Hoffman is the son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman, whose long and fruitful relationship with Anderson resulted in some of the defining work of his career, ranging from the heartbreaking (“Boogie Nights”) to the terrifying (“ The Master”). “Licorice Pizza” will make superstars of them both, and deservedly so. Once the credits finished rolling, I had no desire to get up from my seat and leave the theater, I was so wrapped up in the film’s cozy, wistful spell.Īnd in Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman, both making their feature film debuts, Anderson has given us the most glorious guides. “Licorice Pizza” meanders in the best possible way: You never know where it’s going but you can’t wait to find out where it’ll end up, and when it’s over, you won’t want it to end. It’s also wildly unexpected from one moment to the next as Anderson masterfully navigates tonal shifts from absurd humor to tender romance with a couple of legitimate action sequences thrown in between. Anderson has harnessed all the thrilling, muscular techniques that are his directing trademarks as well as his affection for high drama as a writer and applied them to telling a story that’s surprisingly sweet. (As a kid, I used to go to the one on Topanga Canyon Boulevard in Canoga Park, across the street from Topanga Plaza.) He’s taken us on a tour of this area before in a couple of the great, early films that put him on the map (“ Boogie Nights” and “ Magnolia”) but with “Licorice Pizza,” he offers us a gentler view. This is the place of my youth, too-I grew up In Woodland Hills, just down the 101 Freeway from where the events of “Licorice Pizza” occur, and I recall fondly the Southern California record store chain that gives the film its title. His love is specific and palpable for the Valley, with its suburban sprawl and non-descript strip malls.
This is a place Anderson knows well from his own childhood and it’s where he still lives today.
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