Day: October 4, 2012

In the same way that a “processing” or mental therapy is the crux of the cult movement depicted in this film, it may take some time to “process” this story to make sense of it.  For starters, there is nothing easy, straightforward, or even pleasant about this film.  In fact, the first forty-five minutes might seem like the longest ever.  But there is something compelling about the characters, in particular those of Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Amy Adams that forces you focus– to focus on the likes of folks not unlike you or I, and also perhaps not so dissimilar in a strange kind of way.

And so you begin to “process”– to internally engage yourself with the possibilities of a psyche that chooses to conjure up a philosophy called The Cause, and to understand a cult movement headed up by a “master” that promotes and defends it.  Widely said to be based on the life and story of the founder of Scientology, Ron L. Hubbard, the story affords us a strange fascination in looking from the outside into the workings of a mind so mired in the building of a cult-following, and perhaps even feeling repulsed at how gullible the human mind can be.

But this is not so much a story about the master as it is a story about one of the master’s most significant recruits, played by the very brilliant Joaquin Phoenix.  Script be damned just for a moment, if only to focus on Mr. Phoenix’s remarkable acting.  The man is inconceivably a genius in transforming himself into the damaged World War II veteran–from his quirky posture in the way he seems to clutch his kidneys when he places his arms akimbo, to his style of speech that comes alive on screen in the most powerful way.

Were it not for this powerful portrayal, I doubt any amount of “processing” would help to understand this story.  And if there is such as thing as getting inside the head or the skin of a character, Mr. Phoenix has undoubtedly perfected that art.  Were it not for him, how would we know what it must feel like to lose all control while in the midst of setting up your client for a photo-shoot in a department store.  Or the madness of experimenting with paint-thinner in calibrating a cocktail.  Or the sheer misery of confessing to incest.  Or in going to look for your sweetheart years later only to meet with the mother instead.

Now, juxtapose all this with the cult following that Hoffman’s character commands, and slowly nothing really seems to make much sense.  But Hoffman’s portrayal of his character is also a terrifying work of art, script again be damned!  So utterly convincing is he of the “cause” and the “processing” needed for all human beings that you know eventually that the few dissenters including his own son’s voice is perhaps the only genuine article to be heard in the midst of all the drivel that is churned out by him from his books and revival meetings.

A special note must also be made to Amy Adams’ character who portrays very convincingly the ultimate power she wields on the man she calls husband.

And where is the redemption in all this?  I don’t know, but we are drawn to focusing on Phoenix’s character, Freddy, in whose effort of becoming free of the external force of the master does he seem to find some meaning in finally coming into his own.  And although we might not be able to fully identify with Freddy’s strange and flawed self, perhaps the reward lies in gaining a greater understanding of one’s own humanity and that of others.

I doubt that this film will go down in the annals of filmdom as one of Hollywood’s unforgettable works of art– if anything, it might be forgotten by this time next year, but it will certainly go down as one of the most brilliant performances by Joaquin Phoenix.