#5: The Master

“That’s a pussy. A lady’s pussy… That’s two pussies, touching – see, right there… That’s a cock going into a pussy… That’s a cock, only upside-down.” All right, that’s enough RedTube for one night…

These are actually Freddie Quell’s (Joaquin Phoenix, in top form) first lines, as he is presented with a series of Rorschach prints. It’s quite an understatement to say that he has a one-track mind. Films this year such as A Dangerous Method and Killer Joe have touched on Freudian theory, but The Master is Freud in motion. Freddie is a living, breathing embodiment of the id. He only cares about two things: fighting and fucking. And drinking his home-made moonshine (distilled from gasoline, paint thinner and God knows what else). I guess that makes three things. Freddie is an animal, a slave to his lust and violent urges. He acts rashly, never considering the (sometimes fatal) consequences of his actions. But he can’t help it. He can’t control himself. So another man tries to control Freddie himself.

Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman, sublime) is more than an L. Ron Hubbard caricature. He is, in his own words “a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist and a theoretical philosopher. But above all, I am a man, a hopelessly inquisitive man, just like you.” Dodd is the super-ego, trying to make sense of our chaotic world. He has devised a convoluted theory to rationalise our existence. He uses his fine-tuned rhetoric and smooth charisma to convince his followers. Whereas Freddie lusts for fleeting physical pleasures, Dodd longs for the respect and unquestioning obedience of his peers. Freddie’s dominion is purely physical, Dodd’s is intellectual. Freddie is remarkably straightforward about his ambitions. (Bored, he passes a nearby woman a note: “Do you want to fuck?”) Dodd’s goals are less overt. But he needs others to vindicate his own beliefs, so that he can convince himself that he has discovered some ultimate truth about human nature and our universe.

Dodd believes that a man’s original state is of perfection: borrowing from Nietchze the concept of the Ubermensch (Superman). And it’s his mission, his “cause” to restore mankind to this flawless state. But the wild and restless Freddie proves his greatest challenge: is he can’t tame this beast of a man, his theory is completely undermined. The Master does have a plot. But it’s the same way Lethal Weapon has a plot: it’s the impetus for the two leads to play off each other. A battle rages between super-ego and id, a conflict between totalitarian control and feckless freedom. And it rages deep within us all. We the audience are the ego, the conscious mediator between these two unreconcilable forces that threaten to tear us apart at the seams. Each yearn to master us. Neither can ever succeed.

So the Oscar nominees are out today – and this fine film didn’t even get a look-in for Best Picture. It made no money so it’s hardly surprising. It’s not a film competition, it’s Hollywood’s annual political race. And the Weinsteins have already lost their crown to the most influential man in Tinseltown: Steven Spielberg. Still, Lincoln looks good and I won’t begrudge it if it goes on to win. 

I’m busy studying for exams at the moment but I promise to have #4 up in the next 48 hours. It’s the proud winner of the “Me and Cloud Atlas are Bringing Racism Back – you know, like Justin Timberlake Brought Sexy Back” award.