Licorice Pizza (2021)

Paul Thomas Anderson returns following his masterful Phantom Thread in 2017, starring Daniel Day Lewis in the lead role, and up until now Anderson has always had a big star at the forefront of his films. Not so with Licorice Pizza, his homage of sorts to the teen coming of age drama. Anderson cites American Graffiti (1973) and Fast Times At Ridgemont High (1982) as key influences, and you can see why throughout Licorice Pizza, including the title itself; a record store called Licorice Pizza can be glimpsed in the background during the opening credits of Fast Times. Licorice Pizza takes the best of its peers and combines those elements with teen memories of its director to create a story centered around the relationship between Gary, a fifteen year old budding actor, and Alma, a twenty five year old photographers assistant. First timers Cooper Hoffman (son of sorely missed Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Alana Haim (of family band Haim) are astonishing, drawing you into their topsy turvey relationship of quirks, arguments and quite wonderful invention. Despite being ten years his senior, Alana is fascinated by Gary with his innovation and confidence. “Do you think it’s weird that I hang out with Gary and his fifteen year old friends all the time?” she asks her sister. “It is whatever you think it is” her sister replies (or words to that effect). It sums the film up pretty well, we’re never quite sure what exactly their relationship is, and neither do they. It is what it is, and thankfully it’s a joy to spend time with both of them in whatever they’re doing in San Fernando Valley, a place Anderson returns to for the first time since Punch Drunk Love (2002). Licorice Pizza is frequently funny, and despite some highly amusing cameos (most notably a hilarious Bradley Cooper as well as a brilliant Sean Penn) it’s Alana and Gary who consistently carry the laughs. It’s difficult to pin down the film to a particular genre, it flits between them whilst carrying a vague central line, even finding time to include a poignant political sub plot involving Benny Safdie, one half of the sublime directorial double act he shares with his brother, the team behind 2019’s superb Uncut Gems. Shot gorgeously by Michael Bauman who has worked with Anderson on several occasions, he captures the feel of 1973 (the year American Graffiti was released) allowing you to almost smell the smoke in a restaurant frequented by our central duo, or inhale the atmosphere of San Fernando Valley’s streets. Although Anderson makes it easy to draw you into the scene, Licorice Pizza wouldn’t work without the correct casting in the main two roles, and here Anderson shows his loyalty to Hoffman and Haim, and is rewarded quite spectacularly. For Hoffman especially, the looming shadow of the troubled genius that was his Father could have been something that worked against him in an attempted acting career; instead, his portrayal of Gary is one that could even see him splattered across awards season. In terms of awards, the same should also be said of Alana Haim who absolutely sells the twenty five year old raw and honest young lady she’s portraying. Although his films are often amusing in part, Licorice Pizza is deliberately so throughout, and is probably the first Anderson film since Punch Drunk Love that could be sold as an out and out comedy. But that perhaps pigeonholes the film in a way that’s unjust, Licorice Pizza shouldn’t be pulled apart, it should be experienced, enjoyed, and ultimately, probably loved. 8.0/10