The Master (2012)

directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Christopher Gillotte

Receptionist: You look like you've traveled here.
Freddie Quell: How else do you get someplace?

In 2012, I was languishing. Disappointment devoured me, triggered by my own undoing. I felt hollow because of various failures, detours from how I had imagined my life to be. What I was told would happen came with bumps and obstacles and unforeseen circumstances. Friends were passing me by. There was a schedule and a "plan" and it had finally blown up. I hated all of it and found myself wallowing in pity, out of school, with no destination in sight. 

Like Icarus, given new freedom by the goings-on of mechanics and energy, I had been wantonness in my late teens. It was a calibration of sorts, thinking I knew everything when I barely knew anything. The decisions I was making were gaining more and more consequence, and I was still very much of the school that things always have a way of working themselves out. What I had failed to realize was that action is required, that definitively the only person you know you can trust and depend on is yourself, and that getting to any goal demands hard work and sincerity. I also gained a new perspective, suddenly and monumentally.

Upon viewing The Master for the very first time on that crisp autumn day in which I can still recall the way the air touched my skin, I found the emotional struggle I was dealing with tethered to the balance between Quell and Dodd. They are broken men looking for a way to connect with someone, while society steadfastly becomes complacent. The film is very literally about a cult, and the character foil could not be more obvious in its gradations of animal vs man, the wild vs the domesticated, the lost vs the guided, but what this film does better than any I have had the pleasure of viewing is how the emotional arcs of the two lead characters become the actual narrative. Anderson’s script provides ample evidence of Quell’s desire to have control as well as Dodd’s intent to make a connection with someone who looks up to him, both searching for purpose from separate ends of the spectrum. The magnetic force found between them is astounding.

In analyzing their journey one does not need to extrapolate if man is an animal or if there truly is a God. I can relate to Quell’s brokenness and I can admire Dodd’s fervor in his endeavor. I can feel the frustration release during their first processing session. Dodd has demanded Quell to stare at his past in a way he would never let himself—he never had the gall to stare into "what could have been.” Anderson saunters through an unwavering frame of Quell, badgered with his past, and it's a moment of cathartic bliss unbound. When Quell finally closes his eyes, I can take my sigh of relief. The same repetition of emotions wash over me when they bookend their crossing paths with Dodd’s crooning solo. In recovering the past, action has been demanded. These are moments of cleansing, truth filtering its way to the top, through the veneers of latency. 

My biggest epiphany came late in 2012 when I witnessed my own family from a distance. Because I spent more time with my then-girlfriend’s family, my senses dramatically sharpened as to the extent of the conditions I lived in. I was aware that no family is perfect, but it was a totally life-changing moment to finally see the writing on the wall. When one lives with so many behavioral patterns as normal, you cannot see how corrupt or how damaging or how skewed it is. The situation speaks to the different lenses through which we view life, in and out of the cultural niches we experience. Quell would certainly not object, as there exists the multitude of people who have thrown him out on the doorstep due to his insatiable habits. All of the places he has been could be described as a cult in some way, each one holding its grasp differently on its subjects. What he seeks, and what he finally finds comfort in, is his relationship with Dodd—a person who needs him, who in some ways admires him, but can also see the “scoundrel” cry for help.

I can relate to Quell as a damaged man, and to his briefly mentioned dysfunctional background—perhaps not to the same extent—but to a magnitude that meets par. I would even tell you my upbringing was a great one and that even these good things are not always peach dandies in the shade. Sometimes it takes a traumatic moment and years down the road to fully understand any given point in time.

The desire for perspective comes from Dodd. He is a family man who parades around with a secondary one of his making. Everything seems well via the facade, yet there remains a deep abiding skepticism that lurks. There is the very real possibility that everything Dodd has made has been futile among the ever-persistent pangs of existential dread. He wrestles with his personal philosophies in the wake of Quell. His family however keeps him together, and they each tend to subdued roles in the hierarchy (even if, like Val, they do not believe it). Perhaps fulfilling a dog and pony show for other misguided people, he truly does have concerns as to what life means and he aggressively searches for results. 

In our modern world, we are arrested with continually growing numbers of dysfunctional families, people renegotiating on the traditional roles once assigned and executed. The result from this phenomenon is exponential fragmentation of the unit and the self. The nuclear cohesion disintegrates. When men decline to partake in the pursuit of family, they wander the landscape uninspired yet restless, misguided and angry. Their natural strength left to inflict harm on the very people they should protect. This is the dichotomy exacerbated between Quell and Dodd, one man free to roam while the other is tame, one without any foresight while the other has a path. This isn’t singularly about roles but about the emotions that stem from displacement. Dodd’s composure breaks when his role is threatened, while Quell’s masculinity continually fragments without purpose. Quell may insist he goes with the wind freely, but he tragically wishes for someone to hold him.

This isn’t intended to mean Dodd is never angry, or never misguided in the minutia of his pursuit. People are flawed. The roles provided by society over hundreds of thousands of years have helped soften the edges. I was once young and naive (perhaps I still am in certain ways), and I once put too much stock in how society has progressed, losing sight of my strengths and never actively asking questions in pursuit of a result. I went to college because it was beat into my brain. I was relaxed in my worldview because of what pop culture told me. I did not have to be an active listener to attain the modern sacraments of sexual freedom and the negative outlook on manhood. The above, a process of osmosis.

Perhaps with such a heavy focus on mental illness more broadly in our modern times, the world has missed the forest for the trees. People are flawed for a multitude of reasons and yet we always attribute the cause to some functionality problem within the framework of an endless equation. Masculinity and femininity work hand in hand. Without the healthy existence of one, the other struggles. We conflate the historical importance of roles to a sense of claustrophobic binding and restraint, while it is absolutely true that we can be free willed individuals who fulfill themselves with institutional purpose. 

The ironic thing is I’ve described how displacement has been both a benefit and a detriment to my life; beneficial because I was able to see the flaws in my own family’s milquetoast madness, and detrimental because undefined purpose (or a lack thereof) in a society causes disintegration. Dysfunctional families exist in both scenarios. I once had the same emotional arc as Quell yet I manifest my future like Dodd. I share the ultimate desires of both. We all search for meaning whether we like to admit that fact or not and regardless of who we claim is in control.

Let me leave you with this, dear reader: a mere ten years ago I was single, uncommitted, "free" by society's updated standards, and lost as to where my future would go. My path did not align with the true desires I had and I additionally abandoned any agency in the process. In 2022, I am a working man who provides for his family and has redefined my purpose in roles society may deem trite and cliche and overdone. The Master is ten years old, and my affinity for this film could be amplified by what some in the professional world call “nostalgia”—how I still think and remember that day I first saw this film upon release—but even after this umpteenth viewing I realize the film wants you to wander with it. It’s not so much about the themes as it is a time to emotionally explore these characters. Like my 2012, it’s a revisit to a languishing, a place where I can have my comforts but also be reminded of how damaged I once was and how the healing never stops. Take it from Mrs. Dodd—the only person in the film with control: This is something you do for a billion years or not at all.

Christopher Gillotte is a glazing estimator, an Eagle Scout, and an avid outdoorsman from Danbury, CT. He is in love with his wife, Haley, and together they are raising two beautiful little girls. Formerly, Christopher has been a Master Electrician and Stage Manager for local plays at the Brookfield Community Theater and the Long Wharf Theater in New Haven. He has previously been published in Taste of Cinema and frequently pens reviews on Letterboxd (@Ziglet_mir).