Welcome back to The Deep Dive. Today we're taking
that big stack of research, all the critical
takes, the behind -the -scenes stories, and boiling
it all down for you. Yeah, we're zeroing in on
a real force in cinema today. We are. We're immersing
ourselves in the world of Paul Thomas Anderson.
PTA. PTA, right. And he's fascinating because
he kind of exists in this weird space, doesn't
he? Like a paradox. How so? Well, he was immediately
tagged as this wunderkind, you know, after Boogie
Nights, Magnolia, huge splash. Right, huge. But
then he didn't flame out. He kept going, building
on it. And now, well, now he's just seen as one
of the modern masters of American film. He sort
of bridges that gap between, say, the new Hollywood
guys and what's happening now. Okay, yeah, I
see that. And that's really our mission today,
isn't it? We want to unpack why. Why over like
three decades now people consistently call him
one of the preeminent writer -directors of his
generation. We're looking at his path, which
was, well, pretty unconventional. His themes,
too, these deep dives into dysfunctional America.
And his collaborators, this incredibly loyal
group he works with again and again. Almost like
a family, yeah. Right. We want to get under the
hood, understand how he built this whole body
of work films that are so human, but also, you
know, structurally really complex. And just to
set the stage, I mean, the level of prestige
here is, it's kind of nuts. I found this stat
that just blew me away. Oh, yeah. Paul Thomas
Anderson, he is the only person ever to win Best
Director at Cannes and the Silver Lion at Venice.
And both the Silver and Golden Bear at Berlin.
Wait, really? Yeah. All three major European
festivals. Best director. All three. The top
directing prize at each one. Nobody else has
done that. That's actually insane. It's like
the grand slam of film directing. It really is
global recognition on a level that's just unparalleled.
And that's not even mentioning the Oscars back
home. He's racked up, what, 11 nominations across
his films? 11. OK, so this tells you these aren't
just like obscure arthouse flicks. No. They're
major works. They hit with critics, they hit
on the international festival circuit, and they
get recognized by the mainstream awards. Doing
all three consistently, that's incredibly tough.
It really is. Okay, so let's start unpacking
this. Where do we begin? His education seems
like the obvious or maybe the unobvious place
to start. Absolutely, because how he learned
or didn't learn formally is key. And you see
two things right away. Southern California and
a total rejection of film school. The valley
looms large. Oh, completely. He's totally linked
to the San Fernando Valley. Born and raised in
Studio City. It's not just scenery in his movies.
Sometimes it feels like a main character itself.
Yeah, definitely. But that family connection
to entertainment is interesting, too, because
it sets up this high -low thing you see in his
work. His dad, Ernie Anderson. Ernie Anderson,
yeah, a legend. People might know he was the
voice of ABC for years, that big, booming announcer
voice. Right. Authoritative. But he also had
this... Completely other side, this wild alter
ego back in Cleveland, a late night horror host
named Gulardi. Gulardi. That's perfect, isn't
it? It's like a metaphor for PTA's whole thing.
A really polished, sophisticated technique right
next to the messy, sometimes kind of vulgar,
really raw, emotional stuff. Totally. And you
know that stuck with PTA because he named his
production company Gulardi Film Company. Huh.
No way. I didn't know that. Yeah. So he clearly
soaked up storytelling from his dad, but then
he forged his own path for learning the craft
itself, a fiercely independent one. Meaning he
basically skipped film school. Pretty much. He
did a bit of time at Santa Monica College, two
semesters as an English major at Emerson. And
apparently David Foster Wallace was one of his
teachers there, which is wild. Okay. PTA taught
by DFW. That's a whole other deep dive, maybe.
Right. But yeah, Emerson and then NYU's film
program. He lasted exactly two days. Two days.
Why? He was really blunt about it. He said it
turned watching and making movies into homework.
Like a chore. And for someone obviously driven
like him, that academic box was just suffocating.
Okay, so if not school, then how? How did he
get so good so fast? He learned by watching.
