reflect upon his own familial history, and clearly there is a bubbling lake of pain fueling his unceasing hatred. Though as much as he makes feeble attempts at it, he doesn't seem to want to become a better person, and any solid connection he makes with another person is something he later rues bitterly.

While his camaraderie with Henry doesn't lessen his overall malevolent disposition, it does grant him a fleeting opportunity to enjoy human company anew in some fashion. In the meantime, there's deal making to do, and once again Plainview wants to hurt someone badly (in this case Standard Oil) by constructing a pipeline to the coast, thereby eliminating the need to ship barrels by train. It's here that Plainview's stubborn pride starts to come back to curse him, since one piece of property needed to complete the deal is owned by a man that he had previously refused to barter with at the onset of his operation.

From here, there's some murder, some more murder, and a series of moments where we think Plainview may ultimately crumble under the overpowering weight of Eli's God. Day-Lewis really helps make this material eminently viewable, and his charmingly dangerous wolverine of a man is mainly what kept my bum from wiggling in the seat. Of course the role isn't that brave considering he played a similarly vicious bastard in Gangs of New York. It would have been much braver for him to perform in a rom-com or something along those lines.

Still, while Bill the Butcher from Gangs also tapped into father-son tropes, he also subconsciously yearned for someone to best him, and delighted in the concept of an honorable death. Plainview doesn't long for an equal; he simply wants to erase everyone from the Earth. That's ultimately the only thing he has to offer the world, and there's even a scene where he appears to be close to death solely because there's nobody around to destroy.

It's hard searching for the correct adjective for Dano's performance, for while it is certainly a capable one, it is an equally irritating one. He joins Marcia Gay Harden from The Mist as one of the most obnoxiously religious zealots in recent cinema history. From the onset you just want someone to squash him like a bug, and it is delightful when Plainview stomps the boy into a pool of oil (brutally baptizing him in the blood of the Earth).

There's also a paternal dynamic in Eli's story, since he resents his passive-aggressive father (the man lets Plainview roll over him without a fight, but beats his own daughter for not being religious enough) and has no male figure to look up to besides the God he uses to gain power over the townsfolk. And make no mistake; this film is about the deeds and troubles of men. Apart from the rancher's daughter and a few whores that we hear off camera, this thing is one big oily sausage fest.

The cinematography is gorgeous, and images such as a group of silhouetted oilmen staring at a burning derrick in the night, or a semi-cloudy sky reflected in a blackened pool of crude sear themselves into the mind's eye. As expected, Jonny Greenwood's string-heavy score is delicious, and while it's primarily influenced by a number of classical composers, at times it also references vintage Jerry Goldsmith. As good as everyone says the film is, the soundtrack is even better.

Though I have to hand it to Anderson for attempting to craft the type of character subtlety that came naturally to true masters such as Krzysztof Kieslowski. He doesn't always pull it off, but neither could Kubrick (see Eyes Wide Shut - or better yet, don't). Day-Lewis however is pretty capable at delivering his thoughts minus an overload of dialogue.

Many people are complaining about the ending, and at the screening I attended I was surprised to hear one viewer voice that he felt let down by the lack of a cathartic wrap-up. There could be no catharsis to this story – its protagonist is the human equivalent of a black hole. There is no lesson to be learned from his maleficence, only a grim satisfaction through the act of destruction. Sure, you could be tempted to view it as an allegory for the Middle-East, and how the combustible mixture of oil and religion will always lead to an endless cycle of violence – but to do so ultimately feels foolish.

And boy does Day-Lewis go over the top during the last act. Already, die-hard Andersonians are complaining about the public's incapacity to grasp the somber importance of the final scenes, but the truth is this – Day-Lewis goes completely gonzo and delivers a spittle-laden bit of self-indulgent insanity that is completely and totally hilarious. In fact, I doubt Jack Nicholson could summon this same amount of unbridled ham. It really cries out for a new descriptive term – I choose 'goofitas'.

I don't care how much venom he's brimming with, his loopy dances and shouts of “I drink your MILKSHAKE!” (Not to forget my other favorite line “Bastard in a basket!” - repeat that five or so times at the top of your lungs to get the right effect!) are very, very hard to take seriously. I know I've probably just sent a gaggle of arthouse aficionados into fits of uncontrollable sobbing, but they'll get over it.

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