Filmography Ranking: Paul Thomas Anderson

For as long as I’ve loved movies I’ve never necessarily had a favorite director, but recently I’ve realized that it’s definitely Paul Thomas Anderson. I first saw Boogie Nights in early 2021, and as of writing this, I have now seen literally everything he has ever filmed that is available for public viewing (besides a few music videos). Below is my ranking of his feature films from “worst” to “best,” preceded by my thoughts on each of his short films just for fun. My ranking of these films changed a good bit throughout the process of watching them all, and it’s probable that eventually I would rank some of these a little bit differently, but for now I’m satisfied with how I ranked them. Some could perhaps be sort of interchangeable, but I went with my gut on which are truly my favorites. I’m doing less analysis of these films than I am just talking about how much I like each one of them, so this is more of an exercise in getting my thoughts on how much I appreciate Anderson’s work down than anything else. Still, I don’t regret any of the time I spent doing this, and I had a great time watching these films and growing to love so many of them. 

Short films:

The Dirk Diggler Story (1988) - This short film he made when he was just eighteen years old was where it all started. It would eventually go on to be remade as Boogie Nights, and while on its own it is nothing especially memorable or entertaining, it’s notable that The Dirk Diggler Story even exists in the way that it does. What a debut this is; Anderson, still in high school, chose to film a movie about the rise and fall of a male porn star with an all-adult cast. Aside from its obvious low budget, you would never be able to tell that someone so young made this film, and that is by far its most impressive aspect. The Dirk Diggler Story features some pretty basic dialogue, and it’s clear that not all of the actors have a natural talent for the craft, but the heart is there and that’s what matters. The film ends with a ridiculous montage of the characters having fun together that is noticeably out of character for Anderson, even this early on. There’s not much point in seeking this out for viewing unless you’re highly interested in Anderson’s career projection, but its existence fortunately paved the way for a much, much better film later on.

Cigarettes & Coffee (1993) - This is the point where you can start to recognize the seeds of his style as a writer and director, and that’s nice in and of itself. Cigarettes & Coffee is very similar in concept and theme to his actual debut, Hard Eight, and even features Philip Baker Hall, marking the start of his recurring appearances throughout all of Anderson’s work in the 1990s. There are some cool moments in this short, and I can appreciate the diner setting and indie style. Some of the characters I found kind of insufferable, and the dialogue style is very of its time, but it’s all more than forgivable. This isn’t essential viewing by any means but it’s pleasant and harmless for what it is.

Ballchewer (2002) - The first of five of the additional shorts made during the Punch-Drunk Love era, Ballchewer clocks in at only 36 seconds long and features Luis Guzman playing chess with a dog. It’s actually sorta funny.

Couch (2003) - Next up is Couch, in which Adam Sandler finds couches to sit on at a furniture store and farts. If it wasn’t for the farting I would’ve seen this more as a slightly interesting experiment with the mood of a furniture store but alas. Obviously they were just having fun making this, and had no intention of it being seen as a serious short film, but still. Now that I think of it, this is probably my least favorite entry in Anderson’s filmography.

Blossoms & Blood (2003) - This would be the first time that Anderson would piece together deleted scenes from one of his movies and release it as a short film of its own. Blossoms & Blood is a sweet little run-through of some of the events of Punch-Drunk Love, and serves as a nice reminder of the distinct mood captured by the film, but of course does not function very well as a standalone viewing. This is also Anderson at his most genuinely experimental, implementing various sequences of moving shapes, colors and sounds that turn out to compliment the accompanying scenes quite effectively. Overall this is a fun and interesting experiment in the filmography.

12 Scopitones (2003) - This is basically just Blossoms & Blood but more abstract; the short is essentially a series of swirling pictures and sounds from and inspired by Punch-Drunk Love. Sort of cool, nothing too crazy. It does elicit a certain subdued, trancelike atmosphere that I found interesting.

Mattress Man Commercial (2003) - The last of the extra material surrounding Punch-Drunk Love, this short sees Philip Seymor Hoffman jump off the roof of a mattress store and eventually fall onto the ground. I didn’t personally get a laugh out of this, but props to Hoffman for committing to this bit and putting his whole body into it for the sake of a one-minute short that hardly anybody would see. They really don’t make stuff like this anymore.

