Imagine a world where wealthy white supremacists secretly pull the strings of power, greeting each other with a chilling 'Hail, St. Nick!' while leftist radicals scramble to survive. Sounds like a far-fetched conspiracy theory, right? But this is exactly the world Paul Thomas Anderson dives into with One Battle After Another, a film that subtly—and brilliantly—channels the preoccupations of reclusive literary giant Thomas Pynchon.
In this dense action thriller, Anderson weaves a tale of Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), a villainous military man desperate to join the Christmas Adventurers Club, an invisible cabal of powerful racists. Lockjaw’s paranoia isn’t just about his own ambitions; it’s about hiding a past affair with Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), a Black radical feminist. And this is the part most people miss: these absurd names and over-the-top scenarios aren’t just for laughs—they’re Anderson’s nod to Pynchon’s signature blend of satire and political commentary. From the film’s broad themes to its smallest nuances, Pynchon’s influence is undeniable, even if it wasn’t part of the marketing pitch.
Pynchon, one of the 20th century’s most celebrated yet least understood authors, is known for his sprawling narratives that explore paranoia, clandestine power structures, and the collision of past and present. These themes are front and center in One Battle After Another, where Anderson distills Pynchon’s ideas into a contemporary setting. But here’s where it gets controversial: while Pynchon’s work is often labeled 'unreadable'—so much so that the Pulitzer Advisory Board refused to award him in 1973—Anderson manages to make his ideas accessible, even breezy, without sacrificing their depth.
The film is loosely inspired by Pynchon’s Vineland, a 1990 novel that explores the legacy of the 1960s counterculture through a father-daughter story. While Vineland isn’t Pynchon’s most celebrated work, it’s a rich, weird, and wonderfully accessible entry point into his world. Anderson doesn’t just adapt the novel; he refracts it through a modern lens, tackling themes of generational trauma, radical politics, and the absurdity of power in an era of polarization and surveillance.
Here’s the kicker: Anderson’s adaptation isn’t just a tribute—it’s a bold reinterpretation. He steals Pynchon’s signature devices, like the idea of unseen forces shaping history, and makes them feel urgent and relevant. The Christmas Adventurers, with their absurdity and menace, are a perfect stand-in for Pynchon’s elite cabals, hiding in plain sight. Even the overwhelming complexity of Pynchon’s prose finds its way into the film, in a way that’s both effective and darkly funny.
But Anderson doesn’t stop there. He captures the sense that there’s always more to the story—more to the mechanics of power, more to history, more to the people pulling the strings. Is the film set in a dystopian America? It’s never entirely clear, but the hints are there, from the not-real Bedford Forrest Medal of Honor to the fleeting appearances of characters who demand explanation but vanish before we get it. And this is the part that’ll spark debate: in an age where Pynchon’s fears of mass surveillance and authoritarianism feel eerily prescient, does Anderson’s film go far enough in confronting these realities, or does it lose itself in absurdity?
One Battle After Another isn’t just Anderson’s biggest box office hit; it’s a testament to Pynchon’s enduring relevance. By blending satire, paranoia, and humor, Anderson doesn’t just channel Pynchon—he reinvents him for a new era. So, here’s the question: does this film make Pynchon’s ideas more accessible, or does it risk oversimplifying them? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments—agree or disagree, this is one battle worth fighting.
