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Punch Drunk Love As diametrically opposed to our notion of conventional Hollywood movies as it's possible to get, with their nothing-left-to-chance scripts and brain-dead action, Punch Drunk Love is the reason you’ve been subconsciously trudging back and forth from the cinema and the video store all this time. It’s the very fact that you can’t quite put your finger on what’s great about it for once, that is exactly what makes Punch Drunk Love so, well, great.
Adam Sandler plays the socially challenged Barry Egan, who is introspective and eccentric to the point of incapacitation, teetering on the edge of autism, with a hint of Tourettes syndrome thrown in for good measure. He’s a salesman of sorts (though we only ever actually see him selling bathroom plungers), working out of a warehouse unit. The film begins with him alone at the corner desk of the warehouse before work, trying to establish whether the deal on air miles being offered by a food manufacturer on their products is too good to be true. This telephone conversation hints at his anal outlook, and sets up a central plot device. He hoards these frequent flyer coupons and the products they are attached to, yet expresses little interest in travelling anywhere, which attracts comment from fellow employees and relatives. Although visited at work by only one sister, he actually has seven in total, and the implication is that his troubled outlook will remain as long as their incessant bullying continues. Unless, that is, he can find a way to break the cycle…
We can see that he’s trying to make a fresh start. His distinctive royal blue suit, which he wears throughout the course of the film, is actually new on the morning of that first telephone call. Just like his sisters and work colleagues, he’s not exactly sure why he’s wearing it, but it’s a start all the same. He knows he can’t carry on like this, with the unprovoked crying and the sudden outbursts of vandalism. Furthermore, as a filmic device, joining him at this juncture greatly helps to set up both his past and potential future in the eyes of the audience. We can see he wants to change.
For all these positive steps he’s taking, or thinking of taking, they stem from an increasing awareness of his loneliness. This manifests itself when Barry calls a telephone sex line, and is perpetuated by the total lack of sexuality in the ensuing "conversation". Interestingly, Anderson keeps us watching while a bashful Barry reads his entire credit card details over the telephone. As a consequence of such intrusions, we become acutely involved with the minutia of this understated anti-hero, whom it has to be said, is played brilliantly by Sandler.
Also refreshing throughout is the use of sound. We don’t get the usual emotional cues from an orchestra; instead we hear the actual sounds of Egan’s personality. Syncopated, creaking percussion limps, hurtles, pops and then skips along in the background, as if this were the disorienting aural equivalent of finding a portal into John Malkovichs’ head.
Waltz music threads it’s gentle way through the plot too, augmenting the visual presence of the harmonium, which is abandoned outside Barry’s place of work early on in the film. Barry appropriates this instrument to his office when he thinks no one is looking, and it becomes as much a symbol for his desire for change as the royal blue suit and the frequent flyer miles. The 3/4 timing of the Waltz helps us to engage with the spectacle, as if the film itself were shifting it’s weight back and forth scene by scene, centred around one character on the main beats, then touching briefly on others, before returning to the source once more.
While Sandler is the main clumsy focal point, he is well assisted by the subtle skills of two other actors in particular. Luis Guzman conveys real warmth and loyalty towards Barry, who in a genuine (if slightly bemused) gesture starts wearing a suit to the warehouse too. Emily Watson plays the actualisation of Barry’s Punch Drunk Love, carrying just the right poise between kook and sass. The bright red we see her in early on seems to represent the contrast between her and Sandler’s character, just as the blue clothes she wears later seem to represent their increasing affinity, like they are literally starting to blend in. We also get Philip Seymour Hoffman who, well he’s just as splendid as usual, but I don’t want to give any more away. If there is a disappointment with the cast, it’s the absence of Anderson staple William H. Macy, who was wonderful in both Boogie Nights and Magnolia, Anderson’s other two features. Can you tell I’m struggling to be negative here?
Furthermore, you can’t help but notice the distinctive style which graces this creation, and Robert Elswit (director of photography) should be commended for his captivating work. Huge portions of the film are shot with the main characters in near silhouette, and while shafts of colour and light always punctuate, we sense that Egan is trying to escape the shadows he feels so comfortable cowering in. You may also notice occasional bursts of horizontal royal blue light spilling out over the picture, the same colour as Barry’s distinctive new suit. It’s like the aura of this eccentric being has been etched onto the camera lens, as if we are seeing him through the affectionate eyes of Emily Watson’s character. All this and I’ve only just got time to mention the stunning transitions and credits, which are the abstracted kaleidoscopes and lava lamps of digital artist Jeremy Blake.
Look, don’t get me wrong – Punch Drunk Love isn’t perfect. Not by any means. The unusual pace isn’t easy to relax into and it doesn’t have a fantastic ending. It’s just that with a mere 91 minutes it knows what it is capable of achieving. The imperfections are part of the charm. This film is intrinsically human, and knowingly off-kilter. It doesn’t have the epic scope of say, Magnolia, or the sprawling cast of characters, but it doesn’t need to. Instead, Anderson has opted to focus on one fascinating individual, showing us one view of the world and one set of aspirations.
Of course, Sandler has played the loveable put-upon everyman before, but somehow Anderson has managed to turn this famous caricature into a distinguished portrait. And in a year where we’ve seen a record number of sequels leaving Hollywood, it becomes even harder not to fall for the enigmatic brazen subtlety that is Punch Drunk Love.
Pass me the frozen peas; I think my heart is swelling up...
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