Back Beyond (2013) - Anderson would revive his practice of making a short film out of the scraps of one of his movies for Back Beyond, taken from footage from The Master. I don’t want to get too deep into my thoughts on The Master right here, but I will say that I’m so glad I watched this 20-minute cut of miscellaneous deleted scenes. Anyone who has seen The Master knows that it can be a frustrating viewing experience that leaves the viewer with a lot to chew on, but not much in the way of obvious delivery of theme or message. As much as I liked it and found it highly interesting when I watched it, I wasn’t able to say it fully clicked with me to the extent that I would’ve liked. As I was going through Anderson’s short films and got to Back Beyond, something clicked very suddenly and my opinion on The Master as a whole was entirely shifted by watching this collection of its deleted scenes. Like his other shorts made in this style, it doesn’t quite make full sense on its own without a prior viewing of its original film, but it definitely adds to the experience. It’s not that Back Beyond necessarily “explains” The Master, but seeing these scenes gave me more insight into the world of the film and I’m honestly grateful for its existence. Without it (spoilers), The Master would not be so high up on this list.

Everything in This Dream (2015) - This is Inherent Vice’s collection of deleted scenes. This one didn’t do a whole lot for me if I’m being honest, and it doesn’t add a whole lot to the mythology of its film. There’s nothing offensive or annoying about this short, but it’s ultimately a disjointed trip through the events of Inherent Vice that really does just feel like a bunch of scenes that were cut for a reason. If you like the movie you might get something out of this, but it’s forgettable in the grand scheme of the filmography.

Junun (2015) - This is probably the most out-of-place entry in Anderson’s catalogue, but it’s not one to be overlooked if you have any interest in its subject matter. Junun is the product of Anderson’s trip to India to document the making of a collaboration album between Jonny Greenwood (guitarist of Radiohead and score composer for numerous PTA films), Shye Ben Tzur (an Israeli composer), and Ben Tzur’s accompanying band of musicians, the Rajasthan Express. While we aren’t given much context as to why this album is being made or how Greenwood ended up embarking on this project with Ben Tzur, the footage is certainly interesting. I found myself genuinely nodding my head along to a lot of the music, and these recordings are especially fascinating due to the religious content of the songs. In western society it’s really not very often that we get glimpses into the worlds of eastern culture and their religious customs, and I personally enjoyed seeing that documented here. Not much about Junun implies that it has anything to do with Paul Thomas Anderson, and it has nothing in common with anything else he’s ever made, but strictly as a piece of documentation the film is a nice watch.

HAIM / Valentine (2017) - Anderson would once again return to a music studio setting to film the band HAIM record three new songs. This is practically a music video, but it is listed as part of his official filmography from various sources so here I am talking about it. The songs are cool I guess; I don’t listen to the band, but it was mostly just interesting to see Alana Haim out of the context of Licorice Pizza, which is basically the only thing I associate her with. 

For the Hungry Boy (2018) - This is the accompanying set of deleted scenes for Phantom Thread, and probably the only short of its kind in Anderson’s catalogue that could serve as its own standalone short film if need be. A large chunk of its brief runtime is dedicated to re-showing a version of one of the best scenes from the film, but other than that it’s a pleasant return back to the mood of Phantom Thread. 

Anima (2019) - Anima is another glorified music video, this time featuring Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke as he leaps and bounds across surreal cityscapes and such. I found this to be mildly pretentious and I just never felt myself immersed into whatever world Yorke and Anderson were trying to create with this. Some people apparently really like this, and there’s nothing especially wrong with it, but I wasn’t especially blown away. 

Feature film ranking:

