Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest triumph, “One Battle After Another,” is far more than just a movie; it’s a thunderous, wildly entertaining, and deeply profound no to the apathy, injustice, and tyranny that plague our world. This isn’t just a film; it’s a carnival-esque epic that grapples with the eternal struggle between good and evil, the intoxicating dance of violence and power, and our inherent human right to fight for justice. At its heart, it’s also a poignant love story. While it doesn’t shy away from confronting the shortcomings of both history and our present reality, it passionately champions the hope of tomorrow. The direction is masterful, but what truly electrifies is its fearless engagement with the current zeitgeist, a rare feat for an American fiction film. It feels incredibly timely and urgent, and it’s so laugh-out-loud funny, even when those laughs are laced with a fierce, burning anger.
The narrative of “One Battle After Another” plunges us into the wild escapades of Bob Ferguson, a magnificent, endearing fool brought to life by a fully committed Leonardo DiCaprio. Bob transforms from a revolutionary foot soldier into a hunted terrorist, an underground escapee, and a devoted single father. While the story primarily unfolds in the present day, its roots reach back sixteen years to Bob’s tumultuous period with the French 75, a radical organization (definitely fictional!) curiously named after both a military cannon and a cocktail featured in “Casablanca.” The group’s core tenets—equality and freedom—are clear, if a bit vague on the finer points of their revolutionary doctrine. Anderson, much like his characters, is more interested in showcasing action over exposition.
The emotional core of the narrative is the intense love shared between Bob and Perfidia Beverly Hills, played with electrifying energy by Teyana Taylor. Perfidia is a commanding presence within the French 75, a woman of unyielding spirit who slices through the world with precision. We see Bob, early in their journey, enthusiastically following her during a daring nighttime raid on a migrant detention center. There, alongside other insurgents, they skillfully disarm military guards and free a multitude of men, women, and children. It’s during this chaotic liberation that Perfidia first confronts her formidable adversary, Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (portrayed brilliantly by Sean Penn), whom she effortlessly dominates with a peculiar command: “Get up, all the way up,” a bizarre order that Lockjaw hilariously obeys, his pants comically tented by an involuntary erection.
This pivotal and utterly ridiculous scene is masterfully amplified by Anderson, who films the absurd erection from a low angle, making it comically loom over the frame. This visual choice powerfully underscores Lockjaw’s utter powerlessness in the face of Perfidia. He loses command not only of the detainees but also of his own physical being, and crucially, of her. By disarming him in such a visceral way, Perfidia ignites a twisted, obsessive desire within Lockjaw. More profoundly, her act challenges a deeply entrenched power structure rooted in the historical sexual exploitation of enslaved Black women by white men—a power dynamic the film’s antagonists are desperate to preserve. Lockjaw’s relentless pursuit for the remainder of the film is a desperate attempt to reestablish his lost dominance.
The inspiration behind “One Battle After Another” comes from Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel, “Vineland,” a work from which Anderson has freely drawn to serve his unique vision. Pynchon’s story kicks off in 1984, a year marked by Ronald Reagan’s second presidential victory and the lingering shadow of what was dubbed “the Nixonian Repression.” For its quirkily named survivors of the post-1960s era (Anderson crafts his own whimsical character names), time has progressed, yet as one character notes, “the personnel changed, the Repression went on, growing wider, deeper, and less visible.” Anderson himself spoke about his admiration for “Vineland” in a 2015 interview with author Steve Erickson, held fittingly in Trump Tower, calling it “near the top for me” and admitting he would either adapt it or “just rip a lot of it off.”
In “One Battle After Another,” Anderson largely avoids direct political references, and I don’t recall any specific real-world politicians being named. Nevertheless, the film’s crucial detention center takeover by the French 75 is set around 2009, coinciding with the start of Barack Obama’s first term. This sequence is a masterclass in propulsive, intricately choreographed filmmaking, instantly establishing the movie’s exhilarating tempo. The group members are ecstatic after their successful raid, their triumph as intoxicating as Lockjaw’s obsession with Perfidia. “¡Viva la revolución!” Bob exclaims during their escape—a rallying cry that echoes through their ensuing whirlwind romance, bank robberies, the birth of their daughter, their eventual separation, and their life on the run. Ultimately, everything unravels, leaving Bob lost in a haze of cannabis.
