Paul Thomas Anderson is once again tackling Thomas Pynchon’s work with his forthcoming film One Battle After Another, a contemporary reinterpretation of Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland. The timing is notable as Pynchon himself garners attention with his upcoming October release, Shadow Ticket, alongside a rumored recent public sighting captured on Getty Images. This renewed focus places Anderson’s adaptation at the center of ongoing discussions about the viability and approach of Pynchon adaptations in cinema.
Challenges Surrounding Pynchon Adaptations in Contemporary Cinema
Critics and skeptics have voiced doubts about the commercial and artistic feasibility of Anderson’s new project, despite its high-profile cast including Leonardo DiCaprio. They argue that the film’s intellectual nature, even with elements like guns and secret agents, may limit its appeal. Additionally, the reported budget exceeding $130 million dwarfs any previous Anderson film’s box office performance, raising questions about whether such financial risk can be recovered. This debate echoes broader uncertainties about adapting complex literary works like those of Pynchon to mainstream screens, especially within the framework of highbrow postmodernism.
Understanding American Postmodern Writers and Their Cinematic Legacies
To better contextualize Anderson’s endeavor, it is insightful to explore Pynchon’s place among a generation of American postmodern authors who rose to prominence in the 1960s. This cohort includes luminaries such as John Barth, William Gaddis, Robert Coover, John Hawkes, William H. Gass, Kurt Vonnegut, and Susan Sontag. These writers, often linked to the counterculture and heavily influenced by continental philosophy and modernist literary challenges, produced works known for their comic depth, philosophical inquiry, and narrative complexity. Don DeLillo and Ishmael Reed are also considered notable late entrants into this group, the latter famously referenced in Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow.
Their writing arose from unique historical circumstances: the success of Joseph Heller’s Catch-22, the influence of Beat literature exemplified by Kerouac and Burroughs, and an intermingling with philosophical giants like Wittgenstein, Heidegger, and Sartre. While generally known for long, dense comic novels, exceptions among these writers highlight the diversity within the group.
Why Avant-Garde Literature Faces Challenges in Film Adaptations
Despite the artistic merits of postmodern literature, its translation into film has often struggled due to the contrast between avant-garde literary techniques and conventional narrative cinema. Traditional films tend to succeed when adapting classic, straightforward novels, while more experimental works like Ulysses or Lolita pose adaptation challenges. This tension frames the anticipation surrounding Anderson’s project, as it may redefine how Pynchon’s complex storytelling fits within filmic language.
Examples of Pynchon’s Literary Peers on Screen: A Retrospective Survey
The cinematic interpretations of Pynchon’s contemporaries offer an illuminating reference for Anderson’s adaptation prospects.
1. Susan Sontag’s Attempt with Duet for Cannibals (1969)
Susan Sontag, already an accomplished writer and critic with novels and essays such as Against Interpretation, ventured into filmmaking with Duet for Cannibals, her first of four directorial efforts. Shot in Swedish despite Sontag’s lack of fluency in the language, the film unfolds as a stylized and controlled exploration of intricate Swedish sexual liaisons involving poetry and potential suicide motifs. While visually appealing and carefully crafted, the film failed to inspire or captivate, remaining distant and uninspired, mirroring some critiques of Sontag’s novels. Moreover, her limited cinematic success discouraged other literary peers from attempting film direction.
2. The Adaptation of John Barth’s The End of the Road (1970)
John Barth’s 1958 novel, a cerebral and sober narrative involving a complex ménage à trois, was adapted by Adam Avakian and Terry Southern, known for works like Dr. Strangelove and Easy Rider. Their 1970 film transforms Barth’s characters from beatniks into outspoken hippies. The opening sequence presents an intense montage referencing historical events, including the Holocaust, WWII, nuclear weapons, and American icons such as JFK and MLK, some of which postdated the novel’s setting. Although the film maintains faithful dialogue, it suffers from a dull, repetitive tone centered on prolonged intellectual discussions.
“X-rated by the Production Code Administration” / “Z-rated by the muses.”
—John Barth
The cinematography by Gordon Willis, who would later shoot classics like The Godfather and Manhattan, was competent but failed to elevate the film beyond its shortcomings.
3. Bill Gunn and Ishmael Reed Collaborate on Personal Problems (1980)
Combining Bill Gunn’s experience with the cult vampire movie Ganja & Hess and Ishmael Reed’s satirical novel Mumbo Jumbo, Personal Problems emerged as a meta soap opera depicting life in Harlem. Initially met with confusion and limited audience reception, the film explores personal struggles rather than broad social injustices, focusing on issues like family loss, disappointing social events, and utility bills.
