With sleek packaging that would make the late Apple CEO proud, Steve Jobs is a biopic told in three extended scenes, over the course of three separate product launches. Alternately taking place in 1983, 1988 and 1998, the newest film from director Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire) begins in chaos with arguments bleeding into one another. An audience of eager techies waits outside the 1983 Apple Keynote while Jobs (Michael Fassbender) stands center stage demanding that the Mac on display say, “Hello.” He orders Mac developer Andy Hertzfeld (Michael Stuhlbarg) to fix this problem while Joanna Hoffman (Kate Winslet) pulls him backstage to handle other issues; he meets with Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak (Seth Rogen) as his estranged wife (Katherine Waterston) and daughter (played by Makenzie Moss, Ripley Sobo, and Perla Haney-Jardine during different time periods) wait for him in a dressing room; he balances all these tasks, never doing just one thing at a time.

Credit the breakneck pace to writer Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network, Moneyball), whose wordy diatribes have been both the subject of praise (The West Wing) and scorn (Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip). Few writers are as capable of making intelligent people sound smart, and here he’s once again demonstrated that ability. In Steve Jobs, Sorkin’s script sends the actors careening into one another. Their piercing verbal takedowns and cleverly dismissive retorts provide a staccato rhythm that remains humorous and enthralling for the duration of the movie. Steve Jobs cares about ego, and characters who demand or want credit for their contributions. “I’m tired of being Ringo when I know I was John,” Woz yells at his friend and collaborator. The script spends as much time building its characters up as it does tearing them down.

Imposing this 3-part structure requires Sorkin to reach for several storylines simultaneously. It’s a structural conceit that asks the audience to overlook that sense of “the gang’s all back together” each time its central characters are reintroduced for later scenes. Steve Jobs is more of an impressionistic portrayal of the tech innovator than all-encompassing biopic, but this assembly is far more entertaining than what the conventional treatment allows (looking at you, Jobs).

New chapters begin with an exposition dump through montage and dialog. The script maintains a high energy, which allows the actors’ emotive line delivery to cover up the expositional nature of some of their interactions. It gets messy during a section in the middle of the film, when editor Elliot Graham (21, Milk) jumps from flashbacks to the height of an argument between Jobs and his former boss, John Sculley (Jeff Daniels). More often, the film is electric, smoothly transitioning between its exciting moments.

Fassbender commands attention on-screen as Jobs. His magnetism transcends Sorkin’s depiction of Steve Jobs as an unrelenting asshole (who relents a bit too much by the end). He embodies the character’s unchecked sense of superiority through his disaffected saunter and casually spoken insults, delivering a well-timed, “Fuck you,” as if it were completely innocuous. It’s one of the actor’s most fascinating roles to date, elevated by the A-class ensemble around Fassbender. In particular, Kate Winslet nails Joanna Hoffman’s subtle Polish accent while serving as a sounding board and frequent scene partner to Fassbender’s Jobs.

Director Danny Boyle blends the dynamism of the script and the actors’ performances with his mastery for technical flairs. Shooting each time period in its own format—16mm for 1983, 35mm for 1988, and digitally for 1998—Boyle implies the technological progress through these periods. The filmmaker matches Sorkin’s rapid-fire dialog by condensing as much visual information into each frame as it will allow. He laces his scenes with the shortest of cutaways to a crowd stomping their feet in anticipation of Jobs’ latest unveiling or a brief glimpse of Jobs and Woz back in the garage.

The overwhelming display of craft makes Steve Jobs among the most stimulating biographical films in recent years. Any liberties Sorkin takes in adapting the famous Walter Isaacson biography of Steve Jobs serves to accentuate the underlying conflicts in Jobs’ life. Its gripping first few moments ultimately prove to be the film’s best ones, as the momentum gradually slows by act three; however, Steve Jobs is nonetheless a highly entertaining look at an icon and the ways in which his hard-headed determination affected those in his radius. Lead by one of the year’s best performances, Steve Jobs is constantly compelling perspective on the shortcomings of a man who achieved greatness.