9. Hard Eight (1996)

Hard Eight is almost always ranked as dead last out of his films on these lists, and so I hate to put it last here because it’s really not as obvious of a choice as conventional wisdom would have you believe. It’s true that it’s probably his simplest film in terms of overall scope, but to brush this away as merely his indie debut before he really figured himself out as a director would be a mistake. There’s more going on here than you would necessarily expect from this vein of movie, and while it does admittedly feel very close in tone and style to other 90s crime films post-Pulp Fiction, Hard Eight sets itself apart by throwing the audience for loops that prove an underlying intelligence. Instead of simply being a breezy Las Vegas movie about casino rats who sometimes pull guns out on each other, the film finds itself anchored by maybe the most underrated performance in all of Anderson’s work. Philip Baker Hall plays Sydney, part gentle old sage of the desert and part enigma with a shrouded past. Hall makes the absolute most out of what Anderson has written for him, and his somber introspection as an old man fits the surprisingly dark and moody atmosphere of the film perfectly. Also featured are perhaps slightly underwritten younger characters played by John C. Reilly, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Samuel L. Jackson, but each actor brings such charisma to their role that it’s easy to become immersed in their world. Anderson was only in his mid-twenties making this film, but you can easily identify a lot of themes and motifs that would go on to define his work: complicated or even broken characters searching for meaning and belonging, surrogate families, tragedy striking and characters having to make the best out of it, the weaknesses of men, and more. 

Hard Eight has aged well for a film of its kind, and while it may not stand out as the best Paul Thomas Anderson movie, it certainly holds its own as a project. This is an underrated film both within and outside of Anderson’s filmography, and while it may not always have the tightest pacing or most engaging concepts, it has plenty of personality and everyone is pretty much on their A-game. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, and while I can’t bring myself to put it above any other film on this list, I do consider this a worthwhile movie, especially for fans of Anderson. The fact that his worst film (in my opinion) is this good is truly testament to his prowess.

8. Inherent Vice (2014)

This movie has a polarizing reputation and has left a bad taste in a lot of peoples’ mouths, and it’s not hard to see why. Inherent Vice is long, aimless, tonally inconsistent, and completely hard to follow. I think even its biggest fans would have to agree with those statements. Like for many others, this movie, on paper, sounds like it was practically made for me. A beachy, 70s-set neo-noir with a stacked cast and a laid-back, vaguely surreal atmosphere seems like something I would eat up. Yes, I definitely enjoyed it, but I found myself scratching my head as well. This is Anderson at his least focused and most pointless, and this is without a doubt his most frustrating film when watched from most angles. Inherent Vice occupies an unusual categorization that seems inviting on the surface but ultimately will leave a lot of viewers unsatisfied. It’s too plot-heavy to be a hangout movie for a casual watch, but it also has no real interest in delivering any sort of traditional payoff that most films of this density have. Either you really, really have to be paying attention to every little detail of what’s going on, or you should just turn your brain off and let it wash over you. In many ways this is Anderson’s least accessible film, and I truly believe he made it bizarrely convoluted on purpose. There’s just so much going on, so many different tones and motivations and characters and subplots, and if that sounds appealing, then maybe this is for you. This is truly such a dense and drawn-out film that it’s hard to really click with it right away; it’s often said that Inherent Vice requires more than one viewing to truly form an opinion, and while I have only watched it once, I could see how that could be the case. 

There were plenty of moments throughout this that I liked a lot, enough to the point where it ended and I felt comfortable saying to myself that, indeed, I enjoyed the film as a whole. I love the way that the protagonist, Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), mostly wanders throughout the events of the film without much control over the larger forces at play. I love Josh Brolin as the ridiculously obnoxious cop who you come to really appreciate by the film’s end. I love the random psychedelic imagery and the way that everything just flows together. Inherent Vice is the film adaptation of the Thomas Pynchon novel of the same name, which is supposedly also somewhat dense and all over the place. Apparently much of the dialogue is lifted straight from the source, so it’s no wonder that this movie is difficult to keep up with; all of the exposition is being said in ways that are hard to process quickly. Nevertheless, this isn’t a completely dizzying film to the point where it can’t be enjoyed. This really might just be Anderson’s funniest work, and it happens to be one of those films that can be interpreted however the viewer wants it to be. The more I’m writing about Inherent Vice, the more I’m praising it, which might go to show just how it really can grow on you. This is a tough cinematic pill to digest, but it might be very worth it. 

