Oiling Point

Daniel Day-Lewis is like the Stanley Kubrick of actors. When the late director was still making films, he'd disappear for years at a time - usually holed up in England - before churning out the next in his line of masterworks ("Eyes Wide Shut" excepted, of course). I don't know where Daniel Day-Lewis goes during his time off, but when he does accept a role, you can typically rely on its quality. Such is the case with "There Will Be Blood". Paul Thomas Anderson's overlong adaptation of Upton Sinclair's "Oil!" is nearly worth seeing solely for Mr. Day-Lewis' unforgettable turn as Daniel Plainview, a merciless, self-made oil barren in the early 1900s.

Daniel Plainview is not a good man. We get the sense pretty early on that he'd sell his mother for a buck. During a beautiful, wordless opening sequence, we see Daniel desperately digging through the dust of the American west. Through some hard (and filthy) work and some good luck, Daniel unearths a well of black gold. Before long, he's parleyed that good fortune into a literal fortune, buying up property in the search for his next big score (while Daniel appears to be obsessed with oil, it's money he wants). He gets a tip from a strange young man (Paul Dano, almost unrecognizable from "Little Miss Sunshine") about a huge oil field under a town called Little Boston. This information will cost him - and drive the rest of the film. When Daniel gets to Little Boston, he immediately locks horns with Eli Sunday (also Mr. Dano), a bible-thumping preacher who may or may not be the same man who tipped him off.

A majority of the film deals with the increasing conflict between Daniel and Eli. But Mr. Anderson's script is loaded with subplots (the most intriguing being Daniel's deteriorating relationship with his son), tangents and landscape gazing. The hypnotic score by Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood and the beautiful cinematography by Robert Elswit establish a tangible sense of place and time, but the whole affair has the self-indulgent, meandering quality of a young filmmaker out on his own.

Aside from Stanley Kubrick, "Blood" brings to mind the work of two other masters. The lingering vistas have a Terrence Malick quality to them. And, like Tarantino, Mr. Anderson is in desperate need of an editor. The film, at 158 minutes, is simply too long. Thankfully, Mr. Day-Lewis is fascinating to watch for any amount of time. Speaking with a cadence reminiscent of John Huston, the actor makes his ruthless misogynist impossible to ignore. He's like the Tony Soprano of the oil game. Despite the film's flaws, it's a joy just to watch him (and the character) work.