Recently, the staff here at Way Too Indie put together a list of independent films we thought Alfred Hitchcock might have made if The Master of Suspense had come up in the Kickstarter Era. There were some great choices, including Mulholland Dr. and Stoker, while my pick was The Usual Suspects. It’s too bad that assignment came before I had the chance to screen Queen of Earth. The psychological drama not only invokes Hitch, it screams Hitch.

Catherine (Elisabeth Moss) is a young woman on the ropes, having recently lost her father and been dumped by her boyfriend. Reeling from these impactful events, she looks to get away from it all by spending a week with Ginny (Katherine Waterston), an old and dear friend whose parents have a gorgeous and secluded lakeside vacation home. The retreat, however, proves less than helpful. Memories of happier times at the vacation home—times when Catherine’s (now-ex) boyfriend James (Kentucker Audley) was also a guest—surface to wrack Catherine’s conscience. Agitating things further are Ginny’s passive/aggressive behavior towards Catherine and the perpetual presence of Ginny’s neighbor/plaything Rich (Patrick Fugit), who takes a peculiar antagonistic approach when dealing with Catherine. Difficult memories and constant defensiveness take a grinding toll on Catherine’s already frail psyche, driving her deeper into despair and paranoia.

Queen of Earth is far more than just an exercise in observing one woman’s psyche slowly unravel, although it’s certainly that. The film opens at Catherine’s emotional Ground Zero; dismissed by a cheating boyfriend while reeling from the loss of her father. Writer/director Alex Ross Perry’s extreme close-ups on Moss are startling, revealing bloodshot eyes and a reddened nose and makeup ruined beyond repair, all from a recent (and clearly heavy) crying jag.

From here, Perry avoids the worn path of a woman making bad decisions while in an emotional fog. He also avoids presenting a woman who attempts to find herself after a lifetime of being defined by men. Instead, the filmmaker skillfully presents Catherine’s gradual decline within the framework of a larger, but quite intricate, story about friendship and the wages of the sin of pride. The relationship between Catherine and Ginny is strong and certainly has positive roots, but there is something more going on between them.

In addition to a terrific story, the film has many technical strengths, beginning with pop-up flashbacks that vanish almost as quickly as they appear. These brief scenes are critical to establishing the story’s foundation, even as it builds upon itself. It isn’t necessarily parallel storytelling, more a form of context to the present-day action. With masterful editing by Robert Greene and Peter Levinto, these flashbacks take the story between present day and about a year prior. It’s an unsettling technique, but it’s through these glimpses into the past—moments seen through both Catherine and Ginny’s eyes—that we’re allowed a comparison and contrast of how the two friends have changed in a year, and how their core attitudes have not.

Gloriously filmed in 16mm by cinematographer Sean Price Williams and set to a bare, haunting score by Keegan DeWitt, Queen of Earth channels the psychological dramas of the ’60s and ’70s, right down to spot-on title cards in soft pink cursive that mark each day that passes in the week-long story.

The presentation and aesthetics of the film fire on all cylinders, and at the heart of the film is a pair of performances simultaneously different yet complementary. Both are so very good.

As Catherine, Moss is turned loose, her confidence as an actress affording her the luxury of fearlessness. She manages the varying aspects of Catherine expertly, playing a woman freshly scorned and wearing every emotion on her tear-drenched sleeve; playing coy but paranoid conducting mysterious phone calls at random times during the day; and at other times a socially awkward introvert disarmed by an unexpected party. Moss delivers in amazing ways. Conversely, Waterston, as Ginny, is incredibly restrained. Her calm hostess to Moss’s unhinged basket case is at all times cool, almost aloof, with something of a sinister passive/aggressive treatment of Catherine that is captivating.

The tale ends with a devilish ending. To say more would be criminal, but I will add that a second watch of the film—with a full understanding of the ending—is highly recommended, providing a chance to catch the little clues that may be missed during a first watch.

What makes Queen of Earth so Hitchcockian isn’t Catherine’s plummet into madness, but rather how her spiral starts and how it accelerates. Setting it within the company of friends and against a placid backdrop reminds me of something Hitch would do as well, as comfortable surroundings only make the discomfort of psychological drama that much more uncomfortable. As for the roots of Catherine’s madness, I won’t say they are MacGuffins, but the loss of her father and end of a romance are clearly little more than starting points for something much more subtle and far more interesting.

