Inherent Vice review: Paul Thomas Anderson gets lost in adaptation

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson; Screenwriter: Paul Thomas Anderson; Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Josh Brolin, Owen Wilson, Katherine Waterston, Reese Witherspoon, Benicio del Toro, Jena Malone; Running time: 148 mins; Certificate: 15

With masterpieces like Boogie Nights and Magnolia tucked under his belt, Paul Thomas Anderson's new movies are inevitably threatened by the huge burden of expectation. A bold director who never shies away from a challenge, Anderson's latest effort tackles Thomas Pynchon's supposedly unfilmable novel Inherent Vice and bears all the hallmarks of his finest work – a terrific ensemble cast, acutely observed visual detail and a labyrinthine plot that weaves together disparate and desperate figures. Sadly on this occasion, such individually strong components fail to gel together as a whole and provide a consistently engaging experience.

The intriguing period at the start of the 1970s is the canvas for the story, which involves a stoner private detective known as 'Doc' (Joaquin Phoenix) being asked to help foil a kidnap plot by his ex-girlfriend Shasta (Katherine Waterston). Ensuing events become very convoluted, with Doc visiting a brothel, becoming embroiled in a heroin smuggling plot and also landing on the radar of Detective Christian F "Bigfoot" Bjornsen (Josh Brolin), who wishes him to become an informant. But how far will his feelings for Shasta spur him on? It's hard to care.

The alienation to the intricate story begins straight away. Viewers are bombarded with a disconcertingly large amount of vital details at the very start, failing to allow us sufficient time to process the masses of information and become immersed in the narrative and invested in the characters before they veer off in wild and intangible directions. Without building these early connections, the movie can feel like an ordeal for much of its considerable 148-minute length.

Of course, this would matter little to those already familiar with the source novel – an audience likely to reap many rewards from this adaptation than those less acquainted with Pynchon's literary endeavours. But from the perspective of someone approaching the movie with no prior knowledge of the story, it all feels lost in adaptation. It's that rare beast – a production where you really should bombard yourself with spoilers beforehand so you can sit back and enjoy the artistic merit of the movie rather than trying to follow and understand it.

While Inherent Vice fails to engage as a whole, the sum of its parts is impressive when broken down. Many scenes work very well in isolation, particularly a mesmerising, sexually-charged encounter between Doc and Shasta towards the climax that's cleverly filmed with a largely static camera. Anderson's stark attention to detail also supplies plenty of wonderfully executed visual gags, such as Bigfoot's fondness for devouring/fellating chocolate-coated bananas while Doc looks on in horror.

It's a noble failure, felt all the more because Anderson's films are usually so aesthetically and thematically rich and rewarding while concurrently taking us on an absorbing and progressive journey alongside the protagonists.

Much like his previous collaboration with Anderson in the fascinating opus The Master, Phoenix doesn't so much deliver a performance as exhibit an inhabitation. He really is sublime as the hapless Doc, a less enthused counterpart to The Dude from The Big Lebowski. He's well complemented by the rigidity of Brolin's excellent turn as the self-proclaimed "renaissance detective", a grandiose figure who has an amusing sideline acting in commercials.

It's a noble failure, felt all the more because Anderson's films are usually so aesthetically and thematically rich and rewarding while concurrently taking us on an absorbing and progressive journey alongside the protagonists. But there's just not sufficient motivation to keep invested in what we're witnessing unfold, no matter how great the period setting looks or how note perfect the performances are. Ultimately, the complexities of the novel – a medium that unfolds at the reader's own pace – only serve to weigh down a film that is essentially a simple story of a guy going after a girl.