Paul Thomas Anderson & Illustrating Separation

A visual motif in Punch-Drunk Love and There Will Be Blood.

Anderson frames Barry and Lena's first encounter in a two-shot, with ostensibly natural lighting that nearly obscures Lena's face from view. Upping the sense of anxiety Barry is experiencing having to interact with a new, attractive woman, Anderson manages to capture a streaking lens flare right in between them, visually demonstrating the barrier between them. When Lena finally walks away, the camera follows and the light-barrier is removed.

Here, Anderson places the camera on top of an occupied table, using the menu in the foreground as a wall to separate the father and son on a two-dimensional plane. This foreshadows the extreme estrangement between the two characters that we see several years later. While the light-barrier in Punch-Drunk Love was ultimately broken through Barry finding real love, this wall is both literally and figuratively more concrete, and proves unbreakable as Daniel Plainview descends into insanity.

Trafic

Trafic

dir. by Jacques Tati

1971

Just four years after the commercial failure that was Tati's magnum opus, Play Time, the Frenchmen's subsequent and ultimately final narrative feature plays a bit like an addendum to that film, created with a fraction of its budget (and brilliance)--but with its eyes still set squarely on the target of excessive technology and modernization. What's disturbing about this go-round is that M. Hulot is now an inventor of such ridiculous technology, the designer of a camping trip car with a built-in oven, shower, and a horn that doubles as an electric shaver.

It initially appears that Tati has finally given in to the rapidly changing world, but no viewer familiar with the director should be surprised by the liberating conclusion. After witnessing what he did with 1.87:1 aspect ratio in Play Time, it's a bit despairing to see him return to the boxy 1.37:1, but Tati seems to recognize this. We're almost immediately treated to some stunning extreme depth tomfoolery (see: first image), in a stadium that feels much smaller and claustrophobic when it's later filled up with cars (theme! theme!). Still, a.r. is not really the problem here, as this is simply a "minor" work in comparison to Play Time and Mon Oncle, with less risible gags and a smaller scope.

That said, I'm being way too hard on the film -- there are plenty of inventive visual jokes (though considerably less from the sound department) and the last ten or so minutes are Tati firing on all cylinders. It's undoubtedly the weakest of his four Criterion-released works, but truthfully, there was nowhere to go but down after Play Time. The big joke in Trafic is that everyone's going nowhere fast (more quickly and cleverly conveyed in Godard's 1967 Week End), but Tati is essentially taking a second trip around the block here. Fortunately it's a pleasant trip.

Sorry for all the auto-metaphors, it's simply too easy and self-satisfying a device not to fall back on. Image above is from a wonderful closing montage of windshield wipers that match the drivers' personalities.