there-will-be3.jpgOne of the distinctive things about the last years in film was the polarizing of bloggers and critics and others around either Joel and Ethan Coen’s No Country for Old Men or Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. I’m not sure what to make of it . . . it seemed that they were pitted against one another, that you had to take sides, almost, and choose one over the other. Maybe it was because they were so similar–both were highly anticipated and well-hyped. Both were from critical-darling (if not always Academy-Award-darling) filmmakers. Both have a small but vocal minority who seem to hate those filmmakers, who seem to think they are the devil incarnate. Finally, both are from the specialty divisions of major studios. It’s almost as if there isn’t enough room for two dark, edgy dramas in any given year.

Whatever the case, most folks in this country haven’t seen There Will Be Blood. It opened last month in just enough theaters to qualify for the Oscars. It opened here in my neck of the Alabama woods on Friday, and though I’m still processing it, here are some quick impressions.

First of all, despite all the hype, There Will Be Blood is a deeply conventional movie at heart. Sure, there is that over-the-top ending, where Daniel Day-Lewis’ propensity to over-act is given free reign, and its mirror image, the absolutely crazed baptismal scene earlier in the film. There’s the jangling, discordant, minimalist score, and the dominating–some would say over-weening–performance its center.

But in spite all of that, it feels old fashioned, like an old-time epic or one of those fifties pot-boilers such as Giant or East of Eden. Although Director Anderson is known for his long, sinuous takes, large ensemble casts (he’s an acolyte of the late Robert Altman) and his fluidly-edited style, there is very little of that in this film. The direction is straightforward and the narrative is linear. There is little cross-cutting, few virtuoso long takes, and only one instance I can remember of the use of flashback.

It follows one character, oil-man Daniel Plainview (Day-Lewis), as he descends into madness and destruction. Day-Lewis is on-screen in nearly every scene; it is his movie as much as anybody’s. As I am writing this, he’s just won the Screen Actor’s Guild award for Best Actor; that performance, at times over-the-top but always riveting, is the main reason to see this film.

It is clear that Anderson had it in mind to make a sprawling epic that would Say Important Things about the American experience. Its main themes seem to be about the sometimes destructive nature of family relationships (especially between fathers and sons) and on a larger scale, the interactions between religion, capitalism and progressivism in our country’s history. The film is only fitfully successful at stating these themes, largely, I think, because it is too sprawling. It tries to tie together too many details about Plainview’s life–it brings in too many sub-plots, runs down too many rabbit trails. And so it dissipates the thrust of those arguments about family and the American condition, and we’re left with a story about an oil man and his rise and fall.

And actually, that’s enough . . . I sat through the entire 2 hour, 38-eight minute running time riveted, not once moving from my seat. Not many films do that; the last was No Country for Old Men, as a matter of fact. It’s a testament to Anderson’s always-interesting screenplay and direction and–especially–Daniel Day-Lewis’ charismatic performance.

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