“It’s not that I’m unhappy; it’s just that I’m not happy,”
—Character in Personal Problems
This perspective challenges clichés about Black American suffering, suggesting everyday woes bear as much truth as grand historical narratives like Roots. Reappraisal following a 2018 restoration has cemented Personal Problems as a significant work within Black and experimental filmmaking traditions.
4. Philip Haas’s Interpretation of John Hawkes’ The Blood Oranges (1997)
John Hawkes’ 1971 erotic novel set on a fictitious Mediterranean island was adapted by Philip Haas into a film navigating sexual role exchanges between two couples. While the novel was a critique of the swinging sixties, the film reflects the 1990s post-AIDS era focus on forbidden sexuality, paralleling films like Stealing Beauty and The English Patient. Despite attempt to capture the sultry atmosphere, the movie falls short due to poor production values and uninspired execution. A notably disappointing scene involves literalizing the title with crates of apples substituting for blood oranges, highlighting the film’s budgetary constraints.
5. Alan Rudolph’s Troubled Version of Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions (1999)
Vonnegut’s biting satire of consumerism and American life was brought to the screen by Alan Rudolph, starring Bruce Willis as a suicidal car dealer. Willis’s stark departure from his action roles bewildered audiences and contributed to the film’s swift suppression. Recent restoration efforts, accompanied by Rudolph’s first interviews on the subject, have reignited niche critical interest.
“This would be a perfect location for a fried-chicken franchise, you know, right next to the prison.”
—Character in Breakfast of Champions
The film juggles dark social commentary and surreal humor, featuring eccentric performances by Owen Wilson, Nick Nolte, and Buck Henry, among others, but overall remains a difficult watch.
6. Alex Ross Perry’s Low-Budget Impolex (2009)
At just 24 years old and with only $15,000, Alex Ross Perry attempted his version of Gravity’s Rainbow on 16mm film. Impolex is a condensed, 70-minute interpretation that borrows key Pynchon elements such as the V-2 rocket and surreal encounters, but stands more as a personal artistic statement than a faithful adaptation. The protagonist Tyrone’s mission includes inexplicable episodes and meta-narrative twists, culminating with the revelation that much of the story is imagined by a worried girlfriend.
“Because it’s a rocket and rockets explode.”
—Dialogue in Impolex
While limited in scope, the film hints at Perry’s emerging style and humor rather than deeply engaging with Pynchon’s original complexity.
7. Inherent Vice: Paul Thomas Anderson’s Previous Pynchon Adaptation (2014)
Anderson’s 2014 adaptation of Pynchon’s detective novel Inherent Vice initially met with muted responses but has grown in appreciation, especially as lead actor Joaquin Phoenix’s star rose. The film distinguishes itself by faithfully capturing Pynchon’s intricate humor and layering every scene with visual wit. Anderson deepens minor characters like Owen Wilson’s Coy Harlingen and Benicio Del Toro’s Sauncho Smilax Esq., rendering them more nuanced and engaging.
The film’s use of specific imagery—such as the view of Manhattan Beach, an evocative “last supper,” and a quirky, canine-shaped headquarters—enrich the storytelling atmosphere, supported by a carefully curated soundtrack featuring Can, Neil Young, and original compositions by Jonny Greenwood. Viewed by some as Anderson’s finest work, it demonstrates how a Pynchon novel can be successfully translated to film.
8. Noah Baumbach’s White Noise (2022) and Its Mixed Reception
Among the most expensive Pynchon-related adaptations to date, with estimated Netflix costs between $80 and $140 million, Baumbach’s White Noise struggled to find favor. Attempting to convey Don DeLillo’s paranoia and existential alienation, the film instead replaces these themes with warmth, kindness, and familial joy. Baumbach’s choice to preserve large portions of the original dialogue creates tension between the dark source material and the film’s upbeat tone.
While some fans appreciate nods to Brian De Palma’s work through stylistic references, the movie often feels tonally dissonant, culminating in awkward moments such as an incongruous ending featuring an LCD Soundsystem music video, which some viewers found embarrassing.
The Enduring Debate on Translating Postmodern Literature to Film
Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest Pynchon adaptation invites reflection on the broader challenges and potentials of adapting complex postmodern novels for the screen. Previous attempts by literary contemporaries have ranged from ambitious failures to cult successes, underlining the difficulties of melding avant-garde narrative structures with accessible cinematic storytelling.
Anderson’s prior success with Inherent Vice offers hope that One Battle After Another might balance artistic daring with audience engagement. Yet skepticism persists due to the escalating production scale and the inherent intricacies of Pynchon’s work. As the film’s release approaches, the debate among critics, cinephiles, and Pynchon fans promises to intensify, potentially reshaping how such challenging literature is experienced through the medium of film.
