Licorice Pizza jumps a notoriously difficult hurdle in that it luxuriates in nostalgia without coming across as horrifically self-indulgent. I’m sure that part of the reason why I watched Licorice Pizza with such kind eyes is the amount of credit that Paul Thomas Anderson has in the bank after Boogie Nights, There Will Be Blood, The Master, etc., etc… In terms of PTA’s body of work, Licorice Pizza has perhaps the most in common with Boogie Nights in its ability to make the viewer nostalgic for a time that they didn’t even live through—and a decade that’s often a punchline rather than the star of the show. There are shots of broad, sun-soaked California streets, hazy twilight, the glow of neon heralding the more lurid decade to come, all accompanied by a sublime soundtrack of rock, funk, and soul.

The film speaks to the universal feeling of being an awkward teenager or twenty-something; the world feels small, and romance is the most important thing. The two protagonists, Alana and Gary, are at opposite ends of the spectrum—Gary is a precocious teenager, while Alana is a directionless twenty-something. Gary, a child actor and general bon vivant, wants to be taken seriously by the adults he surrounds himself with, but most of all he wants to be taken seriously by Alana. Alana, on the other hand, doesn’t even take herself seriously. The two cross this spectrum throughout the film, switching from maturity to childishness as they navigate this small part of the world, and the audience is left to wonder whether they will ever meet in the middle. 

Part of the film’s charm is that the two actors (both newcomers) look very much like regular people. Gary (played by Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Philip Seymour) has acne; his suave patter is undermined by the puppy fat spilling over his belt. Alana, meanwhile, is awkward; in short skirts, she teeters on her long legs, wanting to go in one direction but seemingly pulled in another. In brief, they are both inescapably human, which makes their romance all the more engaging.

Fans of PTA’s Inherent Vice will find a lot to love here (although they might be few in number), and I found myself thinking of that film a lot. It’s a wonderful show of range from the director that he can do these intimate, innocent movies while also birthing tense, mind-bending films like There Will Be Blood. It’s just as well that Licorice Pizza has been released at such a depressing time, given the pandemic; this film is a tonic, showing us kids being kids, meeting other people, finding themselves, going for dinner and sneaking drinks, partying in a waterbed store, getting into trouble… They are just living, and it’s wonderful to witness. Fingers crossed that we can all get back to living soon enough. 

It doesn’t hurt that Licorice Pizza has hit cinemas during a freezing Great British winter—who wouldn’t want to be transported to sunny 1970s California right now? We saw this film in the small but perfectly formed ICA auditorium, where a portable heater running full blast (and aimed at our heads) added to the immersion.