And not just watching, but like dissecting. His
method was basically reverse engineering the
filmmakers he loved. Who were his guys? He lists
about 17 major influences. You know, Scorsese,
Kubrick, Altman, Orson Welles, the canon. Okay.
But here's the crucial bit. He wasn't just watching
the movies over and over. He was watching them
with the audio commentaries on. Oh, interesting.
Getting the director's thought process. Exactly.
He wanted to understand the choices, the compromises
on set, the thinking behind specific shots. It
was practical learning by analysis. And by doing
it right. He started super young. Oh, yeah. Made
his first film at eight. His dad got a Betamax
camera back in 82, and apparently that was it.
He was off. And by high school. By senior year,
1988, he made what he called his first real production,
a 30 -minute mockumentary, The Dirk Diggler Story.
Dirk Diggler. Okay, the name rings a bell. It
should. But here's the great detail. He paid
for it with money. He earned cleaning cages at
a pet store. Cleaning pet cages to fund your
mockumentary about a porn star. That's PTA in
a nutshell right there. Isn't it, though? Drive
and dedication from the start. And the key thing
is, this wasn't just some random student film.
It was... The Blueprint. For Boogie Nights. Exactly.
That short was inspired by the life of John Holmes,
the real -life porn star. The character, the
story, the world. He had it all figured out in
that 30 -minute short years before he got the
chance to make the feature. He knew his stuff
inside out. That focus is amazing. Which takes
us right into his big arrival in the 90s. Section
2. The Ascendancy. He basically decides, forget
college tuition, I'm putting my money into making
a film. Right. He had to be scrappy. For his
next short, Cigarettes and Coffee in 93. 20 minutes
long. Budget was $10 ,000. Where did he get 10
grand? Cobbled it together, gambling winnings
apparently. His girlfriend's credit card. And
tellingly, the money his dad had saved for his
college, he literally bet his education fund
on this short film. He made the choice. This
is my education. Pretty much. And that 10 grand,
it paid off immediately in showing what he could
do. Cigarettes and Coffee announced his knack
for complex structure, what you called narrative
geometry. How did it work? It connects these
different storylines, these intense little emotional
scenes, all through one single prop, a $20 bill
that passes between them. Ah, okay. Showing connections.
Yeah. The structure itself tells a story. It
showed how separate lives can be linked, often
by chance or money. That $20 bill kind of weaves
through these raw conversations. It showed right
away he could handle nonlinear stuff and give
it real thematic weight, even in just 20 minutes.
And people noticed. The right people. Definitely.
It screened at the Sundance Strolls program in
93, and that got him into the Sundance feature
film program the next year. A big deal. And he
got mentored there. Yeah, by Michael Caton -Jones,
the director. Caton -Jones saw this raw talent,
this voice, but knew PTA needed the practical
side. How to deal with studios, how to run a
bigger set. He gave him, as PTA put it, hard
and practical lessons. Which he absolutely needed
for his first feature film. That was a real fight,
wasn't it? Heartache, originally called Sydney.
Oh, yeah. His first big clash with the system.
Reicher Entertainment financed it. But then they
took his finished film and just recut it. Tried
to make it more, you know, commercial. Changed
his whole vision. That can kill a career right
there. First film gets taken away from you. But
he fought back. He did. And this says a lot about
him and the loyalty he inspires. He got his actors,
Philip A. Berhal, John C. Reilly, Gwyneth Paltrow
together. Big names even then, mostly. Right.
And they, together, had to raise $200 ,000. personally,
just to buy back the rights to finish and release
his cut of the film. Wow. The actress chipped
in. Yep. They believed in his vision that much,
put their own money and reputations out there,
and they succeeded. They got his cut out. And
it got acclaimed, right? Ebert loved it. Ebert
called it a quietly compelling and distinctive
debut. It basically launched him because he fought
for his version. It proved his vision was worth
protecting. But the real explosion, the thing
that made him PTA, was next. Boogie Nights, 1997.