7. Punch-Drunk Love

This is another one I hate putting so low, but when I look at the rest of the filmography I really can’t bring myself to place it any higher. Punch-Drunk Love is Anderson at his quirkiest and most relatable; Barry Egan (Adam Sandler) is one of the most realistic-feeling characters in any film he’s made. To say that Paul Thomas Anderson makes movies “for men” would be incorrect and a stretch regardless, but I don’t think it’s wrong to make the claim that some of his work strikes more directly into the male experience and everything that can be encompassed in that. Punch-Drunk Love is one of his most masculine-centered films, which is funny because it’s also one of his most tender and subtle. Ultimately, this is a movie about an emotional wreck of a man finally breaking through his obstacles and finding peace, in this case in the form of a relationship with a woman who loves him. Egan isn’t simply a timid, quiet man who needs to stand up for himself; he gets angry, defensive, aggressive, passionate. Showcased in his quest to make things work between himself and the woman he knows, deep down, that he loves is the painful realization of self necessary to do so at all. He’s a deeply imperfect man who is put in situations out of his control that give him the chance to do something he wants so desperately, but in order to make it happen he has to overcome the hurdles of his own anxiety that stem from his own self-doubt. This is a scenario that happens to people all the time, and to see it so eloquently put to screen is honestly special. 

Much has been said about Adam Sandler’s performance here, and rightfully so; it’s difficult to capture the specific characteristics of this type of person, even if they’re not a wildly unique individual. Equally as impressive, in my opinion, are Emily Watson as love interest Lena and Philip Seymour Hoffman as semi-antagonist Dean Trumbell. Watson embodies her quiet and somewhat delicate character well; she’s the type of woman who is always around but is usually just someone’s friend, or ex, or coworker. She’s the type of woman who has never been given much of a chance, just like Egan. Their connection, one of two people who are rarely main characters in stories, is beautiful and heartbreaking. The fragility of both of their personalities makes a connection difficult, but the way that they both need each other so badly, at their respective points in their lives, shines through. Anderson is very good at making the audience sort of fall in love with his female characters through the lenses of his male characters: Watson in this film, Alana Haim in Licorice Pizza, Katherine Waterston in Inherent Vice, Julianne Moore in Boogie Nights. Lena might not be the uber-charismatic one-in-a-million type, or even really the girl next door, but she’s perfect in the eyes of Barry Egan and that’s what matters. To wax poetic about the concept of love right now would probably be pointless, but Punch-Drunk Love is a film that does “realistic romance” well and hits on a lot of what makes love such a touching subject. 

6. Magnolia (1999)

I actually got the chance to see a screening of this at a theater, and before the film played, some guy came in front of the screen and gave a speech about why this was his favorite movie of all time. He was so enthusiastic and it was clear he really did love this film, and after seeing it, it’s not hard to understand why. Magnolia is a drama of absurd proportions that kind of has to be seen to be believed. Fresh off the success of Boogie Nights, you can tell Anderson felt like it was time to once again go all out with a lengthy ensemble piece, and he throws a lot into the pot here. Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, however you choose to look at it, most of it ends up working very well. Magnolia is an absolute flex of filmmaking capabilities; to make an 188-minute epic with a half-dozen main characters that’s mostly just about peoples’ personal struggles is such an impressive feat, and feels so quintessentially early-period Anderson throughout. The runtime might dissuade some people from giving it a chance, but I’ve watched two hour movies that felt much longer than this. If you’ve never seen Magnolia, it might be helpful to understand that the film is structured so that there are roughly seven revolving storylines occurring throughout, and each ends up being connected to another in some way. The storylines vary as far as how invigorating they are, but Anderson seems to be somewhat aware of this, giving more attention to the best ones. I could understand perhaps being slightly overwhelmed by the sheer scope of this film, but I can’t imagine watching this and not finding anything to take away from it. There is simply so much going on, so many genuinely powerful moments, so many great performances, and an ending that comes so out of left field in such a good way that it sold me on the entire film even harder. After watching almost three hours of melodrama, you’re suddenly hit with such a bizarrely breathtaking finale that makes you question the message of everything you’ve just seen. I want to talk about the ending, but I feel like it’s something that seriously just shouldn’t be spoiled. 

