Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza is made up of complicated and interesting characters, but at times, the film can be off putting to watch—though this discomfort is cloaked almost too well in a vibey throwback aesthetic. Set in 1973, the film follows the relationship between 15-year-old Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) and 25-year-old Alana Kane (Alana Haim). It is a relationship built on infatuation that awkwardly straddles the line between romance and friendship. Yes, it sounds inherently problematic from just the synopsis alone, but that is seemingly the point. Valentine is based on real-life actor and producer Gary Goetzman, a friend of Anderson’s and whose life largely dictated the film’s storyline. Anderson’s comedic script doesn’t necessarily glamorize groomers or pedophilia but instead wallows around the idea, attempting to dig into what makes these two people, who continually find themselves in the company of one another, tick.
Licorice Pizza has many of the tropes we’ve come to expect from Anderson—it’s set in the iconic San Fernando Valley, has a dialogue-heavy story and strong performances. Unfortunately, this time around, it doesn’t work nearly as well as his other movies. The film isn’t bad per se but is instead more frustrating and underwhelming—certainly not essential viewing unless you’re an Anderson aficionado. One of the film’s strongest elements is the Kane family, played by Haim’s real-life sisters, Danielle and Este (who make up the soft-rock, LA-based band HAIM that Anderson has directed several music videos for), and their father, Moti. Other highlights include a very good soundtrack (featuring Paul McCartney, David Bowie and Nina Simone, to name a few) and the seemingly effortless and natural performance of newcomer Cooper Hoffman, whose late father, Philip Seymour Hoffman, worked with Anderson on all but one of his films made before his death.
Valentine is a young, confident, aspirational and talented man who takes an interest in Kane when he sees her working as a photographer’s assistant during picture day at a high school. In a scene filled with long tracking shots and natural dialogue—more Anderson elements—he asks her out to dinner, which she declines, noting their age difference and other things about his unique personality. But then she does show up to dinner, finishing the night off by giving him her number. We follow their story throughout the rest of the year—Kane steps in to be his chaperone on a press tour for a small film role, they go into the waterbed business together and they navigate the impacts of the year’s infamous oil crisis. Though Valentine and Kane’s characters are equally important to the film, Kane is really the one the film revolves around. Things don’t take an explicitly pedophilic turn right away, until, during a fight and fit of frustration, she shows him her breasts after much begging on his end.
By the film’s end, it’s apparent that Kane is, in fact, the antagonist despite Valentine’s active pursuit of her. She’s antagonistic toward herself—particularly in her inability to grow up and make decisions and break off her relationship with Valentine despite knowing that hanging out with a teenage boy is wrong for someone her age. She also cannot stop continuously subjugating herself to men that only show her attention to get something for themselves. That last scenario is even the case between her and Valentine, though their interactions are, admittedly, much more wholesome. If Valentine bags Kane, he looks mature beyond his years, and by stringing him along, Kane feels validated—like she finally wields power and has control over an aspect of her life. Lacking confidence, Kane caters to any man who pays attention to her, even as they repeatedly use her as a prop for their goals and interests. There’s councilman Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie), who uses her to cover up his homosexuality during his mayoral campaign (Wachs’ story is inspired by real events, and he ran his first mayoral campaign in 1973), as well as actor Jack Holden (Sean Penn)—inspired by Hollywood legend William Holden—who treats her as just another up-and-coming star but has no interest in caring for her. Through it all, Valentine is the only one genuinely interested in Kane’s well-being. But though he’s more innocent than the other men, his interest also feels grounded in achieving his goal of getting the older woman who caught his attention back in that very first scene.
Licorice Pizza is a character study soaked in the tropes of Anderson’s love for films set in the San Fernando Valley—think Magnolia and Punch Drunk Love—and it features a lot of dialogue from numerous famous actors. In these aspects, Anderson succeeds in creating another picture that is uniquely his. The problem is that despite all the aesthetic glitz and prestigious filmmaking, it’s just not that exciting. It’s too long, and the plot is meandering. Even the notable actors that fill several supporting roles tend to fall somewhat flat. Maya Rudolph, Anderson’s partner, makes an appearance as an assistant to a casting director, which is fun but too brief; Mary Elizabeth Ellis plays Valentine’s mother in a role that feels like it should carry more weight than it does; John Michael Higgins is funny as the cringeworthy and racist owner of Los Angeles’ first Japanese restaurant, but the characteristics his role employs feel tired. Most notable is Bradley Cooper who plays Jon Peters, hairdresser and boyfriend to Barbra Streisand for nearly a decade, but his scenes are almost desperate and painfully overacted.
When things finally crescendo with the kiss between Valentine and Kane finally happening in the film’s final moments, it feels like a long time coming and is ultimately disappointing in its delivery. Anderson could have made worthwhile and uncomfortable commentary on a common relationship dynamic—an underdeveloped adult grooming a mature-for-their-age child—but the ending officially makes Licorice Pizza a feel-good love story about a complicated but meant-to-be couple growing up beside one another in the Valley. Perhaps that’s because it’s somewhat based on Goetzman’s life. Even so, Kane is an adult, and her first love shouldn’t be with a teenage boy. Ultimately, just like licorice and pizza, the end, and thus the rest of the film, just doesn’t go down right.
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