Yeah, that just blew the doors off. Based on
that old high school short. Explored the golden
age of porn. It was huge, critically and commercially.
Showed he could handle this massive, messy subject
with real art and control. And the cast. It was
huge for them, too. Totally. It basically resurrected
Burt Reynolds' career, got him an Oscar nomination.
Yeah, I remember that. And it was the breakout
dramatic role for Mark Wahlberg, for Julianne
Moore. Both got nominated, too. And PTA himself
got his first Oscar nomination. odd for the screenplay
just incredible for a guy who was what 27 27
years old yeah and then you know comes the pressure
after boogie nights hit so big new line cinema
basically said okay kid what do you want to do
next here's the money do whatever you want total
creative freedom which sounds great but can also
be dangerous exactly he said he wanted to do
something small scale next but then It just grew.
It kept blossoming, as he put it. Right. Into
Magnolia, 1999. This three -hour, sprawling,
multi -character epic set back in the valley.
Just a monster of a film. So ambitious. Totally
ambitious. All these interconnected stories,
this intense emotional meltdown over one day.
And the inspiration, interestingly, came from
music. Amy Mann. Amy Mann songs, yeah. He said
her music gave him the blueprint for that feeling
in the film, that aching sadness and almost cosmic
dread. And after that film, after pouring everything
into it, he said something really telling. Yeah,
that famous quote. He basically claimed with
real intensity that Magnolia is, for better or
worse, the best movie I'll ever make. Wow. after
just three films to feel like you've already
peaked you can feel the weight in that can't
you like he threw every idea every structural
trick every raw emotion he had into that one
film the question then becomes okay what do you
do next how do you follow up what you think is
your masterpiece right well it seems like he
needed a palate cleanser a hard reset which brings
us to section three pivots in style and the era
of prestige After the everything plus the kitchen
sink approach of Magnolia, he did something totally
different. Yeah, he imposed a big constraint
on himself. Punch Drunk Love, 2002. It was a
romance. And it was tight, just 90 minutes long.
A huge contrast. And starring Adam Sandler. Yeah.
Which was... a shock at the time a huge shock
his first really acclaimed dramatic role he plays
barry egan this guy just crippled by anxiety
and rage whose life gets completely turned upside
down by falling in love and also this weird pudding
promotion scam the visual style was a big shift
too wasn't it very stylized totally Very heightened.
Those intense blues and reds, the abstract lens
flares, the artwork by Jeremy Blake. Critics
really noticed that shift. Time Out called it
perhaps his most original work, exactly because
it moved away from that sprawling realism towards
something more surreal, more internal, more psychological
expressed visually. It showed he had range, serious
range. He could take Sandler's chaotic energy,
channel it into something fragile and dramatic,
and wrap it all in this concise, visually poetic
package. And the acclaim was immediate and high
level. He won Best Director at Cannes for it.
That really cemented him as a major international
auteur, not just the Boogie Nights guy. Winning
Cannes for Punch Drunk Love. That's quite a statement.
It really is. And that kind of tight, intense
focus maybe set the stage for what came next
five years later. What many consider his absolute
peak. There will be blood. 2007. Right. The masterpiece.
I mean, it felt like a seismic event when it
came out. A huge leap into the American epic.
It's loosely based on Upton Sinclair's novel
Oil. But PTA really just used that as a starting
point. To explore what? Greed. Capitalism. All
of that. It's the savage meditation on American
ambition, manifest destiny, the birth of the
oil industry, all filtered through this one towering,
monstrous character, Daniel Plainview. And the
critical reaction was just overwhelming. Off
the charts. Instantly hailed as a classic. David
Denby in The New Yorker made that incredible
comparison, putting Anderson's work alongside
the greatest achievements of Griffith and Ford.
Griffith and Ford. I mean, that's placing him
right at the foundation of American cinema. It's
the highest praise imaginable. And the film resonated.