Like several other films Anderson has made, you can walk away from Magnolia with what you want to. Themes of moving on from abuse, growing up, finding meaning in oneself and others, and more all provide themselves to be latched onto and reflected upon. I personally loved the message, hinted at with varying degrees of subtlety, that life is truly absurd, and anything can happen to even the most lucky or unlucky of people. It’s a theme that I find to be quietly present in much of Anderson’s work, and perhaps here more than anywhere else it seems evident. Magnolia is such a sprawling film, with so much happening all at once, that it has almost no choice but to take itself decidedly seriously, at least for the most part. This is Anderson at his most melodramatic, and while there are plenty of thematic layers to peel back, the film does lack the sense of overarching self-awareness that most of his other films have. This is to say the film can be somewhat overwhelming in its no-holds-barred delivery of emotional gut-punches, and at times can be difficult to process due to the sheer amount of storylines; you are swept from one devastation to the next. There’s nothing especially wrong with this, but Magnolia will either wear you out or leave your jaw on the floor. Or both. And I would be remiss not to mention how well-casted this movie is. Tom Cruise as Frank T.J. Mackey is a truly incredible performance by basically any metric, and John C. Reilly and Melora Walters are ridiculously believable in their roles. This is a film that is sure to leave you feeling something. 

5. There Will Be Blood (2007)

There Will Be Blood is widely considered to be straight-up one of the greatest movies of all time, and probably rightfully so. It’s pretty hard to argue against this film. Many PTA ranking lists see this easily in the number one spot, and that’s completely understandable. However, with all sincerely due respect, this is my highly subjective list, and anyone who feels like my placement is too low can sleep comfortably at night knowing many would share the same opinion. I had never gotten around to seeing this before I knew I was going to make this ranking, and as I made my way through Anderson’s entire filmography, I ended up watching all of the other films before this one. Eventually I decided that I was going to save it for last, and so this was the very final piece of Anderson’s work that I checked off, shorts included. Over the course of watching all of these films, my ranking of them did change quite a bit, with a good portion of them growing on me upon reflection and with time. There Will Be Blood admittedly has had the least amount of time to sink in, but I honestly doubt my opinion of it will change much (although I never know). I more or less agree that this is as good as it’s often said to be. For whatever reason, I expected to find this somewhat overrated. While it may not have struck a deep chord with me like the films higher on this list have, I can’t bring myself to call it overrated, even for all of its praise. 

Not even thirty minutes into the film, I found myself saying “wow” under my breath multiple times at how well tension was already being built through music and cinematography, which are maybe the two of strongest pillars of this film’s quality. The sweeping, rolling landscapes of the west are captured perfectly; their danger and mystery provide a perfect setting for exploration, conflict, and disaster. Jonny Greenwood’s brilliant score hits all the right notes at all the right moments, ramping up suspense in some scenes and amplifying the fiery chaos of others. These two factors, combined with the general subject matter and Daniel Day-Lewis’s fully captivating performance as Daniel Plainview, turn this period drama into a full-on thriller. There are scenes that are the most unsettling Anderson has ever directed, and this is by far his most mean-spirited film. There’s a certain air of menace and terror that pervades throughout which makes the whole affair especially mesmerizing. Day-Lewis as Plainview is one of the most talked-about performances in cinema history, and I completely understand the hype. He’s on absolute fire here, completely convincing at every turn, making this film impossible to become bored with (even though it does sag slightly in its second hour). Day-Lewis has achieved a near-mythical status as an actor despite his relatively short résumé, and a large portion of the reason why is because of There Will Be Blood alone. 

When this film is at its best, its all-around quality is genuinely astounding. You notice how good this movie is; this is a film that grabs you by the collar and tells you exactly what’s up. On a purely technical level, this might just be Anderson’s crowning achievement as a filmmaker. After an impressive early run in the late 90s with relatively easy-to-digest ensemble pictures, and then the smaller-scale Punch-Drunk Love in 2002, Anderson disappeared for five years and then came back with this. The noticeable difference in tone and style between this and the films he had made previously would mark a turning point in Anderson’s entire career, and his work thereon would never be the same. There’s a ten year gap between the releases of Punch-Drunk Love and The Master, and right in the middle lies There Will Be Blood, standing alone as the darkest and most aggressive in the whole filmography. If I had to recommend a PTA movie to someone who doesn’t like PTA, it would be this one. There’s so much about this film that I haven’t even begun to talk about, especially how effectively it handles its themes of capitalism clashing with religion and how the nature of man ties into this conflict in such brutal ways. I respect this film a great deal, and I truly do love almost everything about it, but the reason it isn’t higher is only because I love the next four films so much.

