‘Magnolia’ made me want to write about movies. Then Hollywood stopped making movies like ‘Magnolia’

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As a film enthusiast who has traversed through the labyrinth of celluloid dreams for over two decades, I can’t help but feel an acute sense of melancholy when reflecting upon the cinematic landscape that once was and what it has become today. My journey began with the captivating tapestry of “Magnolia,” a film that not only ignited my passion for storytelling but also laid the groundwork for my career in the entertainment industry.

So now then.

This is the story of a budding cinephile who stumbled upon an unusual film and resolved, insofar as any 13-year-old can set firm intentions, to spend the rest of his life watching, and writing about, movies. An eighth-grader cross-legged on the floor of his parents’ bedroom, clicking the channel to IFC and finding the trio of uncanny coincidences that make up the film’s prologue. A solitary, bookish boy whose dreams came true, after a fashion, who proved that movies really can change your life — albeit in ways you can never quite plan on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just something that happened. This cannot be one of those things. This was not simply a matter of chance. These strange things happen all the time.

After all, they happened to me.

Among countless movies and TV shows I’ve watched throughout my life, none from a single viewing left as profound an impact as the evening I came across “Magnolia,” the captivating 1999 masterpiece by Paul Thomas Anderson, which delves into themes of life, mortality, and destiny in the San Fernando Valley.

In a more expressive way, I deliberately chose the term “caught” because at that moment, I felt as though I had grasped the movie, ensnared it, almost surreptitiously. The film’s cast of characters, all grappling with alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicidal tendencies, seemed numerous and overwhelming to me. It struck me as forbidden – much like pornography or my initial attraction towards other boys, a secret I guarded carefully from others.

Years prior to obtaining a driver’s license and a Blockbuster membership, I had no background or experience, either from my upbringing in a typical Boston suburb or through previous films, to prepare me for Anderson’s powerfully intense portrayal of various ages, including 33 and 63. So, I was completely unprepared for the profound impact “Magnolia” had on me, similar to how the monolith affected the apes in “2001: A Space Odyssey”. Before any strange occurrences like frogs falling from the sky, “Magnolia” served as an enigmatic and unavoidable presence in my life, arriving without explanation or context.

If you haven’t watched “Magnolia,” you might find it unusual when I say that the movie doesn’t follow a typical plotline. Instead, it delves into themes of disappointments, betrayals, and absences from the past. However, what captivated me about this film—what continues to intrigue me—is its focus on characters and their circumstances. It’s less about what individuals do, but rather how they interact with each other.

The hub of its universe is mighty TV producer Earl Partridge (Jason Robards), now on his deathbed, worried over by his hospice nurse, Phil Parma (Philip Seymour Hoffman), and his much younger second wife, Linda (Julianne Moore), and whose estranged son, Frank T.J. Mackey (Tom Cruise), leads seminars for incels called “Seduce and Destroy.” On Earl’s flagship program, “What Do Kids Know?,” which previously minted a minor celebrity in now-grown quiz kid Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), child savant Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman) has led the winning trio to the cusp of an all-time record, while host Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), in the final stages of cancer, hopes to repair his relationship with daughter Claudia (Melora Walters), strung out on cocaine and newly involved with bumbling cop Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly).

The intricate network of relationships depicted in “Magnolia” forms the main narrative, interwoven with Aimee Mann’s powerful soundtrack and Jon Brion’s energetic score. Despite having only two scenes involving the entire cast in three hours (one being a storm reminiscent of Exodus, another a group sing-along to Mann’s song “Wise Up”), the film manages to keep viewers captivated due to its intense and passionate execution. Characters swear, shout, rant, and rage. They experience emotional breakdowns publicly (notably, Moore’s Linda berating a suspicious pharmacist) and privately (Cruise’s Frank lashing out at his father’s impending death). They kiss, faint, declare their love, and resist being taken advantage of. Simply put, they live. In “Magnolia,” life is inherently, unavoidably, powerfully dramatic.