It made money, too, over 76 million worldwide
on a 25 million budget. So high art that also
connected commercially. And its reputation has
only grown. That New York Times poll naming it
the best film of the 21st century so far back
in 2017. Right. It just confirmed its status
as a landmark. And the Oscars that year, it tied
with No Country for Old Men for the most nominations,
eight. And Daniel Day -Lewis. One best actor,
of course. One of the truly iconic screen performances.
There Will Be Blood basically announced PTA as
this heavyweight, capable of tackling history,
myth, character on the grandest possible scale.
So how does he do it? How do you get punch -drunk
love and There Will Be Blood from the same filmmaker?
That brings us to Section 4. Themes, visual style,
and the auteur's signatures. What makes a PTA
film feel like a PTA film? Okay, yeah. Let's
start with the look, the visual trademarks. People
talk about his bold visual style. What does that
mean? Well, constantly moving cameras, for one.
Lots of Steadicam long takes. Exactly. Those
Steadicam long takes are the signature. And layered
audiovisual sound and image working together
complexly. He wants the camera to feel like it's
in the scene, emotionally involved. Those long
takes, they're more than just showing off, right?
There's a purpose. Oh, absolutely. It's about
immersion and sometimes pressure. Think about
the opening of Boogie Nights. Yeah, the club
scene. That insane three -minute steadicam shot
that just throws you right into the middle of
that. chaotic slightly dangerous energy before
you even know who's who right you're just dropped
in yeah there's no distance you're in the thick
of it no time to judge no time to breathe it
creates this immediate intensity and music is
obviously huge for him too though the collaborators
have changed big time early on it was john brian
his scores for heartache magnolia punch drunk
love they have that jazzy feel kind of melancholic
but warm very distinctive But then came There
Will Be Blood, and he started working with Johnny
Greenwood from Radiohead. And Greenwood's done
everything since. Every film since. And that
shift in composers perfectly mirrors a shift
in the films themselves, I think. From Brienne's
emotional warmth to Greenwood's often jarring,
dissonant, experimental, orchestral stuff. Yeah,
the There Will Be Blood score is unsettling.
Totally. It matches that move from films about
finding surrogate families to these darker studies
of isolation, greed, politics. The sound changed
with the themes. Okay, let's talk themes. What
are the big recurring ideas? Well, they're usually
psychological dramas, right? About flawed people.
Desperate people, often kind of rootless. And
even when the films are set elsewhere, like Phantom
Thread, that emotional grounding often feels
like... The San Fernando Valley. The valley,
yeah. It's his heartland. And within that, you
see the same concerns pop up again and again.
Dysfunctional families are huge. Alienation.
Loneliness. Let's search for surrogate families.
That's maybe the biggest one. People trying to
build connections because their original families
failed them. And themes of regret, guilt, forgiveness.
redemption, maybe, these big moral questions
underneath the messy lives. And there's that
specific phrase he uses. Right, that repetition
device, the line, I didn't do anything. Which
films? It pops up in Boogie Nights, Magnolia,
Punch Drunk Love, and The Master, at least once
in each. I didn't do anything. What's the significance
there? It's about denial, isn't it? Responsibility.
It's characters refusing to own up to the chaos
they're part of or that they've caused. It's
a really subtle but smart way to link these different
stories about accountability or the lack of it
and then there's this deeper layer almost intellectual
the bible specifically exodus yeah this is fascinating
it shows that english major background maybe
he uses the book of exodus as this kind of thematic
anchor sometimes subtly sometimes Not so silly.
Like in Magnolia. Magnolia is the obvious one.
There are references to Exodus 8 .2, the plague
of frogs. And then famously at the climax. It
rains frogs. Literally. Frogs falling from the
sky over the valley. It's this moment of bizarre,
almost biblical judgment or intervention hitting
this landscape of emotional decay. And there
will be blood connects too. The title itself,
right. It echoes Exodus 7 .19, the plague of
blood turning the waters red. Okay, so it's not
just about oil and violence. It hints at something
bigger, moral consequence, divine wrath almost.