4. Phantom Thread (2017)

I think I first heard of this movie when it was nominated for Best Picture back in 2018, and it struck me as something I would have basically zero interest in. A period drama set in high society London with a bunch of classical music playing in the background? Bore me to tears, why don’t you. I brushed it off for years until I decided to watch it over Thanksgiving break in 2023, and I was proven completely wrong about what I thought this film would be like. I was expecting something dreadfully slow, snobby in character, and with a central romance that might appeal most to old-fashioned women past the age of fifty. As it turns out, of course, there’s actually a lot of interesting and even subversive themes and dynamics within the film that you wouldn’t typically expect from a movie of this sort. 

Phantom Thread is about the relationship between a highly respected veteran dressmaker, Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis), and a younger waitress, Alma Elson (Vicky Kreips), who becomes his creative muse as well as his romantic partner. Reynolds is an emotionally distant, unagreeable perfectionist and artistic genius who lets very little get in between himself and his work, and Alma is his optimistic supporter who leaves behind her entire life to be with him despite his coldness and crushingly orthodox lifestyle. He has his moments, sure, but on the whole you really must wonder why she’s so determined to stay with him. Meanwhile, she annoys him constantly and disrupts his work and precious stability, and yet he never pushes her away. Their dynamic is probably the most well done portrayal of a “toxic relationship” I’ve ever seen in a film; these are two people who see right through each other, and despite all of their differences, recognize that they are ultimately what the other one needs in a way that pushes past glaring issues. It’s not a depressing story of a relationship falling apart, it’s not simply a story of a woman breaking a man out of his shell, and it’s not a corny forbidden love story. Alma knows she makes Reynolds vulnerable as much as he hates that, and she uses this to her advantage because she also knows that he can’t go back to living without her. She has the upper hand on a man who is used to having complete control over everything in his life, making for a deeply invigorating dynamic that feels powerfully believable despite its largely unrelatable conditions. 

It’s this tightly wound connection between the two lead characters that makes the film so hard-hitting, and luckily both are perfectly cast. Day-Lewis makes it look too easy and embodies Reynolds in a way that would probably be difficult for most actors of any skill level to pull off, but Krieps is the real star here. She brings such emotional complexity to Alma, one that alleviates all stiffness of her surroundings. Her character’s simultaneous surface-level delicacy and profound strength of will is apparent where most actresses might play Alma as too weak or too desperate. Phantom Thread stands out in Anderson’s filmography as the only film that deals more with the conflicts of being a woman versus those tied to being a man. In addition, there is a noticeable tinge of humor in this movie that feels different than that present in much of the rest of Anderson’s work; perhaps the more feminine quality to the film helps bring this out. I, of course, am not a woman and am not adequately prepared to provide a female perspective on any of this, but it’s not hard to notice that Alma is by far the most fleshed-out female character that Anderson has ever written. This is a slightly nasty movie when put under the right lens, and this isn’t a bad thing. Perverse in relation to other films of its ilk, Phantom Thread is a peculiar yet practically flawless display of a very specific kind of love, one that we can only be glad was captured this well and so tastefully. 

3. The Master (2012)

More than any other movie on this list, I’ve thought long and hard about The Master and what my thoughts on it even are. As of me writing this now, I would guess that I saw the film about a month ago. I had pretty high expectations for it going in, and right after I watched it, I knew I liked it a lot, but couldn’t quite put my finger on what I took away from it. This sort of frustrated me. There was clearly so much going on in The Master, and sure, I could grasp the basic themes, but I felt stumped and annoyed that I wasn’t reaching deeper conclusions with it. Of course, deeper conclusions will not be found with every movie, as is not the purpose of every movie. But The Master felt like one that this should be the case with. Then I watched Back Beyond, the short film pieced together from the deleted scenes, and everything clicked. I now consider this to be one of the best films I’ve ever seen, and maybe even in my top twenty or so favorites as well. 