You can see the appeal for a kid desperate to escape the dull town where he grew up.

I kept up with my part of our agreement, and simultaneously persuaded my friend Sam that we shouldn’t be two more interns at our parents’ workplaces during Career Day. Instead, I emailed Jay Carr, who was the film critic at the Boston Globe at that time, suggesting we shadow him instead. Amazingly, he agreed! He invited us to a movie preview at the Prudential Center (John Singleton’s “Baby Boy”), took us out for lunch, and answered all the questions needed to complete our task.

In no time, I found myself dashing forward in my film-related journey. Within just a few years, I established a movie critique column titled “Movies by Matt” at our college newspaper. My initial review was an enthusiastic thumbs-up for the movie “I Heart Huckabees,” which I still strongly endorse. This early work helped me secure a spot in USC’s film school, where I honed my skills in entertainment journalism (even getting a glimpse behind the scenes at the press conference for “Brokeback Mountain”). I also started a new column called The Filmgoer and eventually climbed up to become the lifestyle editor. During college, I secured my first paid position, reviewing four-wallers for the L.A. Weekly, and crossed paths with my mentor, Anne Thompson from Indiewire, who would play a crucial role in transforming my pastime of watching movies for free into a full-fledged career.

Initially, when I began to compose this piece, I must confess that my intention was to infuse it with the same melancholy tone as Earl’s poignant deathbed soliloquy about “the damn regret.” However, after a quarter-century of dedicating my life to cinema, I find that the reality is far from the rosy picture painted by my youthful aspirations. In an era characterized by artificial intelligence, financial algorithms, and the all-powerful tax break, our industry is now defined by middlebrow conventions, corporate protection, and Silicon Valley’s supposed insight. Consequently, “Magnolia,” which once seemed like a miracle, now appears as an impossibility.

Michael De Luca, previously known for granting Anderson free rein (including final editing) on a film without initially reviewing the idea, now holds the position of CEO at Warner Bros. Pictures. This studio, owned by Warner Bros. Discovery, has recently gained notoriety not only for distributing films but also for halting completed productions.

Originally, the top 10 films in box office sales boasted innovative and sometimes controversial titles such as “The Sixth Sense,” “The Matrix,” and “The Blair Witch Project” – all recognized by The Times during their retrospective of 1999. However, today’s lineup consists mainly of sequels (nine) and a musical adaptation derived from “The Wizard of Oz”-inspired book.

As a devoted admirer of Anderson’s filmography, which includes masterpieces like “Boogie Nights,” “There Will Be Blood,” “The Master,” “Inherent Vice,” and “Phantom Thread,” I was disappointed to find that his latest work, “Licorice Pizza,” seemed to be swayed by the allure of nostalgia. A filmmaker I had long respected for his unwavering rigor appeared to have been softened by an overexposure to the industry’s risk-aversion. While I initially fell in love with his craft through “Magnolia,” I found myself unable to finish (let alone rewatch) his return to the San Fernando Valley with “Licorice Pizza.

Reflecting on my critique of “Magnolia,” I initially attributed my appreciation to a touch of nostalgia that perhaps colors my perspective. After all, the saying “They don’t make ’em like they used to” can often be interpreted as “I don’t watch them like I did at 13.” Yet, upon revisiting the film and retracing the early steps of my own career, I came to understand that the tale, eloquently narrated by Ricky Jay, is not a testament to fate or luck. Life isn’t merely a series of coincidences, gaining significance through repetition and echo. It’s also about the decisions we make in response to those coincidences. It’s about choosing to step back, to forgive (even if forgetting is difficult), to break free, to take chances when opportunity knocks. In essence, it’s about learning to “shoot your shot.

Maybe Hollywood can learn something from the style used in “Magnolia”. I chose to follow that approach, and look what came of it for me. Odd occurrences are happening quite frequently.

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2024-12-06 14:33