The plagues in his films feel like metaphors
for the characters bringing destruction upon
themselves through their greed, their denial.
It gives their modern sins this ancient, epic
weight. So, looking at the arc, there's a clear
evolution. The early films... Boogie Nights,
Magnolia. There are these big ensemble pieces
about finding family. Right. Sprawling casts,
interconnected stories, searching for connection.
But starting with There Will Be Blood, the focus
shifted. It got narrower. More intense. Definitely.
He moved towards these really focused character
studies, often just one or two central figures,
and they engaged more directly with bigger ideas,
capitalism, ambition, belief systems, American
identity. It's like he mastered the ensemble,
then turned his lens inward to dissect the individual
ego, often the dangerous male ego. Okay, let's
follow that thread into Section 5, his work since
the 2010s. Starting with The Master in 2012,
people called that his religion film. Yeah, although
that's maybe a bit reductive. It's intense, difficult.
Stars Joaquin Phoenix as Freddie Quell, this
traumatized alcoholic WWII vet. Right. And he
falls under the spell of Lancaster Dodd, played
by Philip Seymour Hoffman, who's the charismatic
leader of this new movement called The Cause
in the 50s. And everyone immediately thought
Scientology. Right. The parallels to L. Ron Hubbard
and early Scientology were impossible to ignore,
though the film never names it. Was that risky?
Getting so close to such a controversial topic,
did it become just a Scientology movie? I think
he avoided that trap, actually, because the film
isn't really about Scientology. It's about the
dynamic between Dodd and Quell, the master and
the disciple. Okay. It's more about that post
-war American search for meaning, the psychological
void these guys had, and how charismatic figures
can step in to fill it. It's about belief. control,
codependency. It really became this incredible
acting showcase for Phoenix, Hoffman, and Amy
Adams all got Oscar nominations. And then he
did something maybe even more daunting, adapting
Thomas Pynchon. Oh, yeah. Tackling Pynchon is
like the Mount Everest of literary adaptation,
inherent vice in 2014. And the big deal here
was this was the first time ever Pynchon allowed
one of his books to be filmed. That's huge. From
an author famous for being impossible to adapt
and intensely private. Exactly. Pinch On's stuff
is just legendarily dense. All these tangled
plots, endless references, weird digressions,
characters popping in and out. It's not naturally
cinematic. So why Pinch On? And how did PTA actually
make it work on screen? What was the trick? Well,
Pynchon's whole vibe, that mix of goofy, shaggy
dog detective story with deep paranoia set against
the specific historical moment feels very PTA,
actually, especially 70s California Pynchon.
The trick, I think, was that PTA didn't try to
streamline it too much. He embraced the messiness,
the stone confusion. He used a narrator, Joanna
Newsom, to deliver chunks of Pynchon's prose,
which helped ground the viewer. And visually,
he just leaned into the hazy, sun -drenched,
slightly... decaying vibe of 70s LA. Let him
go back to a big ensemble, back to the valley,
but through this completely different psychedelic
filter. Okay. Then his next two films were quite
different again. Phantom Thread in 2017. Yeah.
Daniel Day -Lewis' last role. So far, yeah. And
Phantom Thread was another stylistic turn. A
meticulous period piece. 1950s London high fashion.
Very controlled, almost suffocating atmosphere,
focused on this intense, toxic romance. There
was something unusual about the cinematography
on that one. Yeah, very unusual. No director
of photography was officially credited, which
is rare. So who shot it? The strong rumor, almost
confirmed, is that PTA essentially shot large
parts of it himself, working with a very small
camera team. Taking on the DP role himself, that
ties back to what you said about control, about
authorship. Absolutely. If his usual DP wasn't
available or wasn't the right fit, and the vision
was that specific, maybe he felt he just had
to do it himself. It shows a director completely
immersed in every aspect of the image making.
Total control. Right. And then came Licorice
Pizza in 2021. Back to the 70s, back to the Valley.
His home turf. Yeah, that felt like a real return.