There is almost too much to be said about this movie, or at least that could be said. Out of every film Anderson has made, this is the one that most possesses the quality of letting the audience take away their own subjective meaning. This is part of why some do not fully jive with The Master; things just happen without much in the way of story structure for over two hours and then the movie ends. It’s relatively slow without a traditional movie payoff, and can feel sort of distant, as if you’re watching a movie that doesn’t care that you’re watching it. No major revelations occur, and the characters don’t change much over the course of the film. These factors can lead to an alienating and confusing experience with The Master that has left plenty of viewers unsatisfied. This is Anderson’s most cerebral film (by a landslide, I would argue), and maybe his most pretentious if you want to take it there. But as someone who has developed a love for this film, I would definitely argue against the idea that this is some sort of try-hard, wannabe thought-provoking, fake deep nonsense. I think this is Anderson’s most soulful work, one that can provide a staggering level of reflection on almost anything. This movie could kind of be about anything that has to do with the deeper levels of the human experience, and maybe even beyond that into a realm that has more to do with the completely intangible forces at play in the universe that are so often pondered. Some think of this as a critique of Scientology, and it’s not hard to see why that conclusion would be reached, but I personally feel like that minimizes this film to a depressive extent. God, I could get completely carried away rambling about what The Master is and what it has to say, so I’ll try not to get overly worked up. 

If you can’t tell, this movie absolutely blows me away. I initially wrote down some notes when I first watched it in an effort to capture whatever takeaways I was having, and looking back on them now, I don’t necessarily still feel the same way. I felt like maybe it was some sort of commentary on getting in touch with our true selves, or maybe the value of believing in something more than oneself. After watching parts of the film again followed by further reflection I now personally feel like the ideas that seem most apparent to me are those of man’s weakness tied into the knowledge that we are ultimately powerless, and thus come together under this weakness to strengthen each other by sharing beliefs that make life feel more worthwhile. 

The main character, Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix), is an erratic, aggressive, undisciplined World War II veteran who can’t fit in anywhere he goes. That is, until he meets Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymor Hoffman), a gregarious, intelligent leader of his own religion, The Cause, which is seen by many as nothing but pseudoscience and smoke and mirrors. The Cause seeks to help individuals reach back into their past lives and undo the harm done there that has carried over into current lifetimes. Dodd is passionate about The Cause despite many questioning if he even knows what he’s talking about, and Freddie really does believe in what Dodd has to say. These are two dejected men, very different on the surface, who provide each other answers about what the answers to life’s problems are. There is really no telling if The Cause holds much merit, but it does to these men. Freddie has a hard time recognizing the beauty of anything in life, except for The Cause. He sees something in The Cause that helps him feel okay about everything that has ever happened to him, and all of the issues that haunt him and will continue to do so. The Cause points to events completely out of one’s control and blames them for one’s issues, just like so many tightly held beliefs in real life. I kind of feel like maybe this is also a film about why religion matters so much to people, but then again, it’s really up to the viewer. 

The Master is a movie that you can get lost in. There are so many hints towards signs and messages of what could be true and what could be communicated. There are several shots of nothing except the ocean water at different points in the film; and to me there really is something sort of ocean-esque about what this movie has to say. The vastness of the unknown and our ideas that account for what could be out there are two of the most powerful things that humans can comprehend. When I watch and think about The Master, I get the exact same feeling that I do when I listen to the Bobby Darin song “Beyond the Sea,” released roughly around the same time as this movie takes place. The feeling is that there are feelings, emotions, events, and powerful forces that have existed or taken place long ago, in timelines maybe beyond our reach, and it’s up to us to decide how conscious of this we choose to be. And there is so much beauty in believing that we can do that.

2. Licorice Pizza (2021)

Very few people who have ranked all of these movies place Licorice Pizza as high as I’m placing it now. I wouldn’t call this movie any sort of technical masterpiece, and I wouldn’t say it’s as perfectly executed as, say, There Will Be Blood or Phantom Thread. Obviously I consider this to be an incredible film, or else it wouldn’t be so high, but really the reason I have it at number two on this ranking is because it speaks so much to me personally. Of course I love this, I love hangout movies, ensemble casts, unconventional relationships, films with a “nostalgic” feel, stacked soundtracks, and so many other things that Licorice Pizza is and has to offer. It’s basically the perfect recipe for something that would interest me; I’ve seen it three times now (I don’t typically go out of my way to rewatch stuff) and yeah, it’s one of my favorite movies ever. 

