Depiction as Endorsement: The Problematic Picture

Before continuing, I suggest caution on the subject matter. Do not read if you think this may be trigging or have not seen the films and wish to without knowing any spoilers as the endings will be discussed.

(PTA is shorthand for Paul Thomas Anderson)

“Depiction is not endorsement” is often said about films with potentially controversial, taboo, subject matter. But where is the line, and can we really rely on audience interpretation to pertain a film’s worthiness?

Very recent examples prompted me to write this piece, as I had vastly different experiences with them and wondered why. Licorice Pizza, the latest from the genre defying Paul Thomas Anderson, and Red Rocket, Sean Baker’s next foray into social realism, seem to be quite similar, so why did I come out of them feeling so different? The answer, for me, is in the depiction.

Licorice Pizza tells the story of a fifteen year old boy and a twenty-five year-old woman coming to terms with their crush on one another and their schemes and adventures along the way. Firstly, I say crush and not relationship because this never really goes beyond infatuation, and the teenage Gary and often childlike Alana (Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim, both believable and a joy to watch) seem to be finding their way in life, not yet settled on anything but the short term.

Sean Baker’s Red Rocket follows Simon Rex as Mikey Saber (or Davies, as we are told once, though he tellingly uses his stage name instead) a former porn star who travels back to his hometown of Texas City for a reason that isn’t entirely clear. That is until we find out that his wife Lexi (Bree Elrod), whom Mikey refers to as his ex - though they are still married - lives there with her mother, and thus he tries to worm his way back in. He begins selling weed for neighbours again, catches up with neighbour Lonnie, and pursues a relationship with seventeen year-old donut shop worker Strawberry.

Let’s start with the titles. Both films have titles which seem to have nothing to do with the film. Licorice Pizza was originally titled Soggy Bottom, a name which is still used for the waterbed sales business Gary sets up, and it was probably wise to change the title. The title chosen, however, was a name given to record shops in the area frequented by Anderson, though they do not appear and are not referenced in the film. He has stated that two words that conjure up childhood memories for him are ‘licorice’ and ‘pizza’. It could be interpreted as two things that do not go together at all, a sickly-sweet mix a child may throw together, and then regret. In this way, the title does make some sort of sense, but it requires further knowledge and interpretation to be understood and possibly just sounds like random nonsense to most audiences. It is also evident to me that this latter interpretation is not something Anderson had in mind. Similarly, Red Rocket relies on some knowledge of obscure slang terms. Red Rocket is a slang term for a male dog’s penis and is more generally used in the adult film industry to describe the genitals of a man. Not surprisingly, this again required further research on my part as it is not mentioned in the film. However, I would argue that this title does fit its film more neatly than the former. In the film, the only dog is female, which implies that the slang term here refers to the animalistic, flighty Mikey. The real canine Sophie is seen playing in the grass and quietly sitting outside, often seemingly staring at Mikey. You wonder if Sophie knows Mikey’s plan.

Where I think this film works and Licorice Pizza falls short is in the characters, and how they are presented to the audience. Mikey, who serves as both protagonist and antagonist in Red Rocket, is morally reprehensible and yet quite funny and distinctly recognisable. I felt uncomfortable at points when I laughed at his break-neck speed chats and stupid quips, because he is quite simply not a nice person. Short phone conversations with, we presume, his company back in LA make his intentions with - and for - Strawberry clear to us. We know his plan, to gain Strawberry’s trust, to make her into a porn star, and live off female talent as a “suitcase pimp” (a phrase which Baker learnt whilst talking with adult film stars as research for his 2012 film Starlet). We are not supposed to route for the relationship. Conversely, Licorice Pizza paints a much less explicit relationship, but it is outright called “a coming of age love story” in synopses.

Indeed, Paul Thomas Anderson thinks of it as such. For him, the age difference didn’t really seem a factor. Which begs the question, why do it? He admitted he was “capable of missing the mark” when questioned about race representation in the film, that he struggles to separate his interpretation of things with how audiences take it. This, to me, seems naïve and non-committal. He created a character who spoke English in an affected accent to his Japanese wife in an attempt to translate to her. I think. Later, for no reason at all, the character has a different Japanese wife, who doesn’t speak and is offhandedly dismissed: the joke repeated. He saw this as scenes for us to laugh at the racist middle aged white man. I fear most didn’t. Many will have laughed at the accent and not seen whatever social commentary PTA intended. These ill-conceived scenes mean that Licorice Pizza cannot, in my opinion, be considered an award-worthy screenplay, as it is being lauded, let alone Best Picture contender. I understand why people like it. It’s incredibly well acted by the leads – both newcomers, though one is the son of frequent PTA collaborator the late Phillip Seymour-Hoffman, and the other is a performer in the sibling band Haim, all of which appear in the film, and has frequently worked with PTA on their music videos.

Whilst it’s perhaps simplistic and obvious to say that they relationship depicted is problematic, it isn’t that in itself that makes me uneasy. At one stage, during an incredibly straight forward and direct job interview, Alana slips up and says she is twenty-eight years old, before quickly catching herself. I wonder then, is the character twenty-five and that really was a slip of the tongue, or are we meant to think she is twenty-eight and is lying to Gary? If so, why only shave off two years? Both actors do not look their ages in the film, and so could play eighteen and early twenties respectively with ease, so this insistence on the age gap perplexes me. I don’t actually know what it adds to the story, beyond telling audiences that people mature differently, and at different stages in life. We all know that anyway, don’t we?