Anderson keeps the pedal to the metal for much of “One Battle After Another,” though he does offer a slight reprieve when the story leaps to the present day. Years after vanishing underground, Bob now resides with his daughter, Willa (portrayed by the remarkable newcomer Chase Infiniti), in a house nestled in Northern California—that quintessential landscape of towering redwoods, potent weed, and pervasive paranoia. His days are a blur of alcohol and marijuana, with smoke perpetually swirling around his perpetually bewildered expression, his meager ponytail a sad testament to his faded revolutionary zeal. The fire is gone, and so is Perfidia, who disappeared long ago. To fill the quiet hours, he watches Gillo Pontecorvo’s 1966 classic, “The Battle of Algiers”—a film he silently recites—chronicling Algeria’s fight for independence.
While Bob is undeniably a figure of much laughter, his personal and generational shortcomings reveal a deep well of pathos. Yet, Anderson cleverly steers clear of cheap pity. Both the character’s inherent nature and DiCaprio’s towering, physically expressive performance—a true madcap tour de force—prevent us from feeling overly sympathetic towards him. We observe Bob, but we never truly delve into his inner world, largely because he doesn’t seem to himself. He is a profoundly unaware man, stirred to action against oppression only when it directly impacts him, which happens dramatically with the return of Lockjaw, his scowl as menacing and his posture as rigid as ever. (Penn’s distinctive walk subtly hints at a metaphorical rod firmly lodged in the character’s rear.)
Ultimately, what redeems Bob is love: his unwavering affection for Willa, and her reciprocal devotion to him. This powerful bond illuminates the rest of the film like a guiding light. It has forged an unbreakable alliance between father and daughter, a “conspiracy of two.” This love has shaped Willa into the formidable person she is, and it has likely kept Bob from completely fading away into oblivion. It is this profound love that finally compels him to abandon his self-imposed sanctuary and his state of inertia when Lockjaw—now supported by a sinister cabal of Christian white supremacists known as the Christmas Adventurers Club—violently re-enters their lives, putting Willa in grave danger. The film then shifts gears, as both Bob and Willa flee Lockjaw independently, fragmenting the narrative into distinct threads that eventually intertwine. From this point, the stakes escalate, becoming far more intricate and terrifying.
Anderson’s unparalleled talent for orchestrating a multitude of narrative elements is spectacularly evident in “One Battle After Another,” particularly through his stellar ensemble cast. The supporting roles are filled with standout performances, including Regina Hall as Deandra, one of the founding members of the French 75, and Benicio Del Toro as Sensei Sergio St. Carlos, a martial-arts guru who masterfully operates an underground network aiding migrants. In a brilliant stroke of casting, Tony Goldwyn—renowned for his role in the captivating TV series “Scandal”—appears as one of the menacing leaders of the Christmas Adventurers Club. “Scandal,” which debuted in 2012, featured Goldwyn’s white president character in a passionate romance with Kerry Washington’s Black crisis-management expert, a romanticized fantasy that seemed to perfectly capture its supposedly “post-racial” era.
“One Battle After Another” presents a vividly imagined world, one that, despite its whimsical names and fantastical flourishes, resonates with a striking sense of reality. The film doesn’t always tie up every loose end neatly, a quality that paradoxically enhances its authentic feel. Even after two viewings, I find myself still dissecting its intricate themes and visuals, pondering questions of power, race, and sexuality, and debating whether Perfidia truly receives the justice she deserves—all while still basking in the exhilarating rush the movie delivers. Few contemporary filmmakers possess Anderson’s level of skill, and even fewer could craft such a profound, heartfelt cry for resistance as the indelible image of a heavily pregnant Black revolutionary fiercely firing a machine gun. It’s a moment that transcends time, both wild and thrilling, and unmistakably, profoundly American.