No Movie Captures the Essence of Neil Young’s Best Songs Like Inherent Vice

As a child of the ’60s myself, I found Paul Thomas Anderson’s masterpiece, “Inherent Vice,” to be a poignant and profound reflection of that tumultuous era. The film’s intricate narrative, reminiscent of Thomas Pynchon’s labyrinthine novels, mirrors the complexity and confusion that characterized those days.

On every Wednesday in August, Vulture is inviting its readers to join our Vulture Movie Club by watching a selected film along with us. This week’s choice was made by Vulture copy editor Christopher Stanton, who will start viewing “Inherent Vice” on Wednesday, August 28th at 7 p.m. ET. To follow the live discussion about the movie, head over to Vulture’s Twitter account.

By the mid-’70s, Neil Young was already composing music that carried the longing of an older generation. In the opening lines of “Ambulance Blues,” a melancholic nine-minute track from his 1974 album “On the Beach“, he sings, “Back in the old folky days, the air was magic when we played.” Despite Young being only 28 at the time of the album’s release and the “old folky days” not having been more than five years prior, there was a change within him – personally, politically. The era he yearned for seemed to be slipping away, possibly never to return. It’s possible that his memories of this past were distorted by the influence of “honey-slides,” a mixture of honey and marijuana used during the album’s recording sessions.

40 years after the publication of “On the Beach”, Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2014 film, “Inherent Vice” – based on the novel by Thomas Pynchon – grapples with similar apprehensions. Set in 1970 in a fictional coastal town near South Bay, California named Gordita Beach, the movie follows Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), a pot-smoking private investigator. Upon being visited by his mysterious ex, Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston), Doc is asked for help. Mickey Wolfmann (Eric Roberts), the wealthy real estate developer Shasta is seeing, is in danger due to a suspicious plot by his wife and her lover. The plot involves committing Wolfmann to an asylum, and Shasta is conflicted about participating. Agreeing to investigate, Doc’s journey leads him to the Golden Fang, a massive drug syndicate that includes dentists, Aryan Brotherhood members, and more. As Doc, high on marijuana, progresses through one perplexing clue to another, his investigation serves as a platform for reflecting on his failed relationship with Shasta and examining the decay beneath the façade of ’60s counterculture. In its portrayal of Doc’s inexorable pull towards the past, “Inherent Vice” presents – among other things – arguably the quintessential cinematic interpretation of Young’s music.

In the film “Inherent Vice,” certain elements are clearly evident: The costume designer, Mark Bridges, appears to have been influenced by Young’s style in portraying the character of Doc, and the soundtrack includes not one but two songs by Neil. On a deeper level, the movie mirrors many themes found in Young’s mid-’70s work, particularly as it is set right after the Manson murders, a time when every hitchhiking hippie seemed suspicious to middle America. In both the film and Pynchon’s novel, the conflict between characters is established early. When Doc first learns about Shasta’s new lover, he asks scornfully, “Gentleman of the straight-world persuasion?”, and his complex relationship with Bigfoot Bjornsen (played by Josh Brolin at his peak as a frozen banana eater) further emphasizes this divide. Bigfoot often complains about “hippie scum,” while Doc retorts about how cops target innocent hippies.

Although reminiscing about the ’60s counterculture era, both Young’s music and the movie “Inherent Vice” suggest that it was never as idyllic as it seemed. Suspicious of the corporate takeover that swiftly commercialized the ’60s spirit, Young declined to perform at Woodstock and criticized his bandmates, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, for becoming too comfortable with their success and playing along with the image of hippie musicians that the industry was eager to exploit. As for Doc, he uncovers a troubling truth: Through their COINTELPRO program, the FBI had converted numerous hippies into informants and used their connections to radical political groups to gather intelligence. Watching TV with his district attorney girlfriend, Penny Kimball (Reese Witherspoon), Doc becomes overwhelmed with paranoia after seeing his presumed-dead hippie friend Coy Harlingen (Owen Wilson) being arrested on live television during a protest against Nixon’s speech. Following this appearance, as Penny explains, “the police can easily infiltrate him into any group they want.”

By 1970, the atmosphere had become quite gloomy, and Inherent Vice occasionally mirrors the pessimistic tone of a suspenseful thriller from the Nixon era, such as The Parallax View. However, this grimness is offset with a profound sense of romantic longing. At its tender moments, Inherent Vice seems to be inspired by Young’s songs, finding comfort in nostalgic reminiscences of the past. For the film’s two Neil selections, Anderson avoids the somber slowcore tracks from On the Beach and instead chooses “Harvest” and an archival version of “Journey Through the Past” – two acoustic songs that embody the essence of Young’s most popular hits. It’s in these places where Inherent Vice’s connection to Young’s music becomes a bit elusive: More than any other film I’ve seen, it captures the enigmatic, alluring pull of the singer’s acoustic ballads, leaving you yearning to return to it, unable to grasp the mysterious tapestry of emotions it evokes.

In both instances of Neil’s music in the movie, there are poignant scenes where Doc experiences a hazy longing for the past, which subtly skews his recollections of his relationship with Shasta. The “Journey Through the Past” section stands out as it is imbued with a powerful sense of romance that makes one yearn to dwell within it eternally, even though the film underlines its ephemeral nature. (“By this point in their relationship,” Sortilège whispers ethereally over the scene as Doc and Shasta run through the rain, “she had already begun to leave.”) Just like Neil’s lyrics depict a past that’s hard to grasp, Inherent Vice presents a flurry of emotions that vanish the moment you try to hold onto them.

Experiencing Inherent Vice for the first time feels much like delving into a Pynchon novel – it’s a complex, bewildering journey. The film’s plot is intentionally intricate, leading Doc further and further down various rabbit holes. Unlike a traditional guide, the movie doesn’t hold your hand; instead, it encourages you to navigate its unique world on your own terms, whether through its humor reminiscent of The Naked Gun or the poignant tones of Young’s voice. As Kim Morgan eloquently puts it in her exceptional analysis, “It doesn’t demand multiple viewings; it entices you to revisit it, over and over again, drawing you in while maintaining a tantalizing distance. You feel as though you can’t help but return.” Just like Young’s music and Inherent Vice, there are some things we can’t help but lose – irreplaceable treasures that leave us with only vague recollections. Perhaps the key to revisiting the “old folky days” is another listen to “Harvest” or another watch of Inherent Vice.

2024-08-26 17:54

No Movie Captures the Essence of Neil Young’s Best Songs Like Inherent Vice

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