Paul Thomas Anderson makes time travel look so easy. His films jump into the era of their stories so wholly, you’d think Anderson walked into the past with his film crew and shot on location. Inherent Vice is no different, with a milieu perfected by shag carpet walls, leather couches, big cars, smoke screens, and plenty of ’70s Los Angeles pulp. So if you’re looking for a gumshoe noir, the credentials are there in abundance, right down to a deadpan narrator. But if you’re looking for a satisfying mystery, Inherent Vice is two and a half hours of brain-twisting that incites feelings, though satisfaction may not be among them. The plot of the film is secondary, nay tertiary, to the atmosphere and characters leading it. So don’t feel bad reacting with utter perplexity to the film’s storyline. And in fact if that’s what your after, maybe read Thomas Pynchon’s book first, because at least there you can earmark pages and underline names.

Watching the film is a bit like trying to grab a goldfish in water. The film begins when stoner private investigator Larry ‘Doc’ Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) receives an unexpected visit from his ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston). She spills on him the story of her new man Mickey Wolfmann, a real estate mogul whose wife and her lover have a plan to send him away to the looney bin and take his money. The next day Tariq Khalil (Michael Kenneth Williams) visits Doc at his “office”—a room at a gynecology office Doc uses—and hires Doc to find an old jail acquaintance of his who owes him money. That acquaintance just happens to work for Wolfmann. Doc takes a trip out to see the latest land development of Wolfmann’s and finds a sex shop on the premises. He’s knocked unconscious and wakes up next to the dead body of Khalil’s jail buddy, surrounded by police.

Thus enters Detective Christian “Bigfoot” Bjornsen (Josh Brolin) a partner-less, Hollywood fame-seeking LAPD officer both determined to screw Doc and use him to help in his own investigation. The exchanges among Doc and Bigfoot are some of the best in the film. After Doc’s Gilligan’s Island-style maritime lawyer, Sauncho Smilax (Benicio Del Toro) helps him out of the police station, he is visited by yet another potential client. A young widow and ex-drug user, Hope Harlingen (Jena Malone) asks Doc to track down her husband, Coy, believing him to be alive. Doc finds Coy (Owen Wilson) easy enough—perhaps a little too easy—when Jade, a girl from the sex shop leads Doc to him while simultaneously warning him to “beware the Golden Fang.” When Shasta goes missing herself, more mystery unravels.

Like fellow LA-based noir Chinatown, the heart of corruption runs deep, and neither the police or FBI can be trusted. Doc is led all over town, and up to a backwards detox house in Ojai. Run-ins with an Aryan biker gang and an underground drug cartel invariably lead to higher stakes. But don’t expect to feel too much tension.

The mystery gets more knotted as this film goes on, broken up with moments of drug-addled weirdness and flashbacks of Doc’s memories of being with Shasta. But like I said the point isn’t exactly to follow along. There’s a lot of dialogue, most of it directly related to the plot, so missing any of it can seem frustrating, but this seems to be Anderson’s intention. In this drug-fueled reverie we’re at the liberty of a distractible hippie. The side-show of interesting things happening around Doc, not to mention the rambling nature of most of the loopy and stoned characters, make it easy to miss key revelations Doc encounters as he sleuths. It’s probably the closest thing to being high any clean person could experience.

The momentum sputters somewhat when the film’s MacGuffin is revealed and suddenly Doc’s motivations seem iffy. And there’s still quite a bit of film left after that point. Things get a little too languid before we’re thrown back into the tornado, almost too confused to feel invested. At that point Inherent Vice becomes more about its moments than its whole, but there are some great ones.

An attempt to track down the people behind the Golden Fang corporation leads to an amusing, jittery, dope-fueled escapade with a coked-out dentist, Dr. Blatnoyd (Martin Short at his weirdest best), and an addict runaway named Japonica (Sasha Pieterse). The huge cast is rounded out by Reese Witherspoon as Doc’s Deputy DA girlfriend, Penny, who simultaneously helps and hinders him in his sleuthing.

Despite the obvious adaptation flaws that make for a more unrealistic mystery—the ratio of discoveries Doc makes versus those that seem to just find him is rather disappointing—Anderson has crafted a two and a half hour dream sequence that is trippy but also diverting. And believe me it’s even better the second time around, not to mention necessary if you want to feel that you’re truly grasping the plot.

