By Stephen Tronicek
Over the course of last year, I found myself consumed by the work of Paul Thomas Anderson. Early in the year, The Master, became my favorite film. Later, I did a rewatch of all of his films. I was a voracious consumer of Paul Thomas Anderson content. On my travels, I came across “Punch-Drunk Love: A Delegate Speaks,” a rather incredible essay written by Miranda July for the Criterion Collection copy of Anderson’s 2002 film. Not only was it extremely funny, but it brought a level of personal inspiration into the conversation. Here was a filmmaker who not only understood the film, but seemed inspired by it. Searching through July’s work, I looked for that inspiration…but couldn’t find it. The acidic nature of Me, You, and Everyone We Know and The Future both seemed to strangle their tenderness. Then I saw Kajillionaire.
To get the easy part of this out of the way, Kajillionaire is the second best film of 2020 (only barely falling to Kelly Recheirdt’s astounding masterpiece First Cow). It follows Old Dolio (Evan Rachel Wood) as she navigates her slow separation from her con-man parents (Debra Winger and Richard Jenkins) and self-actualization, after spending much of her life in financial cahoots with them (2). It is a film that analyzes class, masculinity, femininity in the modern age, and our relationship with our parents. Much like First Cow (and the film I’ll be comparing it to today), Kajillionaire is a film of momentous heart. It loves its characters and expects you too. If you do not, you might as well be a cold bastard.
But what deepened my appreciation for Kajillionaire further is the way it is informed by the 2002 work by Paul Thomas Anderson, Punch-Drunk Love. Please realize that I do not hope to minimize the achievements of Miranda July in writing this piece, but rather to expand the appreciation of her work through an exploration of techniques and ideas that she has adopted from the work of Paul Thomas Anderson.
To start, I’d like to examine the thematic similarities of the films and then expand this exploration into the way filmic techniques are used to express these similarities. The first similarity is found in the way both films explore the concept of love as a changing force in their protagonist’s lives. Barry Eagan (Adam Sandler) starts Punch-Drunk Love as an irritated and self-hating man, who following the advent of his romance with Lena (Emily Watson) is able to take steps towards self-actualization (3). One could be critical of the way that Lena only exists to spur on Barry’s self-actualization, but the moral complexity of whether or not Barry changes or just takes a step towards changing (again explored by Anderson in The Master, Inherent Vice and most viciously sweet in Phantom Thread) irons out any tonal problems that this could present. “God, how I wish you could just leave the tyranny of worry and self-loathing at some shitty mattress store in Utah,” (1) July writes in her essay. Similarly, Old Dolio’s self-actualization is kicked off by her encounter with Melanie (Gina Rodriguez), a young woman who Old Dolio starts to fall in love with. Menlanie and Lena hold a level of similarity in that they actively assert themselves into their respective protagonist’s lives. “…Lena [stalks] Barry a little…” (1) inserting herself into his life at his lonely garage. Melanie decides to take part in one of Old Dolio’s family’s schemes and eventually, through a rather selfish but loving act, takes money to call Old Dolio, “hun,” (2).
This love needs to contrast with something and in both films it contrasts both family and the outside anxieties of the protagonists. Barry spends the entirety of Punch-Drunk Love being pestered by his seven sisters who refuse to leave him alone and do not respect his privacy. He also encounters a phone sex line worker and her boss (Philip Seymour Hoffman) who refuse to respect him. Old Dolio spends the entirety of Kajillionaire in conflict with parents that can only see her human value through the material value of both themselves and Old Dolio.
Material value is a HUGE aspect of both films as well. Much of Punch-Drunk Love takes place at Barry’s job, a garage that he sells novelty items out of. Furthermore, Barry finds a loophole to exploit a frequent flyer miles program for all it is worth. The antagonists are also looking to exploit Barry. Similarly, the antagonists of Kajillionaire, Old Dolio’s parents, are looking to exploit her. Throughout Kajillionaire, Old Dolio’s parents are unable to show appreciation to her through any means other than the value of money, a factor that leads Old Dolio away from them.
All of these thematic ideas need to be conveyed visually and audibly. It is through the different filmic techniques that the films truly start to resemble each other. The most obvious filmmaking similarity is both films use of the 2.39:1 Widescreen Anamorphic Format. The wider frame not only requires that the films be staged as ensemble pieces (the framing of a 2.39:1 frame often incentivises the framing of multiple interacting characters on screen), but also the vertical crampedness of the frame and the distortions that come with the use of the Anamorphic format better display the character’s internal life. In Punch-Drunk Love this Anamorphic framing allows for the evocation of the grounded, but loose, ensembles of Anderson’s mentor and inspiration, Robert Altman. In Kajillionaire, the Anamorphic framing allows for the evocation of Anderson. Punch-Drunk Love and Kajillionaire understand that the Anamorphic format, no matter how naturalistic the lighting may be, creates a dizziness. The stretched bocha and lens artifacts create a world that is not of our eyes and yet all the while the wider frame consumes our periphery. Through this wide frame, both filmmakers realize the broadness of their stories. This is not the tall, conquering ratio that Anderson utilizes for The Master or Inherent Vice, but rather the broad view of both Barry and Old Dolio’s newly awoken eyes.
The hazy lens flares of both movies also suggest this. Also a product of the Anamorphic format, the lens flares in both films (though more specifically in Punch-Drunk Love) are used to represent the distorted (if for the better) view of the characters. When you are forced to self-actualize, the process does not feel concrete, but gleefully dissociated. Both films strive to capture that feeling.
This gleeful dissociation reaches its pitch in the form of abstraction. Again, this is much more forward in Punch-Drunk Love, which explodes into the sugary spurts of Jeremy Blake’s digital artwork everytime the emotions of the film cannot be contained by the vibrant 35mm frame. The flurry of colors blinks over the mix of Jon Brion’s woozy score and Shelley Duval’s performance of “He Needs Me,” from Popeye, (3). In Kajillionaire, this abstraction is much more contained and pointed. While early images of the film, such as a pink foam trailing down a wall, hint towards surrealism, the film only specifically breaks into this once during an earthquake that Old Dolio experiences with Melanie. As they stand in a dark bathroom, the pitch black of the bathroom becomes the universe. It expands as Old Dolio’s world expands, becoming suddenly solid, as Old Dolio realizes that she too is solid (2).
The similar thematic and filmic techniques on display circle back around and inform each other as I watch both of these films today. The focus on value that Kajillionaire foregrounds makes the disparity and sadness of the value in Punch-Drunk Love all the more effective. The feeling of elation and love represented in the utilization of Blake’s artwork and Brion’s score circles around to inform the great, dissociated, joy of the earthquake sequence in Kajillionaire.
Miranda July writes of Anderson’s use of, “He Needs Me,” in Punch-Drunk Love, “An open theft is joyful; it implies that these two men, Altman and Anderson, were so confident that they could share a song,” (1). As the widescreen beauty and great tenderness of Kajillionaire played out on screen, I saw that same joy. Two filmmakers confident enough to share, just like Barry and Old Dolio desperately need to.
- July, Miranda. “Punch-Drunk Love: A Delegate Speaks.” The Criterion Collection, 16 Nov. 2016, www.criterion.com/current/posts/4302-punch-drunk-love-a-delegate-speaks.
- July, Miranda, director. Kajillionaire. Plan B Entertainment, 2020.
- Anderson, Paul Thomas. Punch-Drunk Love. Columbia Pictures, 2002.