More nostalgic, maybe. Yeah. Chaotic, but tender.
Definitely looser, funnier in some ways. A coming
-of -age story. Got great reviews, more Oscar
nominations, Best Picture, Director, Screenplay.
Showed he could still nail that specific time
and place, but with a lighter touch this time.
Master of tone. And now, the next one sounds
huge. His tenth film, One Battle After Another
is the working title. Out in 2025. And it's Pinchon
again. Pinchon again, yeah. A loose take on Vineland.
And everything points to this being massive.
How so? Well, PTA himself said he kind of stole
the parts of the novel that hit him and mashed
them up with other ideas, apparently with Pinchon's
blessing. It's set later, dealing with the fallout
of the 60s counterculture in the Reagan 80s.
And the scale. Budget. Cast. The budget is reportedly
$100 million, which is huge for this kind of
film today. And the cast is stacked. Leonardo
DiCaprio, Regina Hall, Sean Penn, Alana Haim
from Licorice Pizza, Teyana Taylor. Oh, we owe
Sean Penn. Yeah. It confirms his status. He's
one of the very few directors who gets that level
of budget and creative freedom to make something
complex and personal. The industry trusts him.
And speaking of trust, that anecdote about Napoleon,
Ridley Scott's film. Oh, right. That's amazing.
Apparently in 2022, Joaquin Phoenix, who was
starring as Napoleon. And who PTA worked with
on The Master. Exactly. Phoenix was apparently
unhappy with the script, felt the character wasn't
working, and was threatening to walk away from
this huge Ridley Scott epic. So they called PTA.
To fix Napoleon. They brought PTA in, yeah, as
a script doctor, specifically to work on the
Napoleon character arc to make it richer, more
human, presumably, to keep Phoenix happy. That
is incredible. PTA, the auteur of valley angst
and period nuance, gets called in to save a massive
historical war movie. It says everything about
how respected his writing and character work
is, right? That he's the guy you call in that
kind of crisis, even way outside his usual genre.
Okay, that leads perfectly into section six.
The collaborators. Yeah. The rep company, as
he calls them. This loyalty is a huge part of
his story. It really is. It speaks to a working
method built on trust and shared history. And
the anchor of that for so long was Philip Seymour
Hoffman. Yeah. His death was such a loss. How
many films did they do together? Five. Right
from Heartache all the way through The Master.
Hoffman was just... brilliant at playing those
guys in PTA's world. The flawed conscience, the
desperate outsider, the guy barely holding it
together. A huge, huge presence in his work.
And others keep coming back too. Oh yeah. John
C. Reilly, four films. Think Heartache, Boogie
Nights, Magnolia, William H. Macy, Julianne Moore,
Melora Walters. You see the same faces popping
up. It really does feel like a theater troupe
that moves from play to play with their director.
That kind of loyalty is rare. It is. And look
who else he attracts. Daniel Day -Lewis, famously
picky, only worked with three directors more
than once in his entire career. Who were the
other two? Jim Sheridan and Martin Scorsese.
Wow. So Day -Lewis put PTA right up there with
Scorsese. That's the company he keeps. It tells
you the level of artistry Day -Lewis saw there.
And this stability extends behind the camera
too, right? Absolutely. His core producing team
has been incredibly stable. Joanne Seller, eight
films. Daniel Lupe, nine films. They've been
with him almost the entire way. And the costume
designer, Mark Bridges, he holds the record.
Nine films. Basically, PTA's entire feature filmography,
he's the guy creating the look, the period feel,
the character through clothes, time after time.
That's an incredible partnership. With cinematography.
That's been a bit more complex, especially later
on. Robert Elswit was the guy for a long time.
Elswit was key. Shot six films. Won the Oscar
for There Will Be Blood. Defined the look of
that middle period. But not The Master. No, The
Master was shot by Mihaly Malamar Jr. Gave it
that distinct, almost archival 1950s texture.
