For this writer, Paul Thomas Anderson is a divisive tough sell. His movies, while technically sound and visually sharp, can frequently feel tiresome, bizarre, and vague to me. For many critics and cinephiles, those adjectives make him a courageous, risk-tasking genius instead. Such can be granted, but, with apologies, his nature and results can still make him exactly the former: tiresome, bizarre, and vague. The Master perpetuates that split sentiment.
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