There are some films that are meant to be seen as films on the biggest screen possible. When I say “as films,” I’m not talking about the quick-hit, .gif-ready, content-generating, get-it-out-now-for-our-short-attention-spans flicks; I’m talking the kind of movie that gruelingly earns your attention and emotional investment and pays out equally large dividends over the rest of its running time. I’m talking about going to see a movie created by someone who completely and totally cares about every last detail and asks us to do the same, and One Battle After Another is a sterling example of this very notion.
It’s no surprise, of course, coming as it does from writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson, a creator who doesn’t do shortcuts or pull fast ones on us; Anderson’s body of work speaks for itself, and One Battle After Another is a wondrous addition to his filmography. Loosely based on another Thomas Pynchon novel (he also adapted Inherent Vice, which is a woefully misunderstood and underappreciated comedy), Anderson’s people/character-first ethic envelops us straight from the beginning. No title card, no flashy graphics—we’re diving straight in as we see Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor) frenetically walking back and forth above a bridge over a migrant detention center at dusk.
Right away, Anderson hooks us. What is this woman doing? Observing? Casing the joint? Something else? When are we? Where are we? Anderson answers with a bold action scene, which is both thrilling and understated in his own fashion: Perfidia’s part of the French 75, a US-based revolutionary group that wants to level the playing field between the haves and have-nots, and tonight, they’re going to free as many of those migrants as possible. Through this operation, we find out a few things about Perfidia and her proclivities: She has a huge penchant for disruption (to the point where she gets a little bit of a chaos boner going); she’s very good at what she does; she and “Ghetto Pat” Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) are in love; and she doesn’t mind humiliating people who are supposed to be in charge, like Col. Steven Lockjaw (Sean Penn), the head of the detention center.
This first confrontation sets the framework for the rest of the film, establishing the film’s triangle of conflict: the love between Pat and Perfidia that results in their daughter, Charlene; the pursuit of the French 75 as they continue their Robin Hood-like activities; and Lockjaw stalking them, mesmerized and obsessed with Perfidia. Anderson and editor Andy Jurgensen deploy a lot of attention-grabbing crosscuts in this first act montage, spread out over Perfidia’s pregnancy to Charlene as an infant, chucking Perfidia, Pat, and the French 75’s greatest hits at us in a surprisingly easy to follow sequence… until coming to the job that separates Perfidia from her family and fractures the French 75, sending them all into hiding or to prison.
Anderson has a patented way of inviting us into his characters’ world, seating us right next to the people taking us along on their journey. But it’s not just the usual “Hey, what’s up? This is who I am and this is what I do” kinda thing; it’s more like gentle brush strokes until the time’s right to explode. Here, we’re exposed to things happening in the here and now with immediacy, but never condescension or overexposition; Anderson times every movement to be just so, placing rather than forcing people in front of his lens for us to evaluate. That’s probably the best way to describe what Anderson does—“place.” The minute he shoves people in front of us, it’s for a reason, and it’s mostly to make us realize with jarring certainty that something big has happened or to make us uneasy with the person we’re looking at.
For instance, in a jump cut rivaling that of Stanley Kubrick’s bone-to-spacecraft shot in 2001: A Space Odyssey, we’re shown an instantaneous passage of time, from the infant Charlene to the now-teenaged Charlene as she powers through a Taekwondo form. Here, in the present, the only name she’s ever known is Willa (Chase Infiniti), the name given to her as an infant when Pat went on the run with her. Life has certainly changed for her; she lives in a house, has friends, goes to school… she’s a fairly normal kid. Many of the film’s themes of identity and plot revolve around her, as she is unaware of the truth about her mother or that her father is a fugitive.
Perfidia’s been in the wind since escaping the witness protection program, so Pat—now going by Bob Ferguson—has been raising her, nurturing the fire that Perfidia passed on to her. We see that time has taken it out of Bob, having sunk into cannabis and alcohol… so it’s no surprise that all the emergency codes and pass phrases he was supposed to memorize have gone completely out of his head. Unfortunate, too, ‘cause Lockjaw—now a Colonel in the United States Army—is resuming his hunt for his own nefarious and sickening purposes, aided and abetted by his loyal squads and having seemingly endless resources at his disposal.
Sean Penn needs to be on awards shortlists for his performance as Lockjaw, committing his body and speech to the creation of a ghastly memorable character, one that is sure to etch itself next to classic cinematic villains like The Night of the Hunter’s Harry Powell or SE7EN’s John Doe. While the character may not have a ton of screen time and his ultimate endgame is destined to garner a lot of audiences’ revulsion, Lockjaw permeates every cell of this film like an unyielding, merciless cancer. His quarry—whether it’s Perfidia, Willa, or Bob—doesn’t have to see him face to face to strike fear into them, and the more they try to escape, the closer he gets.
This movie also looks incredible, captured beautifully by cinematographer Michael Bauman’s VistaVision lensing. Bauman’s camerawork is undoubtedly another star in this film, adding depth and almost tangible textures to the sights laid before us. Close-ups on faces, landscapes, the rising and falling of a deserted mountain road, street riots, car chases—they’re all captured with significant care. Not just to show us what’s happening, but to make us accomplices rather than just observers. There’s an elevated yet workmanlike quality to this film that vaults it into an exclusive sphere where the word “classic” would not be amiss; this is certainly one of 2025’s best movies, if not one of Paul Thomas Anderson’s best.
This is an action/dark comedy movie done by one of our generation’s finest directors, and it beats every expectation you might have. I don’t know how he does it, but he makes his films vibrate with intensity without being overt. This film is alive in so many ways—not just through what’s happening on screen or whether the camera’s moving at high speeds along with the action, but just in being. We don’t need to know everything about everyone, but Anderson gently shows us how they move and speak, which leads us to understand what they’re thinking, and in turn, become more involved. I honestly don’t think there’s a better director who does this as well as Anderson, and One Battle After Another is truly a showcase of how he brings us into a world without any warning and trusts us enough to get it.
P.S. Bonus points go to this film for mentioning the name of a fictional restaurant from 1972’s The Mechanic. (Chicken Lickin’, anyone?)
