Like the American political war zone we currently live in, there is plenty to divide audiences in “One Battle After Another,” the rollicking and provocative new feature produced, written, and directed by auteur Paul Thomas Anderson and inspired by the Thomas Pynchon novel “Vineland.” Set in present-day California, the cold opening is one of several set-it-off moments in which an armed group — the French 75 — liberates hundreds of migrants from a detention camp overseen by the American military. It’s a stunning visual. Through “the rockets’ red glare, and bombs bursting in air,” both French 75 and Anderson ostentatiously announce their subversive intentions.
If you consider yourself a member of the radical left, you could easily find the depictions of the French 75 insulting and problematic, especially in Anderson’s portrayal of Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), a charismatic but profoundly conflicted and reckless field general in the French 75. On the other hand, if you find comfort in the abduction of immigrants and the easy designation of far-left activism as “terrorism,” you may not be able to stomach your movie popcorn and candy for more than 5 minutes. From start to finish, Anderson provides an uproariously satirical takedown of white supremacy and the fascist cabal it rode in on.
The first act of “One Battle” consists of a series of episodic successes for French 75 as it burns and slashes its way through government and corporate infrastructure. Helping to bring the heat, literally, is “Ghetto” Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio), aka Bob, French 75’s ass-dragging bomb specialist and Perfidia’s lover. The eventual infiltration and demise of French 75 is set in motion by military commander Steven J. Slackjaw (Sean Penn), who is forged in the tradition of cinema’s finest military charactonyms, such as “Dr. Strangelove’s” Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper, “Apocalypse Now’s” Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore, and “Monster vs. Aliens’” General W.R. Monger.
Anderson’s view of the American fascist landscape is comically satisfying and eerily prescient, but what he has to say about the resistance is more layered and engaging. When the second act resumes, set 16 years later, Bob is a hapless burnout and a wobbly single parent to his daughter Willa (Chase Infiniti). French 75 has been driven underground and what’s left of it is a rag-tag network of still-true believers — conspiracy theorists whose conspiracies are all too real. “The Battle of Algiers” and Gil Scott Heron are their antiquated cultural touchstones and the recitation of Heron’s 1971 mockingly classic call-to-action, “The Revolution Will Not be Televised,” is their secret handshake. Their guerilla defenses are as dated and threadbare as they are rebel chic.
In what becomes a running gag throughout the film, French 75’s efforts to evade high-tech, highly militarized surveillance reach absurd proportions as Bob hilariously tries to find his way out of the fog of a lifetime of substance abuse long enough to deliver the right password to an over-zealous comrade.
The Christmas Adventurers Club, a ridiculously goofy secret society of the whitest-of-white supremacists, might be considered the other side of the extremist coin, but Anderson doesn’t lazily create false equivalents between the Christmas Adventurers and the French 75. There is nothing symmetrical about their morality. For all their hippy-dippy amateurism and self-sabotage, the French 75’s code of ethics and moral grounding provide their only tactical advantage.
French 75 is a group of mostly non-Latino activists who still have the meager first-world means to deliver migrants from the clutches of modern-day slave catchers, but it’s the dispossessed Latino migrants of the Baktan Cross community, and their underground railroad conductor, Sensei Sergio St. Carlos (Benicio del Toro), who deliver themselves — and eventually Bob — from daily siege and predation with cool ingenuity. In perhaps the film’s most visually lyrical scene, the silhouettes of three Baktan Cross skateboarders glide across rooftops as they try to lead Bob and his lumbering white butt to safety. Against the power of a bloated empire, necessity is the mother of invention and efficient resilience.
Anderson’s riskiest take in “One Battle” is his hyper-sexualization of Black women members of French 75 — Perfidia and Jungle Pussy. Teyana Taylor’s physicality seizes complete control of the screen and her character Perfidia deploys Black woman magic like a heat-seeking missile. As lore has it, danger is an aphrodisiac and sex is a method of escaping anxiety in intimate insurgent spaces. 1960s and ’70s formations like the Black Liberation Army, Black Panthers, and Weather Underground are steeped in sexual mythology. Huey Newton and Angela Davis were not just revolutionary icons, but leather-clad, afro-flexing sex symbols. In this way, Perfidia’s sexual exploits with white men, and Bob and Slackjaw’s shared fetishization of her sexuality, come to represent Perfidia’s power, as well as the discomforting exoticization and objectification of her body.
Judging by the buzz “One Battle” has received, it is destined for a slew of Oscar nominations. Like a delirious joy ride in a stolen car, “One Battle” is full of thrills and guilty pleasures that barrel down the road with manic abandon. This is easily Sean Penn’s best role and performance in years, and while Leonardo DiCaprio is the Hollywood headliner, Benicio del Toro quietly steals the show from Leo whenever they share the screen, as does Taylor. The riveting star power that Taylor promised in “One Thousand and One” is confidently and undeniably fulfilled in “One Battle.” The only disappointment is that she doesn’t spend more time on the screen.
“One Battle” is a movie for this moment. It reminds us that while politics and movements are performative, their stakes are real. The members of French 75 are literally chased down like dogs in the street and spend down on social change with their lives. Those of us who fancy ourselves freedom fighters while carrying mortgages, Costco memberships, and Martha’s Vineyard getaways have to consider the true cost of successfully disrupting capitalism and state power. How much are we willing to sacrifice? How much coercion and intimidation can we withstand? And under the current government, how much obliteration of our rights are we willing to endure before we move to not simply resist, but overthrow? As Gil Scott Heron taught us, the revolution won’t be on television, much less on the movie screen or Insta. Nah, y’all — the revolution will be live.