28 October 2025
One Battle After Another — Raw Thoughts After Watching PTA's Latest
Jjji
I haven’t watched that many of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films.
Phantom Thread was a recent watch, but Boogie Nights and Punch Drunk Love live somewhere deep in my hazy early-twenties memory.
Still, I was excited about the release of his latest film — partly because PTA films are always something, and partly because the reviews coming out of Venice and other festivals were so strong.
And honestly, films like this are what keep cinemas alive. In the age of streaming and algorithmic boredom, it’s rare for a film to actually pull people out of bed and into their local theatres.
First Impression
Like I mentioned in my last journal, I really loved it.
The movie runs for three hours, but it genuinely felt like 90 minutes — and I wasn’t alone. So many podcast reviewers mentioned the same thing. Which means, yes: I’m confidently recommending it. It’s not one of those overly self-serious “auteur for cinephiles only” type of films. This one’s for everyone.
That said, I wanted to write down my raw thoughts — before doing any research or reading any interpretations — just to document how I felt in the moment. I’ll probably revisit this film later and compare.
(Also: spoiler warning.)
Jonny Greenwood's Score - On Point
Jonny Greenwood nails it again. For those who don’t know, he’s the guitarist from Radiohead, and a long-time collaborator of PTA — this marks their fifth film together.
In Phantom Thread, I genuinely believe that the entire 50s elegance of the film is made complete by Greenwood’s music. And with One Battle After Another, the score carries the emotional architecture — foreshadowing, tension, grandeur. It’s the backbone.
- The title track, “One Battle After Another,” begins with trembling strings that swell into something transcendent. I get goosebumps every time. The sound is deep and resonant, filling you up from the inside. It plays when Willa and Lockjaw face each other in the cathedral for the first time — a breathtaking moment. The contrast between their characters becomes clear: past vs. future, oppressor vs. rebel, control vs. liberation. The score makes that duality monumental.
- Then there’s “The French 75.” I have such a soft spot for piano tracks that feel a bit dissonant — rhythmic but unresolved, emotional without being sentimental. This one is exactly that. It loops for almost twenty minutes in one sequence, and I could’ve listened for hours.
What Worked for Me
- Willa's parentage subplot.
I loved how the film doesn't dwell on whether she's Lockjaw's biological daughter. In so many films, the "secret parentage" becomes the emotional anchor. But here, it’s treated as a minor detail/fact — relevant to Lockjaw's obsession with racial purity, but irrelevant to Willa’s emotional identity.
Honestly, that felt refreshing. Because in real life, what defines a relationship isn’t whose sperm won the race, but the years that come after.
I appreciated that the film didn’t make it a melodramatic identity crisis or some paternal ego battle. - The car chase scene.
10/10. Absolutely insane. Easily one of the most talked-about sequences for anyone who’s seen it. The tension, the pacing, the adrenaline — pure cinematic joy. Watching it in IMAX was the best decision I’ve made all month.
- The portrayal of revolution.
There are two contrasting revolutionary forces in the film:
- French 75 — loud, chaotic, self-proclaimed radicals, all heat and youth and impulse. Led by Teyana Taylor’s character (who absolutely devours the screen), their rebellion feels performative — more like a projection of freedom and mania than a reflection of deeply held ideology. When captured, their fragility shows; the betrayal of comrades for reduced sentences says it all.
- The Silent Resistance — an underground network built by immigrants and outcasts just trying to survive. They fight quietly, collectively, through mutual aid rather than spectacle. They don’t scream; they sustain. Watching them contrasted against French 75 — noise vs. necessity, ego vs. solidarity — was powerful.
What Didn’t Work for Me
- Beverly Hills’ character arc.
Her choices — the affair, the betrayal, the sloppy mistake during the heist, and her jealousy over the newborn — all felt underdeveloped. I don’t mind a morally grey woman, but I do want her to make sense. - The ending.
Not only did the instant forgiveness via a single letter felt too easy, but Willa suddenly deciding to join a revolutionary group after reading that same letter..?? I don't know.. that just didn't land for me. - The Character's depth.
Don't get me wrong, the characters are indeed very vivid. They have presence. They pull you in.
But they are not always layered.
Lockjaw borders on cartoonishly evil. The Christmas cult's theatrics and how they were presented feel a bit exaggerated to the point of parody. Even Perfidia Beverly Hills, magnetic as she is, veers into chaotic archetype territory, more for the sake of entertainment than thematic depth.
That said, not every movie needs to be grounded in realism. Some exist to be grand, operatic metaphors.
Final Thoughts — On Revolution and Self-Deception
Watching this film reminded me of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Especially the sections about revolution and moral grandstanding.
When Tereza is swept up in the Prague Spring, and Franz marches for Cambodia — both are seeking “justice” and “truth.” But, as Kundera shows, their activism isn’t purely ideological. It’s egoic — an act of self-salvation. They’re not fighting for ideals; they’re fighting for meaning, to feel like their lives matter, and to also feel like they are part of a whole/movement.
Kundera exposes how easily even righteous acts can become self-delusion — the thrill of “being a revolutionary” can overshadow the revolution itself. Their “heavy conviction” turns into the lightest kind of self-gratification.
And that made me think of French 75 — and of Teyana Taylor’s character in particular.
Even her rebellion, while dazzling and magnetic, feels performative. It made me question myself too — my own feminism, my progressive ideals. Are they sincere, or are they sometimes performative too? Do I want justice, or do I just want to be part of any "rage" party.