Phoenix proves over and over that in the hands of Paul Thomas Anderson he’s quite malleable, and with his mutton chops and a simultaneously stoned but pleasant expression, he’s a surprisingly likable anti-hero. Brolin and his flat-top haircut embodies menacing and ridiculous with an interesting charisma. But as Doc’s dream-girl, Katherine Waterston is the obvious breakout from the film. She really does shine, though it’s interesting to note that in many ways Inherent Vice is more of a bromance than a romance as Doc and Bigfoot, and to some degree Doc and Coy, have the more curious dynamics.

Anderson is nothing if not a man attuned to detail and the film’s visuals reflect his carefulness. It’s at all times psychedelic and beautiful. Adding ballast to each crafted frame is a perfectly curated soundtrack. Anderson may have erred on the side of density for what will most likely be considered a stoner film, and it’s not likely to earn respect as his best film by any means, but there’s always pleasure in watching an auteur work. If you give yourself up to the madcap kookiness of it all, Inherent Vice will lead you down the rabbit hole on an enjoyable escape and leave you with a contact high that isn’t at all unpleasant.

Following this morning’s debut of Inherent Vice, writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson and a slew of the film’s cast took the stage at the Walter Reade Theater for a Q&A with assorted press & industry members. Along with Anderson, actors Joaquin Phoenix, Katherine Waterston, Benicio del Toro, Maya Rudolph, Joanna Newsom, Michael K. Williams, Hong Chau, Jena Malone, Owen Wilson, Sasha Pieterse, and Martin Short were all in attendance for the film’s first public screening and subsequent press conference. Tonight, the New York Film Festival and the Film Society of Lincoln Center has uploaded the full talk to their YouTube page for a those eager to hear more about the mysterious new project.

“I saw The Big Sleep and it made me realize I couldn’t follow any of it, and it didn’t matter, ’cause I just wanted to see what was gonna’ happen next anyway,” said Anderson of his influences for Inherent Vice, along with answers to why he shot the film flat vs. scope and how his actors prepared to evoke the 1970s. Check out the full Inherent Vice press conference from NYFF52 below:

Inherent Vice Press Conference

From behind a haze of pot smoke and hippie dreams, P.I. Larry “Doc” Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) navigates 1970s Los Angeles as cultures clash amidst the paranoid aftermath of the Manson Family Murders. At the onset of Inherent Vice, Doc is awoken by ex-girlfriend Shasta (Katherine Waterston) who’s found herself part of an entangled web involving a real estate tycoon, a biker gang of “Aryan Brotherhood alumni,” and an Indo-Chinese drug cartel. The real estate developer has gone missing, and soon after, Shasta’s gone too. So, Doc begins a hunt for the answers, if only he can figure out the right questions to ask.

If you’ve heard of or are anticipating Inherent Vice and are not already a Thomas Pynchon reader, chances are it’s because the movie is Paul Thomas Anderson‘s latest. Any film listed in the same filmography as Magnolia and There Will Be Blood has a high standard to live up to; however, Vice doesn’t share too much in common with PTA’s most notable works, aside from its California setting. Despite Inherent Vice‘s deep roster of big name stars, it’s not a sprawling ensemble piece like Boogie Nights although Martin Short and Benicio Del Toro a couple of scenes in which they get to briefly steal the show. It’s certainly more of a comedy than his last two films, but the bizarre laughs are rooted in absurdity in a way unlike his early works. Likewise, Inherent Vice isn’t an intricate character study in the fashion of Anderson’s most recent film (also with Phoenix) The Master, it’s more of an examination of a time and characters that belong to it.

For all its strengths, it’s a challenge to grasp everything Anderson throws at the audience in his movie. Inherent Vice‘s convoluted non-story sees characters enter and exit the picture like a revolving door around Doc. Though clever in his own right, Phoenix’s detective is not the type to piece together a complex case; rather, the movie is far more concerned with the heir of mystery than solving the puzzle in a satisfying way. Its subtle touches will likely have to be sussed out during repeat viewings. But as baffling as the film can be on the initial watch, with PTA’s confident direction Inherent Vice remains captivating throughout.