Sean Baker uses non-actors in the majority of the roles, as he often does in his films. Simon Rex and Bree Elrod (who plays Rex’s wife) are the only professional actors in the cast. Baker had seen Rex in a number of comedy roles and was confused as to why he wasn’t being given more. Baker had him in mind for the part five years before even informing. Whether Baker knew of Rex’s previous experience in adult videos I do not know, but it’s likely. Ethan Darbone (Lonnie) was approached in a restaurant by Baker, who said he liked Darbone's look. Brittney Rodriguez (dead-eyed and ferocious as weed seller June) was walking her dog when Baker asked her to audition, and Suzanna Son, the break-out star of the piece, was approached several years ago as she left a screening of a film Baker also happened to be seeing. She had, unlike the others, studied theatre, but didn’t yet see herself becoming an actress. Baker did not contact her for two years, but it is evident that he has an eye for actors and did not forget her. This is certainly a star-making turn and I hope to see more from her in the future.

Important to note, for me at least, is the nickname given to Son's character. Strawberry, real name Raylee, was inspired by Son's Instagram moniker 'thestrawberrybutcher'. In the film, Raylee chooses the nickname for herself. She is almost always seen wearing a strawberry necklace and has red hair, so it seems fitting. The fact she choses the name gives the character a sense of agency. She seems to be the one who initiates the relationship when Mikey returns that night, having spotted her and, obviously, instantly taking to her. She seems to be fully aware of what she is doing, and likes it. This, however, is exactly what Mikey wants. A porn star needs a name, and she already has a perfect one. Strawberry's eagerness to become "adult" (her 18th birthday, we are repeatedly told, is mere weeks away), means she does not see Mikey as anything other than a loving companion. Mikey calls her his girlfriend and no one bats an eyelid, so she does not see the issue. This plays into Mikey's hands, and what Strawberry sees as her own decisions, her own adultness, may in fact be Mikey's subtle coercion.

The ending of Licorice Pizza is particularly distasteful and, whilst this is somewhat subjective, the implications for me are hard to ignore. Whilst working for the Mayoral campaign of real-life counsellor Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie), she is asked to meet him at a restaurant for drinks. Ostensibly as his date, indeed she seems to thinks so, but upon arrival she realises he is actually talking to a man about their relationship. Wachs is a closeted gay man. The problem is not with this, this scene is quiet heartbreakingly real and played with great care. No, the problem comes when Alana is asked to leave with Joel’s partner to avert suspicion. The partner, Matthew, cries in Alana’s arms, clearly distraught at having to hide in the shadows, that life is hard and he wishes he could live as he wants to. He asks if Alana has a boyfriend. “Yes and no,” she replies. Matthew enquires if he is “a shit”. Clearly distracted, Alana says, “Yeah. Yeah,' subtly changing the tone of her voice. “They’re all shits,” Matthew exclaims.

Alana is then seen running around the streets, a smile crossing her face. Simultaneously, Gary does the same. They meet, they kiss, they fall over laughing. Alana tells Gary she loves him. This is probably not romantic love, but it cannot be denied that the implication is there. They at least think they may be in love romantically. This seemed to me to suggest that there is some connection to be made between the struggles of being gay in the 1970s and in general, with the struggles Alana feels harbouring romantic feelings for a fifteen year old boy. I do think, again, PTA did not see this interpretation arising, and therein lies the issue. He makes controversial films without knowing, or perhaps even caring about, the controversy they could cause. This is just my opinion, and I in no way intend to belittle PTA and his achievement. This is just my subjective thoughts on this piece of work.

The last sequence of Red Rocket also sees Mikey running to meet up with Strawberry, to flee to LA away from his weed-selling venture that has, to put it mildly, gone wrong. He does the only thing he knows - runs away. He intended to go in the morning anyway, or so he said. Upon reaching the house in the morning, Strawberry is dancing suggestively in the doorway, clad only in lacy red underwear. NSYNC’s 'Bye Bye Bye', which has permeated the film throughout with its usage and caused a complete reinterpretation of the lyrics for me, plays in reverse (having played forward at the beginning), and we see a small smirk on wide-eyed Mikey’s face. This suggests to me, much like Licorice Pizza, that Mikey has not changed, and is simply seeing Strawberry as a way back in to his porn star lifestyle, awards and all. Through the course of the film, he has weaned his way back into his wife’s home - and bed - started a relationship with Strawberry, begun selling weed to builders at the donut shop without his neighbours knowledge, thereby keeping money they suggest they are entitled to, and has caused a massive highway crash and managed to convince his neighbour to take the hit for him. He does not care about anyone or anything except his own reputation, and in Strawberry he sees someone he can use to resurrect that reputation.

You get out of a film what you put in, and no two films illustrate that better. I was confused then, knowing only that both depicted age-gap romances, that I left both screenings feeling a little bit sick. Licorice Pizza was uncomfortable and I felt gross. Red Rocket made me feel this, but with a smile. That is to say, I came away thinking about the themes of the film and how they were portrayed to us, the audience. Licorice Pizza, conversely, I felt muddled its themes and I was thinking more about what the director, who also writes and even does the cinematography under a pseudonym, wanted me to think. I felt with PTA that I was being told to think something I didn’t. With Red Rocket , Sean Baker’s writing and direction felt both real, completely objective, assured and measured, and somehow left room for audience interpretation. And, crucially, that interpretation cannot really harm the film.