As usual with Anderson’s films, I am of the opinion that this one is perfectly cast, and that everyone involved totally kills it. I love Cooper Hoffman as the lead, Gary Valentine. It makes too much sense, and fortunately he’s super charismatic and sells every line written for him, just like his father. Alana Haim is exceptionally believable as Alana, the twenty five year old woman who becomes wrapped up in Gary’s series of business ventures. Gary and Alana both feel like such real people, and their unorthodox, up-and-down relationship also feels painfully, heartwarmingly realistic. This isn’t really a love story, it’s more of a story about two people who just like each other and how that plays out through their friendship, which is just as enthralling. It would have been so easy to make this movie corny and childlike, but instead it captures so many specific feelings and moments that often come up over the course of a connection like this. Gary is forward with Alana from the start, but because Alana is older and knows that something with Gary is realistically kind of beneath her, she spends most of the movie going back and forth on whether she wants to give in to her obvious attachment to him. She’s out of his league in a lot of ways, but she’s also by far happiest when she’s with him and embracing their connection. 

If you’ve ever been really into somebody who goes back and forth on whether they like you back or not, then Gary will probably resonate as a character. The experience of being a fifteen year old having their first experience of really wanting somebody has maybe never been captured as well as it is here. The soundtrack is out of this world, combining iconic pop rock hits and an incredible batch of deep cuts from the 60s and 70s that compliment the mood of the film in a way that is perfectly fitting. So many of these songs are probably among my favorites ever, and it’s because of this movie. Licorice Pizza might not be the most mindblowing, life-changing film you’ll ever see, and for Anderson it’s certainly a step back from his more “sophisticated” output during the 2010s, but in my eyes it’s really one of the great feel-good movies. This film is close to my heart, and it’s the most purely enjoyable work that Anderson has ever produced. There’s something really magical about the dynamic explored between Gary and Alana, and if you can’t relate, then honestly I feel like that’s too bad. Licorice Pizza is such an in-depth portrayal of the excitement and embarrassment that comes from literally just having feelings for somebody, something that I feel like isn’t often examined accurately in film. I said something earlier about Inherent Vice being Anderson’s funniest, but really it’s this one. There are plenty of issues that someone could pick with this film, but I personally am of the opinion that they are overshadowed by the genuinity of the feelings and moments that Gary and Alana experience.

1. Boogie Nights (1997)

Boogie Nights has been one of my favorite movies ever (probably top ten or so) for some years now. It’s the first film by PTA that I saw, and to this day after having seen his entire filmography and having grown a love for so much of his work, I can’t bring myself to place this any lower than the number one spot. This usually ranks pretty high for people who have seen all of his movies, but it’s more rare than you would think for it to be number one considering how iconic and beloved the film is. Boogie Nights might not be the epic achievement of Magnolia, or the staggering powerhouse of There Will Be Blood, or the deeply personal Punch-Drunk Love, or whatever else. But what it is is everything a movie should be. It’s one of Anderson’s most straightforward stories with a pretty simple rise-fall-redemption arc for Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg), but the amount of energy, love, and power put into the film is astounding. Imagine being twenty six years old and making the masterpiece that is Boogie Nights. There’s a certain air to this film that you also get watching something like Pulp Fiction or Dazed and Confused; it’s a young director’s sophomore effort where they’re taking a big chance to prove themselves, and against so many odds, it works in basically every way. 

I have kind of a hard time truly explaining why I love Boogie Nights as much as I do, but I know that a large part of it stems from just how incredible the cast of characters and all of their journeys are. Not to mention the fact that literally every single scene is some combination of invigorating, inspiring, heartbreaking, and heartwarming. Even when this movie starts to take a much darker turn around the two-thirds mark, the incredible energy of it all pervades. Dazed and Licorice Pizza probably have my two favorite soundtracks of all time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a collection of songs used so well as in this film. The music of Boogie Nights is without a doubt part of the reason why it’s remembered as so fun and iconic. A large majority of scenes are complemented beautifully with a song that either ironically or unironically fits the mood perfectly; I go out of my way to listen to this non-original set of songs often just to feel the sheer energy that is this film (and because the songs are mostly really great). Everyone is so incredible. A better cast couldn’t have been dreamt up. Mark Wahlberg, Burt Reynolds, Julianne Moore, John C. Reilly, Don Cheadle, Heather Graham, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Thomas Jane, William H. Macy, Luis Guzman, Philip Baker Hall, Melora Walters, Nicole Ari Parker, Alfred Molina, I could go on but I love them all. There are few worlds that feel as lived in as the one created in Boogie Nights. You feel at home watching this group of people, despite their unrelatable occupations and circumstances. Anderson has never created a stronger sense of family than the one here, and at the end of the day, that’s kinda what his films are all about.