After lengthy discussion, my friends and I concluded that The Master‘s meandering narrative is mimetic of Freddy Quill’s psyche, and that Anderson intentionally made an unsatisfying film whose intention, like Lancaster Dodd’s control of Quill, lies just outside our intellectual comprehension. Whether you buy that rationalization or not, The Master takes on Scientology on 70mm at a cost of $30 Million. And a bunch of people went out and saw it. Is it Anderson’s best film? I still can’t decide. But it’s a challenging, gorgeous, virtuosically-acted picture with monumental ambition.
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