This sounds right. There is also the possibility of a dangerous alignment of the superego and the inner child (of authenticity and criminality.) There is a personality type that can be ashamed of its virtue as a kind of compromise or cowardice. 'I should be true to my anti-social desire to get the most out of this life. I should just let my rage or my lust run free, even if it gets me killed.' .
Yeahhh, agree. There's some literature (mostly french) on the Marquis de Sade along these lines. The weird thing about his monstrosity is how meticulous it is.
100 Days of Sodom, for instance, doesn't feel all that animal at all - it's more like an exhaustively worked out system of perversity.
Now I'm not personally this 'crazy,' but I understand the position. I can hear that monster grunting in the basement. On the other hand, I think being aware of that monster is one way to keep that monster in check. This is just the old idea that large scale evil tends to be done in the name of the good. Mobs and fanatics can become this monster all while imagining themselves the agents of virtue.
Very much agree with this as well. While the tendency of my post was to try to minimize the element of monstrosity, I think it would be dangerous to propose some state (of being) where everything's been smoothed out so well that there's no longer any need to take into account monstrosity at all.
Oh yes. Great director. I watch everything he does. — syntax
Ok awesome. So of course there's a lot going on in his movies and they can't be reduced to any single theme. Nevertheless, I think there's a very strong through line that deals with exactly the kind of stuff we've been talking about. Let me know to what extent you think this reading (inarticulate child/controlling parent) works:
Starting with
Punch-Drunk Love.
Starting here because I think this is where PTA really begins to deal most explicitly with the inarticulate rage of the child-like part of ourselves. Barry is a kind of caricature of those who meet the demand that we become an adult with an anxious superficiality. Everything about him is low-rent and just-barely-making-it (selling crap out of a garage etc) but he still insists on his fancy suit, even when everyone around him sees it (rightly) as laughably out of proportion to what he actually does.
His relationship to women is totally tarnished by his sisters. They mercilessly undermine him, at every term. His whole existence is an attempt to maintain a facade of legitimate adulthood while dealing with a simmering rage in the face of these humiliations. These humiliations largely come, unannounced, through the phone. His way of expressing his frustration is through simple, unthinking violence.
And, significantly, the only way he can think to attempt intimacy is also through the phone. He deals with intimacy the same way he deals with business - he wants to keep things at a safe, superficial level. But it doesn't work. He taps into a deeper structure with a severe, threatening core (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), which assails him brutally trying to get payment. He was looking for intimacy but we got was: manipulative woman trying to use him, backed by an almost archetypical vengeful force.
But Barry doesn't confront. Instead he looks for an Elsewhere he can go by quietly manipulating the world. Find the inconsistencies (like a poorly calculated pudding promotion) and use to it go to Hawaii.
This is a false solution. As soon he's back, he's still hounded by p hoffman et al. Everything comes to an end only when he confronts him
with the phone.
It'd be a happy ending, only he promises to stay close to Lena by using his frequent flier miles to accompany her around the world. I don't know if this intentionally symbolic, but by using something ill-earned (earned through quiet manipulation ) he undermines his heroic standing-up. And I think it does matter because
There Will be Blood
The role of the protagonist has switched. Punch Drunk Love sees PTA identifying (or asking us to identify with) the impotently-raging schlemiel, against the malevolent controller. Here things get switched around. We recognize Daniel Plainview's massive flaws, but we still respect him, or are at least in awe of him. (want to emphasize this. There Will be Blood is certainly not a celebration of Plainview, but its most sympathetic to him.) Paul Dano, on the other hand, is seen as a shrewd manipulator. He's contemptible, and the movie is basically about how Plainview's skilled attempt at control is ever-shadowed by a weak manipulator with whom he has to vie.
The way I understand this is PTA identified with Barry in Punch-Drunk Love, embraced his standing-up to the distant controller, but has now go on to identify with the controller himself, and to be haunted by the strategms of the weak, manipulative part of himself. The outcome is sheer bitter humilation (the bowling scene, i drink your milkshake.) The end is so absurd and comical in relation to the tenor of the rest of the movie but I think that's the point. All of this struggle ends in a bizarre, childish humiliation that the director and audience recognizes has been won at the expense of Plainview's soul.
There are no women, really, in
There Will be Blood
So
The Master: Already mostly said what I wanted. But instead of identifying with either character, the movie focuses on the dynamic itself, and what's gone wrong.
Skipping
Inherent Vice for now
Phantom Thread
So the protagonist is also super concerned with control. Also super concerned with an endless supply of ideal women, each of whom he can use as a muse, for however long it works, then discard them. I have a lot to say about this movie but I'll try to sum it up quickly, because this post is out of control. One woman is not discarded. Why? Once she realizes that he's not going to come out and dance, or do anything enlivening ever, she very firmly begins to negotiate with him (in a very weird, maybe unhealthy way, but still) He will be in control when he needs to make the dresses. She will stay on for that, but only if he is willing to weaken himself and depend entirely on her, periodically.
Personally I think this kind of thing is only the beginning of a potentially much more healthy negotiation, but its at least a right step. They do go out and dance, but its a slow waltz in a mostly empty place. Baby steps tho.
geez, tldr; But basically I think that this movement kind of works as a intricate dramatization of this:
So the monster I mention is also a friend. We've got to negotiate with the little bastard. He's a threat to life and yet the source of what makes life worth preserving. (Or is this little bastard a she?)