Pretty Good

Powerful

Fantastic!

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

Worst film ever. Don't see how it was ever made, much less receive rave reviews and Oscar nominations. Are they kidding us? Disjointed, makes no sense, a hodgepodge of scenes that don't fit. Has the film industry degenerated to the point where we give up all hope of being entertained? Are we expected instead to play mind games with the producers? No thanks, I prefer crosswords.

None of the acting is bad, but man, what a pointless story. One of those things where it is in fact so pointless that you figure it out before the end, but sit there like a dummy waiting for it 'just in case' there is some kind of closure.Pointless.

I often think to myself while watching films that he who over-analyses brilliance often misses it. There are plenty of great films that are not perfect. If you put your critic's hat on, you can pick at anything. But to do that, you often miss real greatness. Great movies are often more than the sum of their parts.But, occasionally, a movie can be less than these. "The Master" boasts at least two extraordinary performances. Its direction, as always from PT Anderson, is flawless. It even has a singularly unnerving score from Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood.What went wrong? It feels like the movie is missing some negligible, yet essential, ingredient, holding it all together. For one thing, the movie is basically without resolution. It begins, markedly, where it started. There is a lot of trouble, pain, up on the screen, and no answers, not that movies require these. But no resolution, and a lack of momentum that makes Anderson's refined structure of his film seem slipshod.The film's focus is, unexpectedly, not on Seymour Hoffman as the cult-leader, but on Joaquin Phoenix as the deeply troubled, alcoholic, sex-obsessed WWII veteran in his thrall. The sense is that these are both men in deep pain, with different strategies to hide it, but no real way of dealing. Hoffman, as Lancaster Dodd, reacts with surprising anger at a stranger who questions him, calling the conversation a "grilling" - though it's nothing compared to the "processing" he subjects the members of his cult to.Despite being enthralled with Dodd, Phoenix as Freddy Quell never stops drinking, and while watching him perform one day, imagines all the women in his entourage naked, showing his sexual obsession never abated, either.This is a movie without resolution, and perhaps that's the point of it, to show that Dodd's instructions were empty. Unfortunately, this disturbing, unsettling film also begs comparison with the much-less seen, though superior, 1990 movie, "The Rapture".

Seen at the Viennale 2017: the story is not right (to me). The master (played brilliantly by Seymour Hoffman, 10 stars for his acting!) is preaching his philosophy of the character-development of human beings. And his theories go far: happenings in past lifes have effect on today's life of a person. But in the story itself it all collapses down to a simple failed love in the current life of Freddie Quell (completely over-acted by Phoenix - no wonder, he did not get an Oscar). Who ever tried a similar treatment for his own psyche, knows that true problems go so much deeper, than a missed love! Anderson was not able to catch the complexity (and possible beauty) of his subject. And it's really a shame - The Master was filmed onto 70 mm. And the festival here in Vienna showed a 70 mm copy on analog projection. Beautiful pictures and easily understandable spoken words. Overall, a missed opportunity, because of a lousy script.