Shot on 65mm. And phantom thread. The mystery
DP. Right. No credit. Likely PTA himself stepping
in. And then Alice would actually said in an
interview around 2019 that he and PTA probably
wouldn't work together again. Oh, OK. So that
sounds like a real break in a major creative
relationship. What do you think that signifies?
Well, it could suggest that PTA's demand for
control for a very specific, sometimes unconventional
look maybe became absolute. Elsewood is brilliant,
a master craftsman, but maybe more traditional
in some ways. PTA's later films, like The Master
or Phantom Thread, they needed something unique,
old lenses, specific film stocks, unusual lighting.
Maybe the only way PTA felt he could get exactly
what was in his head was to literally operate
the camera or find someone totally new for the
master. It points to that total auteur vision,
even if it means parting ways with a long -term
Oscar -winning collaborator. Fascinating. And
beyond the features, he does other stuff too,
music videos. Loads of them, especially for musicians
he's close to. He did a bunch for Fiona Apple
back when they were together. Right. And more
recently, multiple videos for Haim, for Radiohead,
for Tom York. His videos aren't just promo clips.
They're often really visually experimental, like
that short film Anima he did with Tom York. That
got Grammy nominated. Yeah, for Best Music Film.
It's this amazing, choreographed, dreamlike piece.
He uses music videos almost like a sketchbook,
trying out ideas. And he directed a documentary,
too, June Noon. Yeah, June Noon in 2015. Which
brings us back to Johnny Greenwood. The film
follows Greenwood collaborating with this amazing
group of Israeli and Indian musicians. They recorded
an album in this incredible 15th century fort
in Rajasthan, India. Wow. It's a beautiful film,
really captures the energy of musical creation.
And again, it shows how central sound and music
are to his whole process, not just an add -on.
And one last bit of trivia, him being a standby
director for Robert Altman. Yeah. On Altman's
last film, A Prairie Home Companion, in 2005.
Stand by, director. What does that even mean?
Altman was 80 years old and not in the best health.
So for insurance purposes, they needed someone
lined up, someone respected who could literally
step in and take over directing if Altman couldn't
finish the film. And they picked PTA. She was
only in his mid -30s then. Exactly. The fact
that the producers, the insurance company, presumably
Altman himself, agreed that PTA was the guy,
the one director with the sensibility and skill
to potentially finish an Altman film in Altman
style, that's just immense respect from his peers,
from a master he clearly admired. Okay, so wrapping
this all up, what's the big takeaway for you,
the listener, after this deep dive into PTA?
Well, I think our journey really confirms him
as this fiercely original, self -taught talent
who just mastered the craft incredibly quickly.
He uses his home turf, the valley, as this canvas
to paint these epic, complex, very American stories
about... Well, about us. Loneliness, ambition,
family, failed and found, regret. He manages
that rare thing. Yeah. Huge critical acclaim
worldwide, box office success on his own terms,
and this intense artistic integrity. From intimate
dramas to sprawling epics. Yeah. Critics call
him the foremost filmmaking talent of his generation.
Sam Mendes called him a true auteur. One of the
few I would classify as geniuses. A guy who swept
the director prizes at Cannes, Venice, and Berlin.
He really does occupy this unique space in movies
today. He absolutely does. And maybe, for you
listening, here's a final thought to chew on.
Something building on everything we've talked
about. Okay. Given how deep his connection to
music is John Bran, then the long, crucial partnership
with Johnny Greenwood, the June and Doc, the
music videos, and given that his visual style
became so specific he might have even taken over
cinematography duties himself. Right. Consider
this. How much does the sound actually drive
the image in his films? Is the score, the sound
design? just supporting the visuals, or especially
with Greenwood's often challenging music, does
the sound come first sometimes? Does that dissonance
or rhythm actually dictate the camera movement,
the editing, the specific feel of a scene? So
not just music in the film, but music as the
film's engine, in a way. Maybe. Exploring that
relationship between the sonic world and the
visual style, that might be the key to really
getting the full depth of PTA's artistry. Something
to listen for next time you watch one of his
films.