What are you looking so miserable about?

Rating: 9/10 (12 August 2015)

I wish more films would open like There Will Be Blood. Bleak, uncompromising and largely silent apart from the siren assault from Greenwood at the opening fade-in, the rise of Daniel Plainview is slowly and methodically unveiled. He starts as a primitive and solitary figure, propping himself up after an injury, then with a few workers (his family, as he calls them, and indeed one of the orphans becomes a part of his family), and only 15 minutes in do we finally get dialogue. It's a purposeful and seductive opening monologue from Daniel Day Lewis, the kind of rich and sonorous speech that is full of experience and trust and honour, but it doesn't fool the rowdy crowd. Realising they cannot be taken advantage of, he leaves and cannot be convinced to return. Plainview gives a similar, more evocative speech later on as he pitches to the residents of Little Boston, this time overlaid with visuals of a thriving communal effort from his workers and their families. And this one is vastly more successful. It's the strength of the performance that elevates the film into a captivating tale of greed and power. Paul Dano's Eli performs absurd exorcisms of spirits and ghosts, but through his own grand act and conviction, the congregation is enthralled, and so are we. And when Plainview says he is an oilman, we tend to agree.
Apart from his steady deliberate speech (which fires up in fits of rage when appropriate) Plainview also possesses a distinctive walk, a hobbled gait that is perhaps the result of that horrible fall in his first mining venture. Or then again, perhaps it's a remarkably diligent performance. TWBB is built upon these kinds of precise acts of showmanship, and within them we revel at the battle between Plainview and Eli for the people. When Daniel buys a new dress for Mary and holds her little hands as she blesses the new oil well, it's quite lovely, but we only have eyes for Eli in the centre of the frame, stoic and unmoving, despite the lingering tension and anger between the lines. Eli gets one back when suggesting the death of one of the workers could have been prevented if he had been allowed to do the blessing, and of course this is escalated when H.W. is injured by the cursed well. Both are forced to break their character for financial gain, Plainview to buy that last piece of land for his pipeline ("I've abandoned my boy!" - but he admits it was worth it), and Eli desperate for money at his last days.
It's remarkable how PTA can use one little accident to show us so many things. In his reaction Daniel shows a rare glimpse of humanity and desperation, even as we are forced to acknowledge HW's role in pitching his family company's vision. The pivotal scene is filmed appropriately in the chaos; the hand-held camera tremors and the sound design of the erupting gas and oil is guttural and thunderous, dulled only when we focus on the now deaf H.W. Here's where Greenwood's score excels; its percussion beats and frenzied strings arpeggios (some credit must go to Fratres by Arvo Pärt) provides such a heavy and ominous atmosphere, and yet that is equally juxtaposed by the gorgeous silhouette of Daniel and Fletcher celebrating in the shadow of the burning derrick. Fletcher asks of H.W.'s welfare, but as the camera slowly zooms in to a close up of Daniel, we know exactly what is capturing his gaze. It's truly a stunning achievement for DP Robert Elswit, who ranges from the harshly lit and bleak beginnings of Daniel Plainview's oil streaked face, to the rise of his vast sweeping oil empire, and to a dim and claustrophobic mansion that an elderly Plainview rots in. That ending is certainly a change from the vivid visuals that demonstrate the stink of the oil, the dry barren landscape and the years of hard work and toil that resulted in his wealth.
The final psychotic scene in the bowling alley is tight and potent. Here we see two broken men, masked by wealth and religious virtue respectively, each empty. Daniel seizes the opportunity for revenge and humiliation by spurring on Eli to rebuke his lifelong performance, and Dano's increasing disturbance and discomfort as he raises his voice is so perfect. And so is the insane jeering and ramblings of a drunkard who, despite having everything, has nothing of substance. He renounces his remaining family ("bastard in a basket") after seeing a threat to his empire, and beats and bullies the pastor who he blames for his false promises of faith and healing and also the loss of his adopted son, the last living remnant of his humanity from years past. And with a sort of ambivalence in his final casual remark, the life of Daniel Plainview ends there, and Brahms' lively Violin Concerto bursts in.
What There Will Be Blood does is allow us time to ponder and reflect. I have no need for the tiny sub-plot of the twin Sunday brothers, or the tired confession of Daniel to Henry of his misanthropy, drive and obsession. There's plenty of subtext in PTA's film-making to allow for us to dissect that from Day-Lewis. But even so, the film is an intensely visceral affair.