Flows Like Blood, Thick Like Oil
Spoiler alert. Don’t read this if you’d like to see the film first.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen anything like Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood.
It’s the kind of film my dad would have put on and enjoyed one weekend afternoon, while I watched only half-heartedly.
Having seen it on the big screen, I’m enamored with the film’s characters, the numerous blunt but effective symbols, and the lethal simplicity of the story’s tensions and conflicts.
One of its foremost charms is the excellent soundtrack. Scored by Johnny Greenwood, it highlighted all the subtle nuances of the film that the visuals alone could not have, as all great movie soundtracks do. It swings between blaring cacophony and barely audible sighs, gently tugging the viewer along. Every note and chord couldn’t have been choreographed more appropriately.
With oil as one of the most vital interests in this country, it’s hard not to look for the parallels between oil and blood. It’s there and, as always, it’s extremely gratifying to find.
While the blood of the land and the blood of humans are comparable in this film, and even synonymous perhaps, Anderson conjures a pristinely innocent image of both as potent fuels which moves man and machine—for any means, and for any end.
This blind efficiency is likewise reflected in Daniel Day-Lewis’ character. Oilman Plainview possesses an abundant and bottomless greed, a capacity to realize every one of his needs, and the utter willfulness to sate every one of them at whatever cost.
As Plainview’s wells suck the oil from the ground, he steadily drains trust and humanity out of his relationships with others. As a man who detests “explaining himself,” it seems only appropriate that his adopted son should be deaf. They are father and son who speak and hear very sparingly, for different yet oddly similar reasons.
Though gripped by an unshakeable repulsion for humanity, Plainview seems to simultaneously possess a secret knowledge about people. It makes sense that a man whose profession it is to know so much about things under ground should also know something about the things above it, and the frail and hazardous barrier in between.
And, it’s delightful to see that as weary as Plainview may appear, he never loosens grasp of his property or his pride. Limping on in his despair and old age, he still retains a shrill sense of dignity tarnished only by the passage of time. An obstinate and impenetrable man of spectacle, Plainview punctuates the final moments of the film with an impatient “I’m finished!”—a proclamation as spiteful, bold, and filled with glee as one of his monstrous oil wells set aflame.
The relationship with his adopted son is also extremely important; I’d say it’s as central to the structure and narrative of the film as his relationship with Eli. Nice review though!
Long side note:
The more I contemplate the movie’s last scene, *Spoiler Alert Obviously*, the more I think of the scene in 2001 where the pre-human discovers his ability to and affinity for shattering skulls with a blunt instrument.
Some of the parallels are literal; a blunt instrument to the head, Plainview’s posture and stance, and the angles by which the moment is captured. Of course you could argue that there are only so many good ways to film someone hitting someone else on the head, so that last point may be bullshit.
But more compelling is the thematic argument: In 2001 that scene signified the beginning of a process that would lead to humanity and to civilization. In TWBB, the moment of impact signifies the final strands of civilization leaving a man. It seems to finish the cynical joke started by Clarke and Kubrick 40 years ago when they implied that all of our achievements are rooted in competition and bloodshed.
Anyway I might just be reading too far into the material; as far as I know there is zero information from interviews or other sources to support what I’m saying. But regardless of the creator’s intent, it